Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As a Desmond, Damian had been forced to learn many things in his six years of life. He had begun piano classes, training for proper etiquette, boring dance classes, eavesdropping on political conversations for research, and he studied his Eden Academy texts till his eyes burned each night.

But no lesson could have prepared him for the menace that was Anya Forger.

The stubby-legged nuisance herself was before him now with both palms slammed down on his table. She had that familiar smile stretched across her face that he’d come to associate with a headache.

“Anya has an idea.”

Damian’s chest tightened in that weird way it did whenever she was too close to him. He looked it up once and the internet told him he was having heart attacks, which felt wrong but he tried keeping her at a distance regardless. Somehow she always managed to find a way beside him anyway like some parasite he couldn't get rid of.

“Leave me alone, shrimp.”

“Syon-boy will be Anya’s boyfriend.”

Damian felt his face begin to burn. “Did you hit your head or something?”

“Anya’s head is fine,” she placed a hand on her forehead in confusion and he rolled his eyes. Where were his friends when he needed them?

“Desmond, are you bothering Anya?”

He said friends not the devil.

“The shrimp is at my desk! She’s bothering me.”

“Becky, Syon-boy doesn’t want to be Anya's boyfriend,” Anya whined as Blackbell wrapped her arms around the small girl.

“You’re too good for him.”

“No, she is not,” Damian pounded his fist on the table. How dare they insinuate this low-life commoner was anywhere near his high level of standards?

“He just got scared because you were too bold. You have to be careful with the dumb ones.”

“I'm not scared or dumb. I just don't want to go out with you.”

“Go out where?" Anya blinked her viridian eyes confusedly and Damian was going to pull his hair out.

"He means be boyfriend and girlfriend," Blackbell clarified which made Anya pout.

“Can you losers leave me alone now?”

Blackbell didn’t spare him a glance when placing a supportive hand on Anya’s shoulder, “it’s best to trick morons like him into confessing first. Although I suggest finding a new target while we plot.”

“No, Syon-boy is Anya’s only target,” Anya looked off with a glint in her eyes.

“That would be so romantic if it was anyone but Desmond.”

He’d consider agreeing if Anya's face didn’t look so ominous during whatever daydream she’d started. It would’ve creeped him out knowing she was thinking of him like that if his cheeks weren’t burning in obvious contradiction.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not right here!” His shout gathered the attention of the classmates who had filtered into the room. “I’m never going to be your boyfriend.”

“Are all Desmond's taught to yell at young women who confess their love?” That Blackbell demon gave a small smirk. “How improper.”

“I don’t care if this shrimp loves-if she-if…” Get it together Damian! It’s just the stubby-legged shrimp, so who cares if she loves you. There would be no point in the long-run since she was just a commoner father would-

“Anya did not say that.”

Damian and Blackbell turned simultaneously, “What?”

“Anya did not say she loved Syon-boy.”

“But you asked him to be your boyfriend?”

“Yeah, explain yourself, Forger!” Damian added for no reason other than clarification obviously.

“Becky told Anya that boyfriend and girlfriend meant two people spent all their time together, so if Syon-boy was Anya’s boyfriend they would be together a lot and become friends and Syon-boy would invite her to his house.” Anya nodded proudly, as if she had not just given the dumbest explanation Damian’d ever heard.

“It was to come to my house?”

“And be friends.”

“Anya, did you listen to any other part of that explanation?” Becky questioned.

“There was more?”

Damian let his head fall forward on his open textbook. This was too much to deal with so early in the morning-he’d forgotten there was still an entire school day ahead of him.

“Do you have feelings for Damian?”

He lifted his head just enough to check Anya’s reaction, which appeared unphased given her immediate response with a bright smile, “Anya has all sorts of feelings about Syon-boy!"

“But when you date someone it’s because they make you really happy.” Blackbell explained, which had Anya’s face lighting up in understanding.

“Syon-boy is a big jerk.” Anya stated matter-of-factly and Damian was about to defend himself before she continued. “But when he is nice to Anya it makes her happy.”

He blinked. What a stupid answer.

He hated that it made him feel a bit giddy.

“You’re supposed to like your boyfriend or girlfriend too.”

“Like?”

“Really-really-really like,” Blackbell clarified.

Anya was quiet as she thought it over, “like peanuts or Spy Wars?”

“More than peanuts and Spy Wars.”

Anya’s jaw went slack and she turned to Damian with a saddened expression. “Anya is sorry Syon-boy, but she cannot be your girlfriend.”

“What are you talking about?” Was she trying to reject him? He already handled that part like ten minutes ago.

“Although Syon-boy sometimes makes Anya happy, she will never like you more than peanuts or Spy Wars or Bond or Mr. Penguin or Chimera or papa or mama or-”

“Well nothing about you makes me happy,” he hadn’t planned out his outburst. He just knew anything was better than letting Anya continue listing every household object she liked more than him. “and I will never like you and we will never be friends, so leave me alone.”

Anya regarded him carefully, her eyes suddenly holding that weird gloss he’d noticed sometimes when she’d focused on him during class, “Syon-boy’s a liar.”

What?

“I told you boy’s are dumb.” Blackbell snorted.

He would’ve continued the argument, but Blackbell had already guided Anya away from him with an arm around her shoulder. He’d been asking for them to leave anyway so that was for the best, calling back now would look like he cared.

But what had that shrimp meant by him being a liar? He’d stated some obvious facts: she made him miserable, he hated her, and obviously they weren’t friends. Anyone who thought otherwise was a bigger moron than Forger. He doesn’t even know where she could get the idea that he was a liar.

She had said that she’s happy when he’s nice to her, which was stupid because Damian was never nice to Anya Forger. He guessed there was that time when he protected her during dodgeball. Or when he told that girl to buzz off in class because she called Anya a cheater. Or when he let her win in cards because she was crying. Or that time in the cave when she was scared so he held her hand…

So maybe there were a few times when he had been nice to her, but that was because he had the Desmond name to uphold. He would have done that for any of his classmates.

Probably.

Regardless it was still inconclusive if she gave him heart problems, so having a friendship with Anya would be a health hazard. No reason to dwell on it.

“Hey Bossman, sorry we’re late.” Ewen and Emile casually walked up the staircase that led to their desk row in the back. Damian shot them a quick glare, keeping in mind to lecture them about punctuality so the previous situation would never happen to him again.

“Did we miss anything important?”

Damian stared at the back of Anya’s head in annoyance, noticing her muscles stiffen under his intense gaze. Important?

“Not at all.”

Chapter Text

Valentine’s day, in Damian’s humblest opinion, was the most pointless day of the year.

He’d been raised to view the ‘holiday’ in a capitalistic sense, so when he saw people falling for the financial scam he almost felt sorry for them. The over-priced flowers, unnecessarily thought-out gifts, and personalized lovey cards? A disgusting waste of people’s time.

But there was the benefit of his classmates getting jealous over the sheer amount of that wasted time people would spend on him. An upside to everything he supposed.

“Can’t believe you already got two Valentine’s, Boss.” His friend Ewen examined the two store bought cards carefully, as if they were some wondrous creations and not flimsy pieces of thin cardboard.

“They’re just dumb cards.” He feigned indifference, but internally his ego was massive.

“I hope we get something this year.” Emile cracked a smile at he and Ewen, the latter nodding excitedly. Damian didn’t want to say the odds were against them so he kept his gaze forward.

With his friends trailing behind him Damian entered their second year classroom, confused when they were greeted with a commotion. Usually his classmate’s noise level didn’t peak until after lunch when everyone was fed and fully awake. There’s no reason everyone should be so rambunctious at this hour.

It didn’t take long to discover the source of the excitement: Anya Forger.

The petite girl stood atop her assigned seat in the front row with their entire second year class crowded around her. Blackbell stood beside her, handing her palm-sized papers from a drawstring bag. With each paper Anya would call a name, that person pushing their was forward to grab whatever it was she held.

His heart twisted against his will when she spotted him in the doorway, waving at him with both hands.

“What is stubby-legs up to now?”

Damian shrugged, mindlessly walking toward the edge of the group. He managed to get a closer look at what people had been gifted. They were poorly cut hearts-most turning into triangles at best-with pieces of candy taped to their front. He noted a few students struggling to read illegible notes scribbled inside.

“Ewen!” Anya called out.

His friend looked at Damian hesitantly before going up to receive his Valentine. Damian shoved away the frustration that arose when Anya patted Ewen’s head before grabbing a new card.

Damian observed his friend look over the card with a small smile, squinting while trying to read Anya’s message like everyone else. He noticed that Ewen’s card had a few Spy Wars stickers on the inside and he fought the urge to smile. She was ridiculous.

A few minutes passed and with every wave of a card and name out of Anya's mouth, nearly every student had been called. Damian had begun tapping his foot with impatience five minutes prior, but when she hopped off her desk he froze.

Huh?

He marched up a little irritated from the wait and pushed his hand forward expectantly, eyebrow raised.

Anya looked at his outstretched hand for a long minute before giving him a high-five. Damian was stunned into silence at the ridiculous action. She had to be joking.

“Sorry Desmond looks like we’re out.” Blackbell said amused and clearly not apologetic at all. She gave Anya’s bag exaggerated shakes to emphasize its lack of contents. “That was her last one.”

Damian’s disbelief must have shown because Anya gave him a blinding smile, “Syon-boy doesn’t have one.”

A ripple of discomfort passed through the room. He noticed a few people sneak whispers to their neighbors, but Damian acted unfazed. “What do you mean?”

“Anya did not make one of these Valentines for Syon-boy.”

He almost laughed at that. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t you-”

“You have an entire pile on your desk, Desmond. I think you’ll survive.” Blackbell shooed him away while pulling Anya close to her side.

Anya opened her mouth as if for an explanation, but closed it without a word. Damian locked eyes with her for a long moment, hoping to find hints of a joke. He found nothing.

“I don’t want these stupid Valentines anyway.”

He felt people’s eyes on his back once he started marching up the short carpeted staircase to his assigned seat in the back with Ewen and Emile. He told himself he didn’t care about her dumb card, but the pit in his stomach screamed otherwise.

When he dropped his bag beside his seat both his friends jumped, tucking their cards out of sight beneath their notebooks. Damian rolled his eyes.

“I don’t care about Forger’s cards.”

They hesitated before sliding them back out which was more annoying than hiding them in the first place.

“They aren’t even that cool,” Emile interjected while Damian stared down at the small pile Blackbell had referred to. Damian began sorting through the cards he did receive, internally shaking himself whenever he noticed they weren’t poorly cut hearts with stupid Spy Wars stickers.

This was supposed to get him through the day, huh?

“The chocolate was kind of gross, too.” Ewen added.

“Yeah, the shrimp isn’t a good cook.”

Damian’s upper body slouched onto the table, forehead meeting the desk with a soft thump. He hadn’t even noticed she made the chocolates herself.

“You can have these,” he pushed the small pile of treats and unread notes toward his two companions.

The boys gave him the same baffled expression, as if he’d never committed a single genuine act in his entire life… ridiculous.

“Are you sure, Boss?”

“Yeah, I’m not hungry.”

His friends excitedly dug into whatever nonsense people had left for him before he’d arrived in the classroom and he heard them giggle while reading the contents of a few cards. Usually he was down to laugh at the stupid poems or fake confessions but he couldn’t care less that morning.

Damian felt the familiar crawling sensation of being watched and lifted his head enough to spot Anya staring him down. She was so annoying, he thought while they maintained awkward eye-contact. One minute she’s making his heart explode and then next he wants to punch something.

Anya’s eyes randomly widened in panic and she whipped around in her seat. Damian grumbled and settled for glowering at no one. He just needed to get through the day.

***

Damian took back any positive thought he’d ever had about Valentine’s day. There were absolutely no upsides.

Throughout the day he’d had to deal with several people giving him various candies and letters. Last year he would’ve thrived off getting to use each one as a bragging opportunity, but this year he just wanted them to be done. He hated that each time someone handed him a Valentine a flash of pink would enter his mind.

But when he’d reached the end of the day Damian was completely over the whole Anya situation. He was. Honestly he wasn’t even sure what he got so upset over. A stupid triangle with inedible candy? She just saved him the trouble of having to search out a trash bin-he should be thanking her really.

Except he’d never be caught dead thanking Anya Forger for any-

Damian stumbled, nearly losing his footing after being smacked in the chest by a solid object. With a short delay he registered it to be a person.

“Syon-boy!” Anya had stepped into his path from seemingly nowhere. He felt every insult he’d prepared throughout the day dry-up the moment he met her bright viridian stare.

He honed in on the earlier frustration and quickly side-stepped her. Damian did not get far before Anya had gripped the sleeve of his uniform. He had half a mind to scold her for wrinkling his jacket when she shoved an envelope into his hand.

He blinked at her, checking over the light-pink envelope with his name scribbled across the front and decorated in lame Spy Wars stickers. His heart thumped with something akin to hope.

“What’s this?”

“Syon-boy’s Valentine!” Anya clasped her hands behind her back, patiently waiting for him to open the envelope.

“I thought you didn’t make me one.”

“Anya didn’t make Syon-boy one of those Valentine’s,” Anya clarified. “She did not say she didn’t make one at all.”

Damian blinked. “You couldn’t have said that earlier?”

Anya shrugged, “is Syon-boy going to open his gift?”

Damian hesitated, realizing as he tore at the seal this would be the first Valentine he’d actually accepted. As he unfolded the paper and took in its contents his expression immediately dropped.

“What is this?”

“Anya drew it!”

That part was obvious. The obnoxious drawing contained two stick figures ‘syon-boy’ and ‘Anya’ holding hands atop a sparkly blue hill. There was a bright purple tree on the side that looked more like a bunch of scribbles and above it all was a bright pink sun wearing sunglasses. The true centerpiece though was a large dog ‘Bond’ dressed as a spy playing soccer on the side. The only reason he knew any of this was due to her labeling every object on the page.

“I can tell.” The incorrect use of colors was a little frustrating. And why was he frowning?

“Mama said that special people should have special gifts and Syon-boy is very special to Anya.” He felt his face flush at her confession. Luckily she did her weird space out thing while clenching a fist so he was able to gain composure.

“Anyway Anya wanted him to have a really cool Valentine.”

Cool is… a word.

The colors were hard to look at, half the labels were spelled incorrectly, he’s pretty sure there’s a chocolate smear in the top left corner, and the absolute worst part was she drew herself taller than him. It was one of the worst drawings he’d ever seen.

He loved it.

“It’s lame,” he stated, holding the page a little tighter. “You shouldn’t have wasted your time. Buy chocolate like a normal person.”

Her smile only widened at his insult. “Okay.”

“What are you smiling for? I just told you your drawing sucked.”

Anya shrugged, “Syon-boy was smiling really wide when he opened it, so Anya knows he’s lying.”

Damian’s hand shot to cover his mouth. Had he really been smiling? “No I wasn’t.”

She had the audacity to giggle. “You’re a bad liar Syon-boy.”

He felt his face flush at her accusation because that really wasn’t true. He was just getting the unfortunate sense that she was somehow really good at reading him. Which he had a sneaking suspicion would not end well for him.

When a humiliating thought that he wished he’d had brought a Valentine for her crossed his mind he knew he needed to leave.

“Anya’s mama and papa are coming soon, so she will go.” Anya started conveniently backing away. “But she can be available anytime to go to your house if-”

“Fat chance, Forger.”

Anya’s cheeks puffed up adorably in a pout before she pivoted around. She sent him a final wave over her shoulder before jogging to where her family would pick her up.

Damian relaxed once she was a good distance away. He held the picture up at eye-level and frowned because it truly was awful. The only reason he hung it up in his dorm room that night-hidden beneath a much cooler poster-was because he couldn’t be bothered to find a trash bin.

It had nothing to do with it being a ‘special Valentine’ or Anya considering him a ‘special person’ because Valentine’s day was a pointless scam and he could care less about Anya Forger.

That night he stared at the drawing until he fell asleep, repeating those statements to himself until a part of him was willing to believe either.

Chapter Text

Damian Desmond had many talents. He’d only ever received perfect scores on math exams, could recite the alphabet backward, was the youngest kid to earn a spot on Eden Academy’s junior soccer team, and memorized every word from the 1980s Spy Wars original soundtrack-that the last one would go to the grave.

Anyway, Damian had an arsenal of impressive skills, but ignoring Anya Forger was not one of them.

In his defense, evil forces had been working for four years to make him miserable. Give him any other explanation for how Anya managed to weasel her way into his every class regardless of being bottom rank. Or her locker always being next to his, breaking the sacred alphabetical system.

Oh. Or try explaining right freaking now.

“Damian Desmond and Anya Forger,” their professor called with slight hesitation, almost sounding curious about her own pairing.

An unwelcome flush rose to his cheeks. Somebody had a vendetta against him-he was sure of it. He heard his two friends snicker at his misfortune, so he shot them a glare that didn’t do nearly enough damage paired with his reddened face.

Damian elbowed his way toward the professor who had already handed Anya their aquarium scavenger hunt. He attempted to read the checklist over her shoulder, but she shoved it against his chest when he got close.

Rude.

“Anya was supposed to be partnered with Becky,” Anya announced, interrupting the following group’s turn to receive instructions.

“Ms. Forger these partners are final.” Their professor scowled. “Unless you’re saying I made a mistake somehow?”

Anya puffed up her cheeks and normally Damian would’ve loved to see what came next, but they had an assignment to get done. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her toward the large concrete building with a giant seahorse decorating the front.

“She would never. Her apologies,” he gave a slight bow of his head and got Anya up a few stairs before she turned on him with a sharp glare.

“Anya didn’t apologize.”

“I don’t have time for you to get a Tonitrus Bolt, shortie..”

“Don’t forget a camera you two.” Their professor scolded from the bottom of the staircase.

“Anya brought one,” Anya sighed, defeated as she waved a pink sticker-covered monstrosity that had hung around her neck by a matching pink lanyard. He cringed at the thought of carrying that around himself.

Looks like Anya would be taking the photos.

The shrill complaints of Blackbell reached his ears before they passed through the aquarium’s glass doors. He acknowledged her whining from being paired with Ewen and how her day was going to be miserable. Damian smiled.

He felt terrible for his friend, but knew it was a necessary sacrifice for Blackbell’s suffer-

A sharp pain shot through his bicep. He locked eyes with an annoyed Anya holding up a clenched fist, eyebrows raised.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Syon-boy was being a jerk.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” he whined, rubbing the sore spot. He trailed after Anya as she marched toward the front desk to receive their free wristbands.

Damian actually felt he’d toned down the ‘jerkiness’ over the past year. Anya had been the one getting weirdly back and forth with the random mood shifts.

Anya returned with a neon-green band wrapped around her wrist. He held out a hand for his own, but rather than handing it over she gently held his arm steady to place it on for him. The unwelcome blush returned.

He didn’t dislike their new dynamic. He just wanted to understand her for once.

And none of this implied they were close in the slightest. Forced acquaintances at best.

Once Anya deemed him ready for exploration Damian swiped them a map from a nearby tourist stand. There were too many hallways to choose from and their list was long, they needed to be strategic.

Some classmates had wandered off toward the main attraction: a tunnel-like tank that had a large shark banner hanging above it. A few clung to each other while pointing toward the glass ceiling, likely where the shark resided.

The yellow fish imprinted into the dark carpet beneath his feet were directing him toward the blackened hallway, lit only by neon objects scattered across glass tanks. That felt most enticing until Blackbell stomped toward it with a whining Ewen straggling after.

He grimaced, hoping Anya hadn’t spotted them.

His gaze flickered to her, intensely analyzing their scavenger hunt assignment. He casually peeked over her shoulder to scan through it, quickly recognizing each scientific name from hours of studying. Scyphozoa: jellyfish; Tetraodontidae: pufferfish; selachimorpha: shark: Octopoda: octopus, hopefully, Anya at least knew that one.

Anya’s grip tightened, crumpling the edges of their paper. She’s probably frustrated from not knowing anything on the list.

While he was distracted mentally pitying her Anya plucked the aquarium map from his hand.

“What are you-”

“We don’t need this.”

He watched baffled as Anya proudly took their map to the nearest trash and dropped it in like some random litter she found on the floor.

“How are we going to find any exhibit?” He gestured wildly at the maze of a building. Anya simply pivoted on her heel and mosied toward the one bannerless hall that Damian hadn’t noticed.

“Anya has been here many times with mama and papa. She knows it like her whole hand.”

“Back of your hand.” Damian clarified after he’d caught up to her. “It’s ‘I know it like the back of my hand’.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Anya stared at the back of her hand. “It’s more impressive to know both sides and Anya can see the back just fine.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Fine. You know the aquarium like your entire hand, but you don’t know what we’re looking for.”

“Syon-boy can do that.”

He blinked. “Okay, but what if-”

Anya’s eyes flickered to him dishearteningly. “Just trust Anya,”

Damian’s heart flipped dramatically in his chest and he snapped his focus to his shoes, “whatever. Just don’t get us lost.”

He felt her wide smile directed at him and mentally smacked himself for enjoying it.

When they finally reached the end of her boring hallway choice Damian was surprised to find them directly across from the jellyfish tank.

“Not bad, Forger.”

Damian was pleased with the shortcut but grimaced at the mass of people cluttering the dim-lit narrow hall. He had no idea how they were supposed to get a quality picture with those unsupervised toddlers smearing their faces against the glass.

He grumbled his annoyance, deciding he would do what must be done for academic excellence. No more than a foot left the tunnel before Anya’s small fist gripped the back of his uniform, pulling him back into the sanctuary of their empty hall.

Any frustration dissolved when he glanced over his shoulder. Anya’s wide eyes were locked on the group. Her breaths were shallow and only then did he realize the slight shake in the hold on his back.

“What’s wrong?” His voice came out gentler than he’d ever heard. He’d be more embarrassed if he weren’t a little terrified.

“There are so many people,” Anya whispered.

“I thought you came here all the time?”

“Papa and mama are with Anya…” she stared at the floor. “It’s hard to explain.”

Damian frowned, “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

She locked eyes with him for too long, as if searching for something he didn’t understand. She must not have found it because she looked away with a frown. Disappointment filled him for some reason too.

“Too many people give Anya a headache, but focusing on one person makes her feel better.”

“I think that's called claustrophobia.” Damian smiled slightly in recognition. “You get nervous in enclosed spaces, right?”

“Sure.”

“Do we need to go back? I can finish the project myself if you need to-”

“No.” Anya shook her head. “Anya’ll be fine.”

Damian watched frustrated as she wobbled toward the jellyfish tank. Anya was too stubborn for her own good. It became too much when Anya got bumped by someone’s child sprinting through the halls, nearly dropping her camera if not for the lanyard.

Damian hadn’t thought before reaching for her hand. The most brainless act he’d committed in his ten years of existence. But Anya’s relieved look when she weaved their fingers together would have knocked the wind out of him if he’d had any brain cells active at that moment, so it was probably for the best.

“Are you going to take the picture or what?” He murmured, suddenly very interested in the colorful array of chewed gum decorating the ceiling. The answer must have been yes since he was being yanked closer to the glass.

Damian’s protests dried up on his tongue when he realized her excitement in taking her first one-handed picture. He hated that after four years his heart still fought against his ribcage every time she smiled.

He pulled her back after she took several pictures since they only needed one of each subject. They didn’t have time for a photoshoot and as long as Anya got a decent picture who cared. He peeked at the photos she’s been admiring and his eyebrows shot up.

“What are these?” He swiped her camera, the lanyard causing her to lean against him. “These photos suck, Forger.”

“Syon-boy is overreacting.”

“You can’t even tell they’re jellyfish.”

“Syon-boy can take photos if he wants to complain.” She lifted the lanyard over her head and shoved the camera against his chest. Damian held the eyesore at arms-length.

“Syon-boy’s dominant hand is occupied.” He waved their linked hands in her face ignoring the fast rhythm of his heart.

“So dramatic.” She sighed, offering her unoccupied hand. “If he is incapable of taking photos then Anya will do it.

Incapable? Damian narrowed his eyes at her knowing smirk.

“You’re the worst.” Damian’s shoulders dropped as he placed Anya’s ugly camera around his neck.

“Too much lying is bad for Syon-boy’s health.”

He grumbled a few insults not so quietly under his breath before Anya once again yanked him toward a glass window lining the wall. Behind the glass were several sea creatures Damian did not care about and one off-yellow puffer fish.

He awkwardly maneuvered the camera so he could take a photo without completely dropping it. Damian noticed Anya in the corner of the lens-cheeks puffed and free hand pressed against the glass. She looked like one of the unsupervised toddlers they’d just dealt with. So annoying.

He took a photo.

After the jellyfish incident, their aquarium excursion ran smoothly, as it turned out Anya actually could navigate the maze of a building. He found it odd that they never ran into any classmates but was grateful considering Anya never let go of his hand.

Not that he’d done anything to make her.

“Best for last,” Anya announced, throwing open the doors to the penguin exhibit. After hours of dragging Damian through the building at full speed, he had no clue how she was still fully charged.

Did she ever get tired?

Damian was startled at how quickly Anya dropped his hand once she realized the room was empty. Some form of longing festered in the pit of his stomach which immediately dissipated when she started rubbing her palm on her uniform’s skirt.

“Syon-boy’s hands are really sweaty and gross.”

He felt warmth spreading across his face. “No, you’re gross.”

Anya had the audacity to giggle before running over to the window, pointing at the penguins inside. “Syon-boy, get a bunch of cool pictures.”

His eyes rolled at her inability to focus on a single conversation for more than thirty seconds. “We only need one.”

“Anya wants fifty.”

He looked at her through the lens, zooming really close on her face. “I’m not taking fifty pictures of a bunch of penguins.”

“But Anya likes penguins.”

“Then take them yourself,” he focused on the enclosure and got a perfect shot of one of them diving into their small pool of water. He was so talented.

“But Syon-boy is better at taking pictures,” she whined. “Anya wants him to do it.”

Damian’s heart fought to escape his chest and he bit his cheek. You’re better than this Damian.

“Please?” She pleaded softly.

He pressed the camera to his forehead, taking a deep shaky breath. “Fine, but not fifty. That’s ridiculous.”

She bounced on her heels excitedly and before Damian could mentally prepare himself she was wrapping her arms around his midsection. Damian’s mind was screaming. She was too close. He wanted to run away.

He wanted to stay like this for the rest of his life.

Wait, should he be hugging her back? He’d never done this before. Where were his arms?

Anya stepped back after either ten seconds or ten hours, raising an eyebrow at his position. Damian looked up to find his arms stiffened straight in the air. Ah, there they are.

The next time they hugged he definitely wouldn’t do that.

…next time!? Get it together, Desmond!

“There are eighteen pictures left.” He mumbled, focusing back on the penguins. If he put his attention on taking pictures he could ignore the adorable girl bouncing behind him. “Then you’d have twenty overall. That should be enough.”

“Anya is glad she and Syon-boy are friends.”

Damian flinched, the first photo turning into an Anya-level blurry mess. A mixture of disappointment at the picture and embarrassment at Anya’s claim filled his chest. “We’re not friends.”

“But Syon-boy is really nice now.”

“No, I’m not.”

Anya was silent for a moment while he worked before continuing, “does Syon-boy like being mean?”

They locked eyes and Damian felt his stomach churn. He liked when she smiled at him and he knew that didn’t happen when he mocked her failing grades.

Damian shrugged, unwilling to give the answer she probably knew.

“Then Anya will not tell anyone,” she said quietly enough he strained to hear her. “That Syon-boy was nice to her.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Anya!” A shrill sound echoed throughout the previously peaceful room. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Blackbell sprinted past him, tackling Anya in a hug that nearly knocked her off her feet. Blackbell locked eyes with him and immediately sent him a vicious glare.

Damian rolled his eyes and went back to taking the last three pictures he promised Anya.

“I’ve had the worst day,” Blackbell whined. “I was with one of Desmond’s morons and he didn’t know anything. I carried our whole team.”

“You would’ve carried Forger too.” Damian pointed out.

“That’s different.” Blackbell rubbed her cheek atop Anya’s head and mussed up her hair. “Anya is perfect.”

Damian shoved away the jealousy creeping in from Blackbell’s ability to hug Anya whenever she wanted. He finished the final penguin photo as Ewen burst through the doors.

“I thought I lost him,” Blackbell mumbled

Ewen’s eyes widened excitedly when they landed on Damian. “Boss! I thought you left already.”

“Nope, we’ve been here.”

“How long?” Blackbell raised a brow.

Damien shrugged, swinging Anya’s camera casually by the lanyard. “A few minutes.” He lied.

“Anya saved penguins for last cause they’re her favorite.”

Blackbell looked Damian up and down before smirking, “taking your time with Anya’s penguin photo?”

“Buzz off, Blackbell.”

“The denial was cute when we were six Desmond, but now it’s just sad.”

Damian raised a brow. “Denial of what?”

“Oh my god, you’re a mess.”

“Have you turned your checklist in yet?” Ewen looked between Anya and Damian concerningly. “The bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”

Damian’s eyes shot to the clock above the enclosure that read two forty-four. He hadn’t gone over the list in hours. “Did we get everything?”

Anya pulled a crumpled checklist from her pocket and Damian cringed. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Syon-boy was double-checking.”

Emphasis on was. He kept getting distracted by the overexcited shortie bouncing around like she hadn’t been to this exact aquarium a dozen times before. “Whatever, let’s just go.”

He grabbed her hand thoughtlessly and began pulling her toward the exit. They needed to turn the assignment in fast or he was going to lose it.

His dragging Anya quickly turned back into her dragging him since after the whole day he still had no idea where they were going, but thankfully they made it out with ten minutes to spare. They were out of breath when handing the crumpled checklist and decorated camera to their professor.

She raised an eyebrow at their appearance and the state of their checklist, but after checking it over she reluctantly gave them a perfect score. Anya held the red-inked one-hundred proudly above her head.

“Mama and papa are going to be so proud.”

“Whatever.” Damien rolled his eyes with a fond smile, and before he could finally walk away Anya grabbed his uniform sleeve.

“Thank you,” Anya smiled softly and his blush was back with a vengeance. “For the penguin photos and the good grade.”

Damian’s mouth opened and closed a few times before he stammered, “it’s not a big deal.”

She let him go with a sun-rivaling smile. He distantly heard Blackbell’s annoying squeals and Anya’s concerned line of questioning about her health before he reached his friends at the front of the bus line.

“What was that about?” Emile raised a brow at Damian’s flustered appearance.

“Nothing.”

“Probably got in an argument with Forger.” Ewen snorted. “Must’ve been miserable being stuck with her all day.”

Damian glanced over his shoulder at Anya laughing at Blackbell’s dramatic retelling of some likely mediocre event that day. He shrugged, “could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah,” Emile elbowed Ewen. “He could’ve been paired with Blackbell.”

Ewen groaned dramatically before telling his day's tragedies, saving Damian from needing to create intricate lies to make his day sound equally awful. In reality, he couldn’t think of a single story to tell them.

Instead, Damian spent the ride back daydreaming about the warmth previously surrounding his right hand. It hadn’t been unfamiliar, they’d held hands once as first years-a stormy night hidden in a cave. He'd wanted to keep her happy even then, telling himself it would be annoying if she started crying. This time he didn’t know why he did it.

Or why he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

All he knew was four years later her hand still fit perfectly in his.

Blackbell was right. Damian was a mess.

Chapter Text

“What are you doing?”

“Feeding fish.”

“Why?” It wasn’t what he meant to ask. Damian couldn’t care less about any animal Anya Forger took a liking to. It had just come out easier than any other thoughts plaguing his mind the past months.

“They seemed hungry.” Anya shrugged. She broke another handful of crumbs off the bread roll she must’ve stolen from the day’s lunch, sprinkling them across the pond’s water top. They both observed several koi create waves while fighting for the mediocre bits.

“How could you possibly know they were hungry?”

She gave him an incredulous look like he was the weird one. Maybe he was. “Their colors are less bright today,” she said while following the pattern of a particularly vibrant orange koi with her finger, “and their eyes looked sad.”

Damian frowned. If he hadn’t been an idiot and taken finding her alone as some sort of sign he would have avoided this completely. After almost seven years he knew better than to confront Anya when she was off in her own little world.

“When papa dropped me off today I could tell they hadn’t been fed in a long time-”

He could use soccer practice as an out if he wanted to be a coward.

“-took the bread from under their noses like a ninja. Becky was-

Or he could just say it.

“-backpack is all crumby so I’ll have to clean it but-

“Can you read minds?”

For the first time in Damian assumed her life Anya fell silent. Nothing but the sharp whistle from winds blowing through near bare branches surrounded them. A soft plop when Anya’s half torn-up biscuit fell out of her limp hand into the water.

Her mouth opened, closed. Silence.

Even after the sleepless nights that lead to the question he still felt ridiculous when the words left his mouth.

“It’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately, ya’ know?” He paused. Damian waited for her to burst out laughing, tell him he was an idiot like he’d imagined countless times.

Nothing.

“You’re always responding to people without them saying anything,” he started, “you always know answers to questions in class even when you’re half asleep, and you’re always staring at me or hitting me at really weird timing.”

He refused to add the timing being whenever he thought about her because that would be admitting he thought about her at all.

“And I don’t think you realized, but yesterday at our lockers you had a full conversation with me before realizing I wasn’t talking to you.”

“Syon-boy…”

“You always say I’m talking out loud but I know I’m not and I… I don’t know what else it could be.”

Anya’s reaction was shielded by waves of pink hair, her gaze remained locked on the soaking bread being munched by numerous fish. The air felt tense between them and Damian shifted between his feet. Maybe this had been a bad idea.

“You know what? Forget I mentioned it.” He backtracked. “I was just reading too many of Ewen’s stupid comics. I don’t know why I even-”

“Yes,” Anya whispered faintly. She finally looked up at him, hesitation overshadowed her usual confidence.

Damian’s breath hitched. He knew he needed to say something important then. Something reassuring that would comfort her obvious nerves.

His brain failed him. “Holy shit.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.” Anya shot up.

“What?”

“They’re going to find me.” Her hands gripped the sides of her head, breaths shallowing. “They’re going to take me away.”

“Who’s going to what?” Damian reached a hand forward hesitantly. “What are you talking about, Anya?”

“I have to go.” She attempted to take off but Damian caught her sleeve.

She couldn’t go yet. There were a thousand questions he wanted to ask her. Anya took one look over her shoulder and his heart shattered. Her usual carefree gaze held genuine fear, eyes glossed over with unshed tears. Damian dropped her sleeve as if it had burned him.

He remained frozen in place long after she had disappeared into the Academy’s back entrance. Unable to shake off that final look. The singular idea that he made her feel that way. He rubbed a fist above where his heart pinched.

Why did that hurt so much?

***

It had been a week since Anya’s confession in the schoolyard. And a week since she had been to school at all.

He knew he was to blame.

Damian spared brief glances to the doorway, with each person that didn’t obnoxiously bounce through the doorframe with an annoyingly large smile his heart sank further. He tried focusing his attention on preparing Chemistry notes but his eyes preferred seeking her out.

“Boss, are you feeling okay?” Ewen’s calm voice made him jump.

“I’m fine.” He hadn’t been able to sleep in days. Each time he closed his eyes he saw Anya’s terrified look burning holes into him. It made him nauseous.

“Is it Forger?”

Yes. “No.”

“She hasn’t been here all week.” Emile looked up in thought. Believe him, Damian noticed. Everything felt a little grayer without her unwarranted sunshine smile greeting him every morning.

“Yeah, did you two get in a fight?”

“We fight every day.” Damian frowned. Their daily routine revolved around one of them annoying the other to the point of a useless argument. And her insults have skyrocketed ever since she grew out of that third-person thing. He looked forward to their bickering-not that he’d ever admit it.

“Not flirt fighting,” Emile sighed, “actual fighting.”

Flirt fighting? Damian felt warmth rising at the idiotic concept. “Flirt fighting isn’t a thing morons and we didn’t…”

Damian paused. Had they fought? Damian hadn’t meant for them to. The unshed tears flashed across his mind again and his shoulders sagged.

His friend clapped his shoulder awkwardly. “You’ll get through this.”

Damian shot him a glare. “I already told you I’m fine. I don’t care about An-”

His desk shook when a palm slammed in front of him, the set of perfectly manicured nails could only be from one person. “What have you done with Anya?”

Damian groaned, plopping his forehead onto his desk. “Go away.”

“Where is she, Desmond?”

He looked up incredulously. “You think I kidnapped her or something?”

“Well she isn’t here” Blackbell gestured around their Anya-less classroom. “And she isn’t answering her home phone, so what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Oh please, you’ve been carrying a big rain cloud above you all week. Obviously, you did something to upset her.”

He stood up to meet her at eye level. “Piss off.”

“Better not plan on kissing Anya with that mouth.” She smirked.

“Can’t you be annoying somewhere else?”

“Not with Anya gone.”

“How do you know Forger didn’t make him sad?” Ewen crossed his arms defiantly, uselessly defending Damian.

“Because Anya is an angel who does no wrong.” Blackbell proceeded to pinch one of Damian’s cheeks and baby talk. “And she would never hurt her precious little Syon-boy.”

Damian smacked her hand away, cheeks blazing. “Words cannot describe how much I hate you right now.”

“All I’m hearing are compliments, Desmond.” She leaned close and jabbed his forehead. “Now, fix Anya.”

“How?” He flopped back into his seat. “It’s not like I can talk to her if she isn’t-”

“Ms. Forger, glad to see you’ll be joining us again.”

Their attention whipped to the doorway where Anya stood, staring wordlessly at their group.

“Anya!” Blackbell took steps two at a time to tackle her friend in a hug. Over Blackbell’s shoulder, Anya glanced at him. His excitement settled when he noticed the dark circles that rested beneath her heavy eyelids.

Just as quickly as their eyes met Anya was turning away. He swore he felt the crack building across his heart.

“Focus on the front everyone,” their professor called. Being the best of the students Damian continued to stare at Anya’s cascade of pink hair. He never once took his eyes off the back of her head.

He had no idea how her mind reading worked but never once did she look at him. Even though he spent the whole class embarrassingly mentally asking if she was okay, if she was mad at him, even desperately throwing in a few sorries. She never even flinched.

For the first time, he truly believed she hated him.

***

Without constant exercise keeping him warm Damian was fairly cold walking back from soccer practice. He stomped ruthlessly on every fallen leaf unlucky enough to have landed in his path, scowling at his grass-stained shoes. The practice had been as awful as the rest of his day.

No matter how hard Damian tried he just couldn’t stop thinking about Anya. Having the joyful girl overtaking his mind wasn’t a foreign issue, just never this unmanageable.

Midpractice, after getting smacked in the face with a ball due to spacing out, he’d set his resolve. He needed to speak with Anya. Figure out a way to get her alone again.

Raising his gaze he spotted a dot of pink in the distance, seated beside the same pond as last week. That was easier than he thought it would be. His feet mindlessly were already carrying him toward her.

There she sat, haloed in the peach hues of the setting sun, breaking off pieces of bread crumbs to feed to the school’s koi fish. The usual butterflies that resided only for her were tame as he took in her half-lidded stare, the small smile she always wore was gone.

“Did they look hungry again?” He asked stupidly once he reached her.

She side-eyed him before shrugging. “Something like that.”

It wasn’t an invitation, but she hadn’t left either. Damian sat beside her on the patch of yellowing grass, dropping his duffel bag nearby. Several koi swam near the surface as they waited for their next snack, bumping a few lilypads. Damian tried to study them. Maybe they did look sad.

He felt a soft nudge on his bicep. Anya pressed a bread roll against his arm which he took with a mumbled, “thanks.”

He couldn’t be sure how long they sat in their uncomfortable silence throwing crumbs in the water. He just knew he felt no peace from the calm activity while being on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time.

“You didn’t tell anyone.” Anya’s voice came out uncharacteristically timid.

“Huh?”

“You didn’t tell anyone.” She reiterated. “Why?”

He furrowed his brow. The thought of telling someone hadn’t even crossed his mind. There were hundreds of reasons he wouldn’t have: no one would’ve believed him, it felt cool being the only one who knew, she could probably blackmail him with all his secrets, she obviously hadn’t wanted him to.

The real reason was obvious, he never wanted to see her afraid again.

He settled on the brilliant answer of, “I don’t know.”

When Damian glanced over he caught a faint smile that sent a warmth blossoming in his chest. “Did you read my mind?”

“Didn’t have to,” she hugged her legs to her chest. “Syon-boy has always been a terrible liar.”

Relief at seeing her shoulders relax spread through him the same speed embarrassment did. “How does it work?”

Anya hesitated. She glanced around the schoolyard to make sure nobody was listening. “It works better the closer I am to someone. Best when I’m touching them.” Anya’s eyes darted toward his hand and his heart leaped.

“So you just always hear people thinking?”

“No, I can usually control it.”

“Usually?”

“Large crowds give me a headache.” She turned her face away from him. Damian raised a brow then felt warmth cover his face when he remembered their field trip a few years ago.

Guess she isn’t claustrophobic after all.

“That makes sense,” he coughed.

“Anyway, I try to listen to people less now.” Anya frowned. “I got too comfortable reading you. I should’ve stopped when you were noticing.”

“Comfortable?”

“You’re just so confusing up there sometimes.”

“Confusing?” Damian rubbed his head. Was that an insult?

“You’ve always been confusing.” Anya shrugged. “That’s why I like reading you the most.”

He was humiliated to find himself smirking. “Oh?”

“Don’t get any weird ideas, Syon-boy.” She narrowed her eyes at him and his stomach churned. What was that supposed to mean?

“This feels like a serious invasion of my privacy,” he leaned back on his hands, observing the way she nonchalantly avoided his eyes. “How was I supposed to stop you from learning my deep dark secrets?”

“You aren’t cool enough to have deep dark secrets.”

His jaw slackened, and like the mature almost thirteen-year-old adult, he threw his remaining bread roll at her face. “I’m cool! I have all sorts of secrets!”

“Syon-boy is a nerd who follows the rules.”

Damian’s chest puffed up. “Well, we can’t all have superpowers.”

“Nope, some people have to be the nerdy sidekick.”

“I’m not a nerd sidekick!” He pointed a finger at her. “And you’re too lame to even be a super-”

His mind went blank. Anya gripped her stomach, a full laugh escaping her with a smile that finally reached her eyes. It briefly crossed his mind that he had been the one to make her laugh. Make her happy again. That stupid rush of warmth that only appeared when she was around returned. He might even be smiling.

“Damian.”

Those previously tame butterflies were back with a vengeance. He met her serious look with shock. That was the first time she’d ever said his name. It felt weird.

She should do that more.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

The fearful look and tears crashed through him again. Brief mentionings of people taking her away still tugged at the back of his mind. “I know.”

She held her arm out, offering him her pinky. “Promise.”

He stared at it dumbly. “Anya. I’m not going to pinky swe-”

“Promise.”

Damian rolled his eyes, hooking their fingers and shaking them lightly. Satisfied, Anya started to pull back before Damian tightened the grip.

“No more reading my mind.”

She let out a horrified gasp. “Ever?”

“Not without my permission.”

She grumbled before shaking their hands in agreement. As they unhooked fingers he glanced down at his hand a little embarrassed—what a childish end to his miserable week. Suddenly Anya was shaking his shoulder violently with a gasp and he was thrown to the ground.

“What the hell?”

“Duck!”

Damian glanced around and panicked before slapping a hand over his face. A family of literal ducks was waddling their way toward the surface’s edge, several ducklings already plopping awkwardly atop the surface.

“Anya I thought we were dying or something,” he grumbled. She ignored him completely in favor of scooping up their forgotten bread rolls. Damian’s heart continued its rapid pace as he watched her attempt to lead the ducks toward them with crumb bait.

It was a humiliating epiphany, realizing he could watch her throw bread pieces forever. That laying on solid ground uncomfortably cold was well worth it to watch Anya smile even a second more. He told himself he didn’t understand the emotion swirling in his chest. But that was another lie.

Anya looked down at him and sent him that sun-rivaling smile he’d been yearning for all week and in a moment of weakness, he let himself smile back.

He was just too scared to let himself understand.

Chapter Text

“Can you feel me now?”

“No.”

“How about now?”

Damian pressed his pencil roughly against his innocent notebook-the graphite close to tearing holes in its looseleaf. The mindless act of algebra struggled to maintain his attention from Anya’s hand sliding through his previously styled hair. He didn’t appreciate how gentle her palm felt against his scalp.

“No,” he sighed. “Anya, it's not working.”

Anya ignored him as she’d been doing for the past thirty minutes. Her hand moved to his forehead. “Are you sure there isn’t a tingle or warmth? What about a little headache? Nausea?”

“It feels like nothing.” Damian swatted her hand away. “Like the other hundred times we’ve done this.”

“I don’t think you’re focusing enough.”

“I’m focusing on finishing my homework.” He gestured to the array of open textbooks laid out across their library table. “The reason we came here, remember? Not to play mind reader.”

“But that’s so boring.” Anya leaned back in her chair. “You need to think bigger, Syon-boy.”

“Graduating?”

“Saving the world.” Anya clenched her fist. That weird far-off look appeared as she dazed off into space-times like these he wished he was the one with mind-reading powers. He could only imagine the wild daydreams Anya Forger could manifest.

“You’re so weird.” Damian jabbed her cheek with his pencil’s eraser. “Save the world after you pass Algebra.”

“Superheroes don’t need to know algebra.”

“This superhero does.” Damian looked at her untouched backpack. “Have you even started our assignment?”

“Sure. Some.” The way Anya avoided his eyes told another story.

“Anya’s a liar,” he sing-songed smugly.

“That’s my line.”

Damian rolled his eyes and made a grab for her backpack. “Just get it over with. I’ll even help you with-”

“No!” Anya grabbed the bag before he could touch it. He blinked. “Sorry. You can’t touch it right now..”

Damian narrowed his eyes to her backpack. That had been abnormally weird for Anya, who functioned at a constant level of ‘weird’. Damian’s suspicion radar had peaked.

“Are you feeling alright?”

She cocked her head innocently. “Yeah. Why?”

“No reason.”

Anya sent him what was meant to be a comforting smile that unfortunately made his brain shut off. A skill he’d developed since her little superhero confession. Anytime he felt anything abnormal in regards to her he would just go mentally silent and refuse to think about anything.

Avoid and suppress.

A foolproof plan if he’d say so himself. It rarely failed him.

“Shouldn’t you be happy I can’t tell when you’re poking around my head?” Damian asked. “That could cause problems for you if people felt it.”

Anya shrugged. “It’s different when it’s you.”

Dammit. Foiled again. He’d be analyzing that one too long tonight. A formidable foe this Anya Forger.

“I don’t see how me knowing could help you.”

“You can’t be a useful sidekick if we can’t communicate with our minds,” Anya scoffed.

“I’m not a sidekick!”

“Here you guys are!” Blackbell sauntered up to their table, dropping her bag atop their table and plopping into a seat across from them. Sadly spending time with Anya also meant being near this thing.

“What do you want?” Damian frowned.

“To see my best friend and the thing she chooses to spend time with.”

“You wanted to see me?” Damian smirked. “I’m flattered, Blackbell.”

“Ugh, my Desmond meter is already full.” She put her hand in his face and turned to Anya. “So tell me why you’re spending your free time in a library?”

“Syon-boy is a nerd,” Anya sighed.

“Insulting Desmond.” Blackbell nudged Anya. “Now we’re talking my language.”

“I’m not a nerd.”

“You’re just doing homework.”

“We came here to do our homework.”

She waved off his logic. Damian opened his mouth to tell her just how ridiculous she was when an envelope got slapped down in front of him. He found Ewen and Emile with hands on their knees gasping for air.

“Ay, thing one and thing two finally arrived,” Blackbell said smirking.

“What’s this?” Damian analyzed the neat penmanship scribing his name across the front. The official Eden Academy wax stamp keeping the contents sealed made his blood run cold.

“A 12th year came looking for you,” Ewen eventually got out while leaning heavily against Damian’s chair. “He told us to give that to you.”

“He was an Imperial Scholar.” Emile shook Damian’s shoulder as he spoke. With those words, Damian’s grip tightened on the envelope.

Even Blackbell perked at that one. “Did you get your last star?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Open it.” Anya nudged him encouragingly.

Damian flipped it over, slowly picking the flap. The collective breath had him more anxious than any thought of the letter’s contents. As he slid the carefully tucked letter he realized he didn’t feel nervous at all. He didn’t feel anything.

“Well, what does it say?” Ewen bounced beside him.

“Oh,” Damian’s eyes skimmed the letter before him. Congratulations… last star… imperial scholar… He gently set the paper before him. “I did it. I’m an Imperial Scholar.”

Eight years of sleepless nights for perfect exam scores, eight years of useless extracurricular skills, eight years of random volunteer activities… Eight years of his life were dedicated to this moment, for this piece of paper. He had expected to feel more.

“Holy shit, dude!” Emile wrapped an arm around his shoulder while Ewen ruffled his hair. Normally Damian would be peeved but he felt too out of it to fully process the action.

“No way,” Blackbell grabbed the letter to skim herself. “Aw, I was rooting for Anya to get it first.”

“It was an honorable race, but I gracefully admit defeat.” Anya bowed slightly and lifted her head with a blinding smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Damian felt ridiculous. Why was he disappointed?

“Yeah, good work, Desmond.” Blackbell tossed the letter back at him. “So, what do you wanna do?”

“Do for what?”

“Your ‘I’m An Imperial Scholar And I’m Better Than All Of You Party’?” Blackbell leaned her cheek against her palm. “Where’s your like handwritten scroll of demands?”

“I mean, I am better than you Blackbell, but why are we just now throwing a party for it?”

“It’s for becoming an Imperial Scholar.” Anya clarified. “You worked really hard so we want to celebrate it.”

“Why would we celebrate becoming an Imperial Scholar?”

“Because it’s cool?” Ewen raised a brow.

“Because you get a fancy cape thing now!” Emile added.

“I guess so,” Damian agreed the robe looked cool.

“You aren’t excited?” Anya asked.

“I don’t know.” He answered truthfully. “I just always thought of it as the next step. It had to happen, so celebrating it feels weird.”

“Well, we’re celebrating all the hard work you put into it,” Anya said, placing a comforting hand on his forearm.

Damian shrugged. “I needed to get this last year for it to matter.”

That must be it. There’s nothing worth being happy about when he knew he hadn’t worked hard enough. Regardless of the contents of the envelope, his father viewed this as equivalent to not becoming one at all.

“Wait, is that because of your brother?” Blackbell looked far-off, reaching for information somewhere deep in her brain. “He’s like the youngest to become an Imperial Scholar, right?”

“Something like that.”

“That has nothing to do with you though,” Ewen said.

“Yeah, and they were probably just throwing out stars left and right back then.” Blackbell waved his brother’s accomplishment off like it was meaningless. Never in his life had someone reacted that way to hearing of his older brother.

Anya nodded. “It’s probably way harder to get them now.”

Damian fought down a smile. “I don’t think it works like that.”

“And you’re still really young for an Imperial Scholar,” Emile pointed out. “And the first in our class.”

“Sure, but I could’ve been better.”

“Daddy issues aside. We can all agree you earned it after all the years of nerding out,” Blackbell declared.

“I don’t have daddy issues.” Damian looked between them all. His two closest friends avoided his eyes. “I don’t.”

“It’s okay to have problems,” Blackbell wrapped an arm around Anya. “I tell mine to this cutie all the time.”

“Becky wasn’t hugged enough as a kid.”

“That's why I’m so cranky.”

“Among other things.”

“Hey, watch it, Forger.” Blackbell poked her in the forehead. “Cute only gets you so far in this world.”

“I don’t have daddy issues.” Damian crossed his arms. “Just because my father only cares about my brother’s accomplishments, has forgotten my birthday like four times, spelled my name wrong once on a Christmas card, has never been to one of my soccer games…” Damian paused. Oh god.

“My apologies Mr. Peak Mental Health,” Blackbell rolled her eyes.

“Well even if you don’t think so, this is a really big accomplishment. I'm really proud of you, Syon-boy,” Anya stated. Damian felt his cheeks grow embarrassingly warm. When was the last time someone had said they were proud of him? Has anyone ever said they were proud of him? “It is worth celebrating.”

“I guess getting compliments about how great I am for a while wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…”

“There’s our sack of shit.” Blackbell clapped. “So what are we doing? I suggest we eat at one of those places that sing to you? We can tell them it’s Desmond's birthday.”

“Becky…” Anya said disappointedly.

“Just spitballing ideas.”

“Let’s go to that new arcade,” Ewen hit a fist against his palm.

Blackbell shook her head. “Disgusting.”

“This isn’t for you.” Ewen sneered.

“What about laser tag?” Emile added.

“Run around in a humid room and wear other people’s sweaty vests?” Blackbell gagged. “Desmond would probably explode from too much stimulation anyway.”

“Oh yeah?” Emile turned to him. “Which would you rather do?”

“Uh…” They all sounded terrible. For once in his life, he felt too bad to tell them he hated their ideas.

“How about we do something small?” Anya suggested. “Ice cream or something.”

Damian could manage that. Everyone agreed to that simple concept thank god.

“Fine,” Blackbell stood abruptly, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to pay for it all. As congratulations or whatever.”

“Better not start thinking we’re friends there Blackbell,” Damian smirked a bit.

“As if you’d be that lucky, Desmond,” she scoffed. “It’s not like it’s my money anyway.”

“All you can eat ice cream!” Ewen fist pumped, marching toward the entrance of the library.

“Let’s see how much of Becky’s money we can waste,” Emile snickered.

“You idiots better not.” She scolded. Blackbell gave a meaningful look to Anya before going after them. “I’ll keep the idiots entertained as long as I can, but don’t take too long.”

Anya nodded and Damian just raised a brow. How long did she think it would take them to walk across a room? The question was answered when Anya grabbed his sleeve after he finished packing up his school materials.

“Something wrong?”

She opened her mouth, closing it immediately. Anya unzipped the backpack she’d acted so weird over earlier and pulled out a small, wrapped object. “Here.”

Damian took the cylindrical gift, covered in snowflake wrapping paper, admiring the sheer amount of tape used to keep everything together. He attempted to ask about the soft present, but she gasped, “wait!”

Anya dug through her bag and produced a crumpled-up bow from the bottom. She pressed firmly to the side and it limply hung on. Still, Anya stood back proudly at her work.

“It’s a little early for Christmas.” Damian pointed out.

“That was the only wrapping paper we had,” Anya crossed her arms. “It’s for becoming an Imperial Scholar.”

Damian turned the gift over, fighting back a smile at the messy scribbling of Syon-boy on the side. That felt a million times better than the pristine ‘Damian Desmond’ scrawled across the Imperial Scholar letter.

“You got this pretty quick.”

“I might have already known about you getting your last star.” Anya dug her toe in the carpet while adding a quiet. “I heard it three weeks ago.”

“Three weeks!?”

“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise!”

“You’re too nosey for your own good.”

Anya nudged his arm impatiently. “Open it.”

Damian rolled his eyes. The butterflies were going wild in his stomach when he found a patch that wasn’t covered in tape. Damian tore into it enough to see a bit of olive green yarn before Anya shoved her hands over his eyes.

“I changed my mind!”

“What?” Damian started unwrapping it faster, eyes covered. “About what?”

“Give it back,” Anya tried to take the present from him, keeping one hand on his face and the other swiping for the gift.

“No, it’s mine.” Damian held the gift above his head which Anya couldn’t reach. With the wrapping paper off he could just make out that he’d unrolled what felt shaped like a hat. He shoved Anya away to get a proper look. He bit his cheek to keep his expression even.

It was certainly a hat.

“You hate it.” Anya flopped dramatically onto the table.

“I didn’t say that,” Damian defended weakly. There were several holes throughout the stitching and a very obvious change in the color of the yarn halfway through. He flipped it inside-out in search of the store brand. “Where’s it from?”

Maybe she could get a refund.

“I made it,” she whined.

Damian looked at her, the hideous hat, her. “You what?”

Anya groaned dramatically. “Mama started knitting after my sister was born. I thought it would be cool if I learned and made you something. I didn’t know it would be so hard.” She covered her face with her hands. “Mama makes it looks easy. She’s too good with sharp things.”

Damian blinked. What a weird way to compliment someone’s knitting skills.

“I kept hurting my hands and I didn’t get enough of the right color and it was taking forever.” Anya gestured to her abomination. “I didn’t have enough time to start a new one.”

“You didn’t have to do any of that.” Damian ran a thumb over the soft fabric. This might be the first hand-made gift he’d ever gotten.

“Well you’re always whining about night practice being cold and this Imperial Scholar thing is a big deal.” Anya frowned. “I wanted it to be special.”

Damian distantly remembered little Anya bribing him years ago claiming ‘special people get special gifts’ and felt his chest swell. “It’s not bad.”

“It’s ugly.”

“A little.” He felt a genuine smile spread across his face. “But I don’t hate it.”

Anya seemed surprised and the relieved smile she gave him made those emotions he kept shoved away come knocking against the front of his mind. He was very tempted to let them through.

“Are you two done being gross? I want ice cream.” Ewen shouted from across the room, making him jump. He’d been too absorbed in staring into Anya’s eyes like a loser and thinking about how he certainly didn’t feel anything but friendship for her.

“Be right there.” She waved which was enough confirmation for Ewen to allow Blackbell to rip him back through the library entryway by the collar of his shirt.

Damian collected his backpack with disappointment at their definitely-not-a-moment being ruined. He hoped ice cream was worth the week of no tutoring Ewen would be getting.

“Oh, and Syon-boy,” Anya started walking backward in front of him. He raised a brow. “You should talk to me more.”

“We talk every day.”

“No, I mean if you’re feeling sad.” Anya smiled slightly. “I trust you more than anyone. I want you to feel the same.”

“Right,” he said dumbly.

She spun around and added over her shoulder. “I’ll always be here for you, okay? I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

“Uh-huh,” he said voice cracking.

Anya threw the doors open to their three friends in the hallway. “To the ice cream!” She declared proudly which made Ewen and Emile cheer. The three of them led the path and Damian just watched her. He slid on his new favorite kind-of-ugly hat.

“Cute hat,” Blackbell smirked.

His eyes followed the pink-haired dork skipping in front of them chatting up his friends about the peanut butter flavored ice cream she’d be getting with extra peanuts on top. He, unfortunately, acknowledged he would like it very much if she stayed in his life as long as she wanted.

Because he had no plans of leaving her either.

“Shut up.”

Chapter Text

What was I thinking?

A question Damian frequently had running through his head in the nine years since he’d met Anya Forger. But on nights like this, nights with children sprinting around him with nerf guns and foam swords, it remained a constant hum in the back of his mind.

His shoe tapped restlessly against the concrete sidewalk as he leaned stiffly against the brick movie theater. Anya had directed he met her here at eight p.m. sharp or she’d go in without him. Which believe him seeing the new Spy Wars movie wasn’t on his top ten-top thousand even-fun Friday night activities. Anya just needed someone to go with and he just happened to be free.

He probably could’ve said no if he wanted. He just didn’t hate the idea of being alone with Anya for an extended period of time. Which was completely normal for close friends to enjoy spending time together.

He groaned aloud, thumping his head against the wall in frustration. Damian felt positive at some point one of these brats would run up and call him out as a fake fan who was using this movie to be alone with his friend for impure reasons.

Impure, who even says that?

Apparently mid-existential crisis Damian. He learned new stuff about himself every day.

“Syon-boy, you really came!”

Damian startled. Anya’s featherlight footsteps combined with his constant zoning out made for a dangerous combination. One way or another she’d really give him a heart attack. “I said I’d be here, didn’t I?”

Her smile somehow widened as she nodded. “You look nice.”

“No, I don’t.” He’d spent over thirty minutes making sure he looked completely average. Ewen and Emile even confirmed it. At her confused expression, he cleared his throat, “You also look… uh…”

The Spy Wars t-shirt she adorned had faded from years of usage and she’d tamed her long pink hair into two low braids. For lack of better words, Anya looked adorable. But what else was new?

“Do you like my shirt?” She bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet, straightening it out for a better view. “It’s the vintage Bondman tee from the limited series based on the 80s spin-off manga.”

“Very cool.”

“That wasn’t very enthusiastic.”

“I’m just at a loss for words.” He tried to push down a fond smile. “The jealousy over your cute shirt is killing me.”

“Five-year-old cute or regular cute because one of those is offensive.”

Damian patted her head. “We should hurry inside. There might still be kiddie combos left.”

“You’re the worst.” Anya puffed her cheeks embarrassed.

He gave a dismissive wave while turning toward the theater. “Get more creative with the insults, Forger. I’ve heard it before.”

Anya jogged to catch up. “Well, I can’t be too mean. I don’t want to make you cry, Syon-boy.”

“Like you could ever,” Damian said with a scoff. “Blackbell says I’m emotionally constipated.”

“Firstly, that’s not a good thing,” Anya said with some disbelief. Damian thought that was a little pessimistic of her, but whatever. “Secondly, what about that time during the panda documentary with the babies cuddling people in costu-”

“Shut up. That was one time and I hadn’t slept in three days. It doesn't count.”

Anya giggled at his logic and it didn’t make his heart skip a beat. They approached an employee scanning tickets and he didn’t need mind-reading powers to tell they wanted to leave. They hadn’t bothered hiding the boredom and exhaustion painted across their features.

He could respect that.

Anya held her hand out. Damian glanced between her expectant features and her outreached palm. “Can I help you?”

“Tickets?”

“I don’t have them.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t?”

“What do you mean?” Damian’s gaze flickered across her panicked expression. “You didn’t tell me to get them. Are there even seats left? Anya, I would’ve gotten them days ago if I-”

“I’m kidding. I have them.” Anya pulled two stubs from her back pocket.

Damian blinked. “Why would you do that?”

“I’m sorry.” She covered her mouth to speak toward the employee. “He’s a huge Spy Wars fan, so it freaked him out more than I thought it would.”

The young worker nodded in understanding and a flush rose to Damian’s cheeks. “I am not a Spy Wars fan.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Syon-boy.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen all sorts of people with tickets today.” The worker piped in unhelpfully. He looked exasperatedly between their tired smile and Anya’s devilish smirk, letting out a deep sigh.

“Scan the tickets please.”

The worker chuckled while scanning their tickets. They almost made it into the lobby before the employee stopped them. “Oh! Here’s your free comic.”

Under the false pretense that Damian had seen a single episode of the show, she handed him a slim comic book. He turned the colorful comic over as Anya gasped beside him. “A special manga chapter?” She said while making a grab for it, but he held it above his head.

“Pretty sure this is only for true fans, Anya.”

Her eyes darkened. “You hand that over right now Desmond or I swear...”

He stuck his tongue out in a mock gag. “Desmond?”

“Yeah, it felt gross coming out.” She held the comic book out proudly once he handed it over. “Strictly Syon-boy for me.”

Damian rolled his eyes. The very least she could do was toss in his real name, spice things up a little.

Anya nearly skipped toward the food line, unable to contain her excitement the closer it came to premiere time. The lobby was filled with more people than he imagined for such a film-various ages as the ticket worker had said. Damian glanced down to Anya who studied the lit-up menu above the stand intensely, a small scrunch to her nose. She often wore the same expression whenever they studied together.

Was it weird to be fascinated by the way someone read?

“What do you want?”

“Huh?” Damian asked dumbly.

“Food?” She gestured to the large sign. “What do you want?”

He looked between her and the sign confused. “Popcorn? What else would you get?”

“Soda, cotton candy, regular candy, pretzels, pizza, slush-”

“Pizza at a movie theater?”

“It’s a thing.”

“Shouldn’t be.”

Anya shook her head disappointedly. “So boring.”

“If you want pizza, get pizza, but I’m not eating it.”

“Fine,” Anya sighed deeply, “if you want us to be losers we’ll just get popcorn.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Damian rolled his eyes. Although he’d be lying if that wasn’t something he really really liked about her.

That was another annoying thing that’d been happening recently, focusing too much on her stupid mundane quirks. He’d spent over twenty minutes the other night dopily smiling over her sleeping through their lit class. Not even realizing until Emile pointed out how creepy he looked. He’d found keeping Anya out of his head nearing impossible these days.

Damian paused his mental anxiety rant when he noticed Anya pulling cash from her pockets, counting them out while murmuring simple additions under her breath.

“I can pay for it.”

Her eyebrows shot up and she shifted her money out of view. “No. I made you come so I’m getting the food.”

“But you paid for tickets and it’s only like $35, that’s nothing.”

“That’s nothing,” she mocked under her breath. “Stupid rich kids.”

“I’m not a stupid rich kid.” They locked eyes for a brief moment before he smirked smugly. “I’m a top-of-the-class Imperial Scholar rich kid.”

Anya’s expression dropped. “Sometimes you say things Syon-boy and I just wanna…” She raised a fist, bopping it against his cheek lightly. He stuck his tongue out mockingly.

“Next!” They both turned to the cashier who waved them over with a bright customer service smile. Damian took a step forward but was stopped by Anya’s hand on his chest.

“I am paying.” She stated sternly while pinning him down with a steely glare. “You will stand here and wait. Understood?”

Damian shrunk into his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am.”

She nodded and marched confidently to the register. Then it was just Damian left to stare at a lame cut-out of Bondman shooting a grappling hook, existentially cursing himself that he shouldn’t have found Anya yelling at him as attractive as he had. Blackbell’s right, he must have some unresolved trauma or something.

Maybe he should take a lap around the theater before she gets back. Before he could finish debating the walk Anya was aggressively shoving a bag into his stomach.

“Ah, what the hell?” He asked, but she had already stomped away. “What happened?”

“He was so rude.”

“Really?” Damian raised a brow. The interaction seemed fine, the guy never stopped fake smiling.

“Yeah, he wished us good luck on our date,” Anya said with a scoff. Damian felt warmth rising to his cheeks. “Which is so rude. You can’t just assume people are on a date. Like, what if we were siblings?”

He began choking on air. “Stop, that’s weird.”

“I mean technically I’m adopted, so we don’t really know who-”

“Please, stop talking Anya.” Damian covered an ear with his hand. He really didn’t need that concept to overthink about.

She gasped and backhanded his stomach. “The worst part was he kept getting distracted because he was thinking about how hot you were. It took forever to order.”

Damian smirked as his ego inflated. “Well, you can’t blame the guy for that one. That just means he has eyes.”

She groaned exasperatedly. Damian placed a hand on her head and waved it around lightly. “Let’s just get to your cute little movie. I’m sure you’ll forget all about this by the time it starts.”

Anya crossed her arms, pouting as they wandered the lengthy halls searching for their theater room. “You’re so annoying.”

“We’ve been over this. You need better material, Forger.”

Hiding at the end of the hallway, where it belonged Damian briefly thought smirking, they finally reached the Spy Wars movie. Anya skimmed their ticket stubs while Damian followed mindlessly. He was surprised to find almost every row they passed full, grimacing only when loud children bounced beside each other tossing popcorn.

“Here!” Anya cheered, grabbing his free hand to guide him toward their seats in the middle-back. “I got them a long time ago, so they’re the best ones.”

The best seats were when nobody was anywhere near him, but he wouldn’t ruin her excitement. “Hey, are you gonna be okay with so many people around?”

Anya raised her brows. “I think people will be quiet for the most part.”

“No, I meant headaches?” He tapped his forehead.

Her mouth created a small ‘o’. “Yeah, I’ve gotten really good at turning that off.”

“Okay. I’m here though, so you don’t have to be stubborn about it.” For as long as he’d known Anya he learned she loved helping others, but not so much herself if she felt like a burden.

Anya met his gaze with that guarded expression he wasn’t too fond of. He never knew what she was looking for at times like this, but hoped one day she would find it.

“Okay,” she whispered.

The chatter around the room silenced as the final trailer faded to black and an old Spy Wars theme sounded. A smile spread across Anya’s face the same moment Damian sank into his chair exhaustedly. All he had to do now was make it through two hours of Spy Wars and figure out what to do with his hands.

Clasp them in his lap? No, too proper. At his side? Too stiff. He wanted to use the armrest, but Anya had already claimed the shared one. Each time he glanced over, debating just stealing the arm rest by shoving her aside, he had the simultaneous urge to grab her hand instead. Contemplating ruining their friendship for the brief thrill of lacing their fingers together for a reason other than soothing her headaches.

His lap would have to do.

“Quit squirming around. You’re stressing me out.”

Damian’s face flushed and he sank further into his seat. He mumbled an apology before the theme ended.

After the internal hand-holding debate Damian did his best to focus on everything but Anya’s magnetic presence beside him-which took more brain power than even he thought himself capable of. Admittedly he did not dislike the movie; the cheesy dialogue was manageable and the fight scenes were turning out to be decent. He even laughed once.

He jumped in horror when he felt Anya’s featherlight touch near his hands. Faster than lightning he yanked his hand to his chest, whispering, “sorry.” Without realizing he must have inched his hand closer to hers. “That was an accident.”

Anya’s jaw hung open, probably disgusted at his audacity. “No, I did that.”

He processed her words slowly before responding, “what!?”

Someone near them shushed his outburst and he embarrassingly placed a hand over his mouth. Anya motioned with her hand for him to keep it down and he nodded. “My head started hurting and you said-I thought that implied-since last time we-” Anya shrunk into her shoulders, whispering, “nevermind.”

Damian reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together without thought. Her eyebrows shot up. “Sorry, I was just confused.” He held it firmly and thanked whatever god was out there for the darkened theater covering his reddened cheeks. “Is this good?”

Anya’s lips quirked up as she nodded softly. The moment she decided to place her head on his shoulder was the same moment he decided he’d probably dreamed up this entire night. Surely the soft pressure of her against his too stiff shoulder had been fabricated because there was no logical explanation for it.

He supposed the closer her head was to something the faster it might cure mind-reading pains. Damian assumed there weren’t a lot of studies out there, but it made sense to him. In that case, surely having his head closer would make it even better.

Damian applauded his own genius, he’d truly outdone himself this time.

He side-eyed the pink lump on his shoulder and slowly lowered his head until hair tickled his cheek and he rested gently atop her own. The starved-heart ache in his chest filled with warmth as he relaxed, butterflies creeping into him when she adjusted closer. Holy shit, this was awesome.

Once Bondman finished tying up the movie’s main villain, successfully completing his mission of world peace-Damian rolled his eyes-light filled the room. His heart sank as Anya stretched, coincidently lifting her head from his shoulder, he waited for the final moment she’d let go of his hand.

“Did you like it?” She looked up at him with joy-filled eyes.

Did he like it? That had been the best night in his fifteen years of life.

“It was okay. Not as bad as I thought it’d be,” Damian said, trying to even remember the second half of the movie. But the way she looked at him with unadulterated joy he knew he wouldn’t be giving it anything but raving reviews-even if he never managed to remember the main plot.

“It was amazing,” she claimed while tugging him up by the hand she still grasped. “The jokes were so funny and Bondman’s new outfit was so cool. The last fight scene was apparently super long, but you can hardly tell. That’s how good it was!”

Damian disagreed. The fight felt exactly as long as it was, which probably contributed to why he spaced out so long. “Yeah, it was actually pretty cool. CGI wasn’t bad either.”

“I know, right?”

Damian’s attempts to leave the theater were slow-going. Anya continued to rant about the lore and underlying themes of the movie while he nodded, knowing she didn’t actually care for a response. His true kryptonite had been the few other nerds that had heard her ravings and stopped to geek out with Anya.

Damian just smiled fondly at her hardly-contained excitement while discussing the history of Bondman’s outfits with equally dorky strangers. He took the time to lightly swing their hands back and forth, eventually nudging her in a plea to leave when exhaustion started setting in. He still had to walk back to the dorms after all.

Anya smiled apologetically, waving goodbye to her new friends.

“No one taught you stranger danger?” He asked once they were nearing the exit.

Her lower lip jutted out slightly. “They were nice.”

“That’s how they get you,” he said with a smirk. Anya furrowed her brow, but instead of continuing their usual banter, he lifted up their conjoined hands. “Does your head still hurt?”

She looked between him and their hands with a puzzled expression before her eyebrows shot up. “Right. Headache, uh, no.” She quickly dropped his hand and disappointment filled his chest. “We’re outside so it’s okay now.”

“Good. I’m glad you feel better.”

She nodded, smiling softly. “Thank you, Syon-boy.”

“Sure, what’s a sidekick for?” He shrugged nonchalantly, expecting her to grasp the joke for all it was worth. He’d likely never live that one down. Instead, he froze when she rushed forward, wrapping her arms around his midsection.

Panic coursed through him as the ‘where to place his hands’ dilemma took over his thoughts again. He held them out awkwardly knowing that had to be incorrect.

Anya sniffled and his eyebrows shot up. “Whoa, are you crying?” He placed a hand on top of her head which he assumed was soothing. “What happened? Was it the sidekick joke? I thought you’d think it was funny, I didn’t-”

“They’re happy tears,” she said with another sniffle, nuzzling her face into his chest.

He blinked. “People do that?” His shoulders relaxed slightly when her muffled laughter reached his ears. “Do I let you cry then or should I do something?”

He had never experienced happy tears, he’d barely seen people regular cry. Damian did not know how to handle either situation.

“Have you never hugged someone?” She said with a snort. Damian looked up thoughtfully. Had that been a trick question because he’s pretty sure he hugged her once, but aside from that it was not a part of his daily routine.

Oh, should he be doing that?

He wrapped his arms around her and grimaced at how awkward he felt. Surely one day he’d get better at this. He’d just make the brave sacrifice of hugging Anya more often for practice, or some excuse like that.

“Proud of you,” she said while patting his back. So demeaning, he thought while rolling his eyes. Anya leaned back enough for their eyes to meet and his stomach dropped at the glossy sheen of unshed tears. “I’m really glad we met.”

What the hell? “Is that why you were crying?”

“I just thought of how happy I am.” She rubbed a few stray tears away. “It’s silly, but I realized I haven’t felt alone in a long time. Because of you.”

And what the fuck did he say to that? That she had been the first person who made him feel like he mattered? Like he could be just Damian and people would still care? That she was the reason he had real friends or even felt like he deserved them at all?

Or maybe that he was madly in love with her, probably had been for around nine years?

He stared blankly at the wall behind her. Oh no. Damian let his guard down for too long and the thoughts slipped through with a vengeance. But now that they were free to run rampant he had no chance of collecting them all.

He was in love with Anya Forger.

Damian opened his mouth, closed it. His mind rushed with a thousand thoughts per second until he finally landed on, “I’m happy I have you too.”

Which was the most honest thing he’d said in his entire life. It certainly wasn’t the whole truth, but even he could barely handle that at the moment. The usual race of his heart when Anya stepped back with a dazzling smile felt overwhelming.

“Don’t tell Becky, but you’re my best friend.” She said, digging the ball of her foot into the ground.

Damian bit his cheek to keep his expression neutral. The irony of him accepting his feeling only to be hit with a classic ‘best friend’ seconds later was truly a work of art. “Not bragging to Blackbell? That’s asking a lot of me, Anya.”

“I’m serious,” she laughed.

He knew that. It was why his heart felt like it had been smashed to a thousand pieces. Because he wanted to be the first person she asked to see lame movies with, who she ranted to about outfit lore and weapon themes. He wanted to comfort her through every headache but earn the right to hold her just because. He wanted some employees to joke about them being on a date and be right.

But he knew he wouldn’t have that, which is why he told her, “you’re my best friend too.”

A car honked nearby and inside waved Mr. Forger. Damian casually returned the gesture, muscles stiffening when Anya quickly hugged him again. “I’ll see you Monday Syon-boy.”

“Uh-huh,” he squeaked, not enjoying the new sternness to Mr. Forger’s gaze. Dammit, he’d been doing so well in impressing the dad department too.

Anya gave a final wave before settling in the car. Through the window, he spotted Mr. Forger giving Anya a suggestive-looking smirk before she smacked him lightly on the arm.

Weird.

Damian let out a long sigh, dropping his head back to look up at the star-filled sky. He truly couldn’t believe years of repressing his emotions failed him like that. Now all those previous questions taunting his brain had changed into: what if?

What if he’d finally given in to years of pent-up emotions? What if he’d told her he wanted to be more than friends? What if he’d leaned down and kissed her when she’d been inches away and smiling so softly and-

Damian frowned. He knew better than to dwell on those what-ifs. Nothing good could come from them, and having Anya like this was better than not having her at all.

He did allow the thoughts to follow him home, just for the hell of it. Then he pushed them away as he did best.

Chapter Text

“Syon-boy, it’s not working,” Anya complained. She gripped the front of his snow jacket, mittens right over where his heart threatened to beat out of his chest.

“You’re too stiff,” he explained for the hundredth time since their arrival at Blackbell’s family-owned ski lodge. “You need to relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“If you were, we wouldn't still be here.”

“Maybe the board is broken,” Anya said checking her secured feet. “Let’s try a new one.”

“No, let’s switch to skis. They're easier to learn and we haven’t even made it down the bunny hill.” Damian glanced over Anya’s shoulder to the slopes, groups finishing their descents and making their way back to their chosen ski lifts. He itched to follow them.

“But snowboarding is cooler.” Anya’s cheeks puffed in annoyance. “Let’s just get on the hill. I thrive in stressful situations, Syon-boy.”

“Absolutely not. I won’t be responsible for you breaking a bone.”

Anya groaned. “You’re no fun.”

She was lucky she was so cute. If anyone else had asked he would’ve given up hours ago. Probably wouldn’t have even started. “Let’s just try again.”

She nodded. Damian waited for her to get into the instructed stable position before releasing her shoulders. He counted to ten, ten seconds of her furrowing her brow and poking her tongue out in focused determination before she inevitably tilted backward. He reached out to grab her by the front of her snow coat, readjusted her to some semblance of balance.

“How long was that?”

“Ten seconds,” he said with a smirk, hiding how his heart raced a million miles a second at her mitten gripping his shoulder. “You stuck your butt out again.”

She dropped her forehead onto his chest in disappointment. He barely heard a huffed out, “snowboarding sucks,” mumbled against his chest.

“If you hate it so much why are you doing it?”

“Because it’s important to you.”

Damian raised a brow. “That’s dumb. I don’t care if you don’t like snowboarding.”

She pulled back enough to glare at him through her lashes, sparkling with leftover snowflakes that’d made home there. His lips twitched into an amused smirk-that Anya thought her winter pinkened nose, small visible puffs of warm breath, and messy hair from continuously itching with wool mittens would be intimidating was hilarious.

She was beautiful.

“It’s not dumb if it’d make you happy.”

A warmth filled his chest, fighting off the winter weather better than any jacket could. He hated when she did thoughtful things like that. It made the small voice in the back of his head begging him to give in to his emotions louder. Made him believe doing stupid stuff was a good idea.

His grip on her coat tightened. “But you should be happy too.”

“You being happy makes me happy.”

God dammit. She had to hear how his heart fought against his ribcage to reach her. The effect her words had on him. His gaze drifted toward her soft smile and alarms rang in warning. They were too close. He was in danger of doing something stupid.

“Found you!” Ewen’s calling behind him caused him to push Anya an arm’s distance away. “Where’ve you two been?”

Anya waved to them, unaffected by her now forty-five-degree angle backward. “Syon-boy’s helping me snowboard.”

“How’s that going?” Emile raised a brow at their position.

“Fine.” Damian pulled her back standing flat. He was thankful they’d snapped him out of his love-induced stupor but that didn’t stop disappointment from creeping through the cracks.

“Syon-boy taught me to relax my shoulders, bend my knees, and tuck in my butt.” Anya listed off her fingers. “I can almost stand now!”

“All that in two hours? Your teaching skills amaze me.” Emile fake applauded.

“It’s progress. You should have seen her when we started. A near lost cause.” Anya sent him a sharp glare and jabbed his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes into a half-assed glare. “I’ll let go.”

“You won’t,” she said confidently. His shoulders slumped. He won’t.

“We were hoping you guys were done so we can go on the good hills,” Ewen said gesturing to the largest slope. A smile spread across Damian’s face. The steep hill littered with ramps gave him a surge of anticipation.

Anya gripped his sleeve. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“Not you,” Ewen said. “We’re talking about Damian.”

Anya sighed, relieved. “You really want to go on that death trap?” she asked him.

“Death mountain actually,” Emile corrected.

“That’s its actual name?”

“Not officially, but people call it that,” Damian clarified.

“Scary,” she whispered under her breath. “Guess I’m skiing with Becky tonight.”

“I thought you didn’t want to ski?”

“Well I’m not going near anything called death mountain.” Anya leaned down to free herself off the snowboard. “It’s strictly the bunny hill for me.”

Damian deadpanned, helping her step out of the board. A whole two hours of his life wasted. He grabbed Anya’s rental equipment, tucking it under his arm so they could head inside. “Where is that demon anyway?”

“Arguing with her dad,” Anya said with a disapproving look. Damian would sell his soul if Anya asked, but being best friends with Blackbell was pushing his limits. They got along for the most part. Common ground being their unstated agreement to keep Anya protected at all costs. He respected her in that way.

“Why’s she fighting with her dad?” Ewen asked.

“Becky’s having issues with the ‘all expenses paid’ part of our trip,” Anya said with a frown. “Her dad didn’t know Damian was coming.”

He tilted his head. “I can pay for myself.”

“She said it was the principle of the thing. She said he was being old-fashioned and stupid.”

Damian blinked. He assumed their conversation had something to do with the rest of his family. Wouldn’t be the first time someone hated him for no logical reason other than who they associated him with. “She shouldn’t bother. I don’t mind paying.”

It was his first winter vacation doing something he enjoyed, spending a weekend snowboarding with his friends and having actual quality alone time with Anya. He would pay ten times over for this any day.

“You can tell her yourself. I don’t like telling Becky she’s wrong.”

“I’m good actually,” Damian decided he’d rather not deal with that either.

The heat of the lodge’s lobby was overwhelming when they got through the doors. The building didn’t stand out from other northern lodges, the fake log cabin decor to give a rustic feel. The main selling point was obviously the outdoors. But Damian had visited plenty of ski lodges in his childhood as they were the few family vacations he’d been privy to-whether he experienced family bonding was a separate conversation-he could admit Blackbell’s was high on his quality list.

Amidst his analyzing and stripping free of his overheated jacket he missed the girl barrelling straight toward him, head down and focused. Damian stumbled back, locking eyes with a bewildered Blackbell. She looked between the four of them surprised.

“Becky!” Anya wrapped her arms around the confused girl.

“Hi,” Blackbell hugged Anya loosely, “I was looking for you.”

“And you found me!”

Blackbell smiled fondly at her before turning to the boys sternly. “Alright, focus up morons.” Damian frowned. She switched up so fast. “I have two key cards for each of you. One is for rooms and one is for food. Anya, how much was the snowboard? I’m going to refund.”

Anya tilted her head. “Syon-boy said renting is free?”

They all turned to face him with suspicious stares. He cleared his throat, “look at the time. I am starving. What about you guys?”

“How much was the rental?” Blackbell asked.

Damian looked between her and Anya. He sighed deeply, “like $78.”

“Syon-boy,” said Anya disapprovingly.

Blackbell pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m not going to refund you because you’re an idiot and it’s exhausting.”

“I understand.”

“Okay. Dumb, dumber, and Desmond all your stuff is in your rooms. The food is all past the elevators.” Blackbell grabbed Anya’s hand and pulled her toward the doors again. “I’m taking my precious angel to get quality skis.”

Damian’s eyes widened. “Return this while you’re there.” He handed them the snowboard and Blackbell yanked it with more mumbling. He didn’t appreciate how Anya giggled as they exited the lodge.

“Am I dumb or dumber?” Ewen asked.

“Dunno, but I’m Desmond.”

“Thanks, Sherlock.” Emile crossed his arms. “Is that even a compliment?”

Damian looked up thoughtfully. No. It wasn’t. “Oh, I see.”

“Let’s just eat,” Ewen said. “I need a break to prepare for the real boarding.”

Damian agreed. He always sought excuses to spend time with Anya, but the main goal for this trip was to have fun. Embarrassing as it was, he'd been dying to go to Blackbell’s family’s lodge for years so he jumped on the opportunity when she invited them the week before break. Albeit a little too eager for his taste but nothing to worry over now.

If it got his mind off Anya for a few hours that would just be a bonus. Damian could use a vacation in more ways than one.

He nearly skipped after his friends down the halls, excitement radiating off him. He couldn’t wait. The mountain better be as great as the rumors amped it up to be.

***

Damian hadn’t felt this alive in years.

The frigid air that stung his cheeks as he sped down the hill was forgotten each time he became weightless. The several ramps and mounds littering the slope left him downright giddy riding the ski lift imagining his next route down. Damian hardly noticed the face-splitting grin he hadn’t shaken since they’d begun.

Was this how Anya felt every day?

When he reached the bottom he drifted toward Ewen and Emile off to the side. Damian buzzed with adrenaline already thinking about his next trip down.

“This is amazing. Let’s go again,” said Damian. If it hadn’t been for his snowboard restraining him he’d be bouncing excitedly. He expected to be matched with equal enthusiasm but received a pair of exhausted smiles.

“Dude, it’s been hours. I need a break,” Emile said. He rolled his shoulder as Ewen nodded in agreement.

Being full of energy gave him disbelief but the setting sunset confirmed their claims. He jutted his lower lip out in definitely not a pout. “Lame.”

“You can keep going if you want,” Email said.

“It’s more fun with you guys though.”

They both stared at Damian suspiciously before Ewen said, “Happy Damian makes me uncomfortable.”

Damian tilted his head to the side. He was always happy. At least he thought was.

“Hey, Anya and Becky.” Ewen pointed over Damian’s shoulder and his gaze whipped in the direction. Any thought he’d been piecing together fell apart as he searched for her adorable features shining amongst the crowd.

Panic consumed him when he spotted her small figure splayed out in the snow with an arm slung over her eyes. Blackbell kneeled beside her poking her stomach uselessly and Damian speedily freed himself of his board.

“Where are you-”

His feet carried him there in record speed before he’d even thought to move. Damian dropped beside her, hesitantly searching for the injury. “What happened? Is she okay? Does she need to go to a hos-”

“Calm down knight in shining armor,” Blackbell said waving him off dismissively. “She’s just being dramatic.”

“I suck at snow sports,” Anya whined.

Damian let out a deep sigh of relief. The loud, unwelcome thought that he’d be lost without her roared in his head. He attempted to mentally swat it away, eyes continuing to check she was injured. Just in case.

Blackbell watched him too carefully, standing with an exasperated sigh. “I’m going to put our skis away. I’m sure you can handle this, Desmond.”

“Uh, sure,” he said with a raised brow.

Anya lifted her arm to peek at him. “Why aren’t you snowboarding?”

“I thought you were hurt.”

Anya continued to watch him, unreadable. “Becky made me move from the bunny hill. I keep falling.”

“You’re already off the bunny hill?” Damian let out a huff of laughter. “That’s amazing, Anya.”

“Did you have caffeine?”

“No. Caffeine hasn't worked since my crippling addiction when I was eight, remember?”

“I forgot about that,” Anya said, raising a brow. “You’re just really smiley.”

“Is it bad?”

“No, I like your smile,” Anya declared pushing herself into sitting. Thank god his face was still frozen or else she’d notice the blush forming. “I’m sorry I’m bad at skiing too.”

“I already told you. You don’t have to care about things I like.”

“But what if you want to go on a ski vacation again? I want to be part of it with you.”

And that just wasn’t fair. How the hell was he supposed to hold back screaming how much he loved her when she told him things like that?

“I like teaching you, and the bunny hill isn’t so bad. Just being with you is enough.” And like an idiot Damian reached over and touched her cheek.

He thought she might pull back, smack his arm away disgusted even. In his ten years of knowing Anya, of meaningless bickering, tireless study sessions, forced socialization, and realizations that kept him staring at his ceiling till early morning hours, this was the first he had initiated any genuine physical affection between them. He allowed himself to cup her cheek.

“I like being with you too.” Anya leaned into his touch. He willed his heart to be still.

Even through his wool glove her skin felt cool from the winter’s air. She stayed still, but her eyes roamed his face waiting for his next move. He dropped his gaze to her lips. Maybe stupid wouldn’t be so bad for once.

“It’s a hazard to make out by the slopes,” an instructor said monotone above them. “There’s plenty of places behind the rental shop to sneak off to, but let’s keep it away from the children.”

Damian turned a brilliant shade of red, dropping his hand. “Okay,” he squeaked.

As Anya tracked the instructor’s leave with her eyes, he shakily stood, swiping leftover snow off his knees. Damian needed to take these constant interruptions as the blaring signs they were.

“Sorry,” he said, offering Anya a hand. She looked at him, his hand, him. She tilted her head.

“Sorry for what?”

She hadn’t noticed. “Nevermind.”

Anya allowed herself to be hoisted up but Damian released her hand the moment she was balanced. The thundering of his heart in his ears made it hard to think straight. He needed to leave.

“I’ll see you at dinner?” asked Anya. There was a pink tint to her cheeks. Damian stilled the hope in his chest, reminding himself of the snow dusting the ground around them.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go let Ewen and Emile know you’re okay.” He waved lazily over his shoulder. “See you in a bit. Love ya, bye.”

Time froze. That had to be another daydream. Slowly he turned to look back at her, his veins turned to ice at her slack-jawed and wide-eyed stare. Her unfocused eyes looked right through him in whatever panicked state he’d caused.

Fuck.

Damian should explain. Find a bullshit excuse that could mend this.

He took a step back, then another.

Or maybe Damian should use this opportunity to finally confess the years he’s spent loving her so much it hurts. That if she looked at him too long he forgot how to breathe. How he sometimes worried he’d pass out from how uncontrollably his heart reacted around her. Maybe mention that he wanted to spend every second of the rest of his life with her while he’s at it.

Damian sprinted away. He had never mentally prepared for a post-confession situation. Never imagined he’d make it that far. He spotted Ewen and Emile lounging outside a lodge entrance and beelined in their direction.

“Damian! We’ve been waiting for-What’s wrong?” Ewen asked as he neared.

He grasped Emile’s shoulders and shook him roughly. “I fucked up.”

“What’d you do?” asked Ewen.

“I almost kissed Anya and then I accidentally told her I loved her.”

They cocked their heads to the side, mulling the information over. Emile asking, “so, what’s the problem?”

“Were you not paying attention? The kissing? The accidental confession? My life is over!”

“You’re being a little dramatic,” Emile said brushing Damian’s hands off his shoulder. “How do you accidentally confess your love to someone anyway?”

“I don’t know,” he whined. “I just think about it a lot and then the kissing stuff and the mood was all weird and it just slipped out.”

“Isn’t this a good thing? You can just confess for real now,” Ewen suggested.

Damian stared at Ewen for several seconds before groaning, “Ewen that’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever said.”

“No, I think he has a point.” Emile gestured toward Ewen. “If I have to keep watching you stare at Anya like a creep during class I might drop out.”

“I don’t look like a creep.”

“It’s a little creepy,” Ewen confirmed.

“Where are you, Desmond?” Blackbell’s angry call blasted behind them. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

“Uh-oh, someone’s in trouble.”

“Tell her I died in a tragic snowboarding accident.”

“You want us to lie to Becky?”

“I believe in you,” he said clapping them each on a shoulder before swinging open the lodge door.

“Where are you going?”

“Probably running away forever.” It couldn’t be that difficult to change your identity and start your life over. He could pull off blonde hair. The only flaw with that plan being he’d be insane to drop out of school.

He sighed deeply, everything would be okay. He would definitely figure something out.

***

Damian was fucked.

He paced circles around his lodge room with quakes of anxiety vibrating under his skin. He had been foolish. Given into the hope that’d rustled its wings and took flight within him at Anya’s fond words. That he’d thought Anya would accept any genuine feelings from him for even a second was downright laughable. He knew better.

Even still his palm had the memory of cradling her cheek seared into its skin. The neverending spiral of what could have happened if he’d only had a few more seconds. His internal conflict raged fiercely within him. He had no solutions, just wished he’d brought something to ease his developing headache.

The thrum of knocks that pulled him out of his headspace was both a blessing and further stress-inducing. If Ewen or Emile were outside his door then who was busy distracting Blackbell?

The second repetition of knocks, this time harsher, sounded against the wood and he rolled his eyes. Damian approached the door lacking the night’s previous adrenaline and flung it open with equally zero vigor.

“I told you guys to-” All words left his mind. Anya’s fierce viridian eyes locked onto him before she shoved her way into his room. “Anya, uh, just who I wanted to see.”

“Liar.” She gestured to his door. “Close it.”

Damian frowned. “What’re you doing here?”

“Emile leaked you were avoiding me,” she said tapping her temple. Stupid mind reading.

“Avoiding is a strong word.” Damian attempted a laugh that sounded fake even to him. Anya gave him a deadpan stare before she began stressfully pacing circles in his previous pathing.

“I need to apologize for earlier. I’m so sorry, Syon-boy.”

Damian tilted his head. “When earlier?”

“The almost kiss.” Oh no, she had noticed. “I’ve just been really scared you’ll leave, but after that thing you said earlier I realized how selfish I am for-”

“Hold on,” Damian said lifting a hand. “If it’s the thing I think, then it was an accident and we should pretend it never happened. If it’s anything else then, uh, continue.”

Anya stared blankly, her eyes roamed his face for half a second before she rolled them. “After the thing you maybe said earlier I realized how selfish I am for just pretending things never happened.”

“Can you be less cryptic? My head already hurt before you got here.”

“Damian Desmond.” Anya marched up to him placing her hands on either side of his face. She tugged him down to eye level. “I can read people’s minds.”

He blinked. “I think we’ve had this conversation already.”

“You were the first person to know.”

“I remember.”

“Because I’ve always known you were good. I’ve always trusted you. You’ve always mattered to me and-”

“Anya, you’re being weirder than usual.”

She nodded. “I just need you to know how important you are to me.”

There she went again making his heart flutter. A feeling that made him want to do dangerously stupid things. Ones he’d curse himself out for moments later but could never deny in the moment.

Damian leaned forward gently enough to bump their foreheads together. “I got it.”

“My papa is a secret agent and my mama is an assassin.”

His smile fell as his brain attempted to process the nonsense Anya had spewed out. He leaned back to take in her wary expression. Like four years prior he waited for her to burst out laughing at him but just like then nothing came.

“Secret agent like spy wars?”

Anya had the audacity to nearly laugh. “A little more intense, but yeah.”

“An assassin like with murder?” Damian asked hesitantly. At Anya’s nervous nod he ran a hand through his hair exasperated. Mr. and Mrs. Forger were the nicest people he’d ever met, he couldn’t imagine them hurting a fly.

He’d only felt threatened by Mrs. Forger after the snack fiasco when he was eleven, but Anya and Mr. Forger assured him it had been an accident. Anya forgot to warn him they only eat food when offered by her father. He hoped it being an accident was still true.

“You’re panicking.”

“I’m just processing,” Damian said, “but I’ll probably panic later when it sinks in.”

Anya frowned. “I can answer as many questions as I’m allowed.” Allowed. Probably best he kept the secret agent knowledge to a minimum.

“Am I allowed to know this?”

“Of course! As long as you tell no one and my parents never find out.” Which sounded like a cheerful roundabout way of saying no. “There’s one more thing.”

“Anya, if you tell me your little sister sees the future I may pass out.”

“No, that’s Bond.”

“The dog?”

“How else would I have known you were going to rip your pants before that big speech our third year?”

“You’re right. How foolish of me to think anything you do is a coincidence.” Why couldn’t he fall in love with a simple girl who owned a plain dog and grew up with a normal family? “Okay, last thing. Then I’m going to sleep until life makes sense again.”

Anya’s lips quirked. She took a shaky breath before saying, “my papa once had a mission to get close to your dad. I didn’t understand it, but I thought if we became friends it would help him meet your dad.” Damian’s stomach churned uncomfortably as she continued, “I think it lasted our first four years.”

Damian frowned. Those few years of Anya begging to come over only to abruptly lose interest suddenly made perfect sense. “You pretended to like me for four years?”

“I thought I was pretending for the mission, but around our fourth year I realized I just genuinely liked you and wanted to be your friend.”

“You said you never cared about family names or political status.”

“I didn’t. I never fully understood why you being a Desmond mattered. You were always just my Syon-boy.” Anya reached out, hesitating when she got too close. He hated it. “I barely even remember that stuff. Just that I thought my parents would return me if I failed.”

The years of pestering that made his childhood self initially develop feelings for Anya came crashing as he realized they were fake. Forced and unwanted. The knowledge that the only person he thought had wanted to befriend him for being Damian had also been attracted to the Desmond stabbed his chest.

He should have known better.

“What if you’re still pretending?” Damian asked, taking in her shocked look. “You once said reading my mind had been a habit, right? Maybe being near me and caring about me had too.”

Anya’s crestfallen expression felt like a reflection of the turmoil inside his chest. The part of him that yearned to comfort her was busy mocking him for believing she would even want that.

“Damian, that doesn’t make sense.” She rubbed her eyes with her palms. “We’ve changed so much. I would never do that.”

“Apparently you would.”

“When I was a naive child.” She threw her arms up. “I didn’t fully understand why I wanted to be close to you, so I used the mission to explain it. But caring about you has always been genuine.”

A small voice in his head begged him to believe her. To keep going like nothing had changed. A much larger voice, sounding an awful lot like his parents, screamed that he hadn’t deserved her from the start. Whether she meant it or not it had unlocked a darker section he’d been able to block off until now.

“I think I need to nap a bit.”

“Wait, Damian I-”

“Anya, I really just need to think. Process it a little more, okay?” He gave her a half-smile but she stared back evenly. He forgot. Even without reading his mind she knew his inner workings too well.

“You processing it too much is what makes me nervous.”

“It’ll be fine.”

He knew she didn’t believe him. But still, she made her way toward the door, pausing when her hand landed on the knob. “Promise me you won’t overthink everything. Even if you hate me and need to yell, I want us to talk again.”

Damian could never hate her. She could put him through immeasurable pain and he still wouldn’t hate her. But he didn’t say that. Damian didn’t say anything. He gave her a slight nod as she left the room discouraged.

He knew it wasn’t enough but it was all he could muster. He had no clue what would come next, just that the path ahead felt cold and empty. Damian resisted the urge to think about Anya for less than a minute, falling face first on his mattress he let out a deep groan.

Love should be easy. So why the hell did he hurt so bad?

Chapter Text

Damian was dreaming again. Dreaming of her.

She haunted all his dreams recently. In the good ones he managed to walk away. Rid himself of the distraction that was her blinding smile and enchanting whispers. He could resist the way she called out to him, filling his chest with tender warmth.

In the bad ones he couldn’t. On the worst nights her laughter drew him in like a siren song. Anya would speak softly, words dipped in longing like she truly wanted him. On these nights he could confidently hold her, place his head against her collarbone and feel like he belonged there. And she would run her fingers through his hair and whisper things sweeter than he could ever deserve.

This was a bad dream. Right now every horrible memory faded to dust when he laced their fingers together. When he brushed his fingers against her cheek, skin too soft for someone so reckless. He just wanted a little more time like this, a few more seconds so the mess could disappear.

“Damian.”

“Anya,” he muttered, reaching weakly toward her sweet melody.

“Damian.” She sounded annoyed. “Dude, quit fantasizing we’re here.”

He was awake. And it wasn’t Anya’s beautiful green eyes greeting him. Ewen and Emile were peering down over bus seats with amused grins. He closed his eyes and adjusted more comfortably in his seat.

“No thanks.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Ewen said, dropping a duffel bag abruptly on Damian’s lap. “You signed up for this.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Did someone forge your signature?” Emile asked with an eye roll. They already stood in the bus aisle to follow their classmates off. With a groan Damian joined them because no. He technically signed the sheet.

The past month he’d attempted to persuade every faculty member he could to get him out of this optional camping field trip-more essays, extra tests, grading papers, and class clean up-but nothing worked. Apparently, they had finalized plans and changing the number of students involved would be too much work.

The only reason he voluntarily signed up to be miserable for a full weekend was that at the beginning of the year he had desperately wanted to impress Anya. The way her eyes had dazzled when talking about the weekend in the woods, discussing activities they could do together and all she could teach him. His heart set ablaze at the images she painted and he didn’t think twice about how much he hated dirt.

Months later all he had was a poorly packed duffle bag and regret.

Damian glanced out the bus windows and spotted Anya speaking animatedly with Blackbell. His heart panged painfully when she laughed at Blackbell’s suitcase getting caught in a pile of branches. It had been a few months since they’d had a direct conversation. Once or twice Blackbell would take a sudden interest in his life but he knew that was Anya being nosey.

“Where should we put our tents?” Emile asked once off the bus.

“Does it matter?” Damian looked around the campsite. Ground and trees. Nothing exactly stood out. “Everything looks the same.”

“I mean I don’t want to be by the forest edge. What if there's bears?” Ewen commented.

“Bears aren’t native here.” His friends released a breath of relief before he added, “It’s mountain lions but there’s no sightings near this area.”

“Mountain lions!?” Emile panicked. He immediately ran to the teacher supervising the trip for confirmation. To be fair Damian never fact-checked, it was something Anya had mentioned in prior ramblings.

Speaking of. His eyes roamed the site and happened to land on the girl in question already setting up her own tent. Blackbell forever useless stood to the side fanning herself with the instruction manual. On second thought Damian knew the perfect spot to set up base.

He pivoted in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?” Ewen asked.

“Setting up my tent.”

“That’s so out of the way! You’re nowhere near us.”

Damian shrugged. He reached the forest’s edge and dropped the bag on uneven ground. A perfect spot when he thought about it he could barely hear any of his classmates. Maybe he could spend the whole weekend hiding in his flimsy tent. Fake sick so everyone would leave him alone.

He dumped the tent’s contents out and blinked. What the hell was all this? There was no way he needed that many parts for a single-person tent. The hell were the little metal sticks and why were all the big ones connected with the rope? He thought it would just pop up.

The instruction manual taunted him from the bottom of the bag.

Stupid camping. Making him read stupid instructions for a stupid tent. He was too smart to have to be demeaned by a manual. He opened the booklet with a raised brow. All he got from it was that tents were untrustworthy and unstable. He wanted to go home.

“Do you need help?”

Damian jumped, scrambling not to drop the instruction packet. He had always hated how Anya snuck up on him and now was no exception. He glanced over his shoulder at her half-smile. He brought all focus back to the instructions when his heart unwillingly skipped.

“I got it.”

“But you’re reading instructions,” she pointed out before adding, “you hate reading instructions.”

“Not anymore.”

He felt her presence like electricity when she leaned closer to peek at the paper. “You’re starting on step nine.”

Oh. “I’m studying ahead.”

Anya gave him that exhausted look when she knew he was lying. He hated that look. And logically this was the part where he told her to leave. The part where Damian Desmond gave that final push and rid himself of the massive wound labeled ‘Anya Forger’ forever.

Too bad he loved torturing himself. “Don’t you have your own tent?”

“I finished,” she said pointing toward a complete double-sized tent that hadn’t been there two minutes ago.

“Fine.”

Anya’s smile beamed and she immediately went to work on his tent. “Put the big black sticks together,” she instructed.

They worked quietly for a few moments and Damian disliked the unusual discomfort of their silence. But what had he expected? That he could ignore her for three months and everything would just feel normal? The last conversation they had after returning to school was him saying, ‘he was just confused and needed more time’. Even he wouldn’t know what to do with that.

“Here’s the sticks. What should I-”

“Are you still processing?” Anya blurted the question and Damian stiffened. He had given up on processing long ago. Every outcome had been burned into his brain from how many hours he’d wasted thinking about it.

“Sort of.” He chanced a look at her, realizing she was studying him. Her eyes dismantled him slowly, ready to dissect every lie he had on hand. Call him out for everything he was too tired to convince her of.

She didn’t look away when she said, “you’re still avoiding me.”

“I’m not obligated to talk to you.”

Her eyes widened in shock, hurt. Because although it was true, it wasn’t something he would normally say. And even though it already felt like his heart had been ripped out and pushed through a shredder, it still somehow ached to watch her shoulders fall defeatedly.

“I guess not.” Anya looked at the half-put-together tent, hesitating before pushing the instruction book back at him. “I think you’ll be fine on your own.”

He watched her go, eyes landing on the half-completed equipment around him. A knot formed in his stomach as he unnecessarily thumbed through the booklet's pages. He hadn’t liked the resignation in her voice.

“You’re still working on your tent?” Ewen asked, startling him.

“Apparently.”

“Were you talking to Anya?” He followed up, crouching beside him to start assisting with the building. He started inserting the sticks Anya had him put together through some strands along the sides of the thin fabric.

“Something like that.”

“Are you friends again?” Emile strolled up. “I think watching you fight is taking years off my life.”

“I’m sure you’ll survive.” Damian side-eyed him, annoyed. “And we’re not fighting.”

“So Anya angrily stomped away just now because you weren’t fighting?”

“I’m not fighting,” Damian said matter-of-factly. “Anya’s her own person.”

They stared at him baffled. “You’re so dumb sometimes, dude,” Ewen remarked.

The moment Damian’s tent was completed the teacher supervising the trip clapped loudly in an attempt to garner attention. “Alright, gather round. It’s time for the fun part of your trip: education.” A chorus of boos resounded the campsite as their teacher called them to the center of the grounds. “Not my choice. Find the paper with your name and pass the pile along.”

Opposite the rest of his classmates, Damian preferred an assignment to distract his mind from wandering toward Anya. The worksheet listed several landmarks in the area and he frowned. He’d been tricked. This wasn’t homework, it was a map.

“You’ll be working with a partner to hike along your chosen path, marking off the locations as you find them.” Their teacher explained. It sounded incredibly flawed. What was stopping him from marking everything off and just sleeping in his tent?

“Do you think they’ll let us be a group of three?” Ewen asked eagerly.

He hoped not. There’s no way he could fake hike with Ewen and Emile dragging him around. “Maybe.”

“Our maps are all different,” Emile said, holding his sheet forward. And he was right. Each assignment had a different trail listed at the top corner.

“The school’s given me a list of assigned partners that we-” Their teacher got cut off by shouts of complaints but he angrily continued. “-we have to follow. Once I read your name, find your partner and leave. Be back before sundown.”

Damian had a bad sense of deja vu. Being forced to partner with Anya for a school field trip. He was on edge thinking about being alone with her for several hours, urged to talk about emotions he’d been shoving aside. He had no confidence he wouldn’t do something he’d regret.

“Desmond.” His head shot up. Heart racing nervously for the dooming ‘Forger’ to follow. “And Blackbell.”

Oh, that was so much worse.

“What!?” He and Blackbell shouted in unison. Ewen and Emile burst into laughter, joined by the snickers of the class. He thought he noticed even Anya covering her mouth to hide a smile.

“I’m not going,” Blackbell said defiantly. “I’d rather roll in the dirt than partner with Desmond.”

He smirked. “You don’t have to get all dressed up for the hike.”

A small snort sounded and Blackbell gasped offended, “Anya.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Damian chastised himself for the strike of pride he felt at making Anya laugh. An old habit he hadn’t gotten rid of just yet.

With an exaggerated huff, Blackbell stomped over and clutched his sweatshirt sleeve. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Don’t touch me.”

After an aggressive debate over which path was their assigned trail-neither realizing there was a map at the entrance of their campgrounds-they finally got started. Damian’s attention flickered between his worksheet and the forest floor. Careful not to step on any spot that closely resembled mud. He would like to not bring this back to his tent or dorm or anywhere.

It took a moment too long to realize Blackbell was no longer walking beside him. He whipped his head around and spotted her lying flat on a wooden bench several yards back. She looked ready to sleep.

“What are you doing? We haven’t even made it to the first checkmark.”

“We both know we don’t have to do this stupid hike.”

Damian looked to the side feigning ignorance. “What do you mean?”

She gestured for him to hand over their worksheets, proceeding to cross off every objective they had. “We did it! And at a world record pace.” She tossed the papers aside lazily, his eyes tracked them annoyed as they drifted onto his shoes.

“What if we get in trouble?”

“We both know the teacher’s too lazy to look for us. He wants to be here as much as we do.” She rolled her head to look at him. “We just have to wait a bit.”

“How long is a bit?”

“However long a hike takes.”

“How long is that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never hiked before. I assumed you had.” She raised a brow when he shook his head. “But you’re all athletic and enjoy exercise.”

“Fun exercise. Hiking is just avoiding mud, looking at identical trees, and being alone with your thoughts.” Damian preferred to do none of those things.

“Then what’d you sign up for?” She asked disinterestedly, but her eyes taunted him. Blackbell knew exactly what he signed up for-who he signed up for.

He nudged her head in a gesture for her to give him space, surprised when she sat up without a fight. “If you already know, why bother asking?”

“It’s fun when you admit you’re stupid.” She gave him a once-over when he was seated. “So what’s your issue lately?”

“No issues.”

“Save your lies for Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” she said with an eye roll. “Something happened because my romantic-ski-weekend scheme was going perfectly until you confessed your undying love for Anya. Then she got all depressed and you ‘got sick’ and went home early.”

“I didn’t confess anything.” Damian sneered. “I maybe accidentally said some stuff that implied some not normal feelings, but I didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, so you’re not in love with Anya?” Blackbell said, daring him to argue with her.

“I… don’t think that’s relevant.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Why don’t you ask Anya what her issue is?” Damian scoffed. “I’m sure she could explain it better.”

“So she turned you down?”

Damian looked at her baffled. “What? No.”

“You turned her down?”

“No. There wasn’t anything to turn-”

“Then why are you two moping around like you broke up?” Blackbell threw her arms up. “Anya wouldn’t let me yell at you, so I thought she did something after you’re not-confession. Did you panic and take it back?”

“Why do you care?”

“I didn’t watch eleven seasons of this just for you to end up single, Desmond.” She clapped his shoulder near threateningly. “So how about you tell me what happened so we can get this show back on the road.”

Eleven seasons, what was she talking about? “You’re crazy.”

“I’m committed to a cause,” she waved her hands, urging him to keep talking. “Spill it loverboy. What’s going on in that thick skull?”

He regarded her warily. Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst decision to air his dilemma out loud. And Blackbell knew Anya almost as well as he did. He could get some useful insight out of it.

…screw it. Things couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Anya’s been lying to me.”

“About?”

“When we were younger Anya pretended to care about me to get closer to my family.”

Blackbell looked at him expectantly. “And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’? That’s a big lie.”

“Well, she didn’t try very hard,” Blackbell stated. “She did a terrible job at sucking up to you. Half the time she talked to you it was borderline insults.”

That… was true. If there was one thing Damian had gotten good at it was recognizing when people were using him. Picking up on when they were looking right through him to his connections or had an end goal to a conversation. It had been happening since he could walk. But he’d never felt that with Anya.

It was easier for him not to delve into why.

“She probably just sucked at it.”

“I don’t think Anya even understood what political status really meant until our third year. By then she kind of hated your family.” Blackbell looked over exhaustedly. “Never shut up about you though.”

Damian eyed her skeptically. “That doesn’t add up to Anya’s story.”

“I’m just relaying the facts,” Blackbell shrugged. “And that was when we were kids. Obviously, she cares now.”

“It was all fake though. I thought she cared about me, but she didn’t.”

“I think you're placing meaning where it doesn’t need to be.” Blackbell poked him in the cheek. “I think little Syon-boy confessed his love, got scared, and needed the first excuse to get out of it.”

Damian blinked. “What?”

“Put those two brain cells to work, Desmond.” She clapped her hands. “Anya made a mistake. You’re justified in being upset, sure, but is it really worth cutting her out completely or is that just easier for you?”

Damian’s eyebrows rose. Easier?

“I think we both know the answer, so I’m not going to waste my life lecturing you.” Blackbell stood stretching her arms above her head. “But if you’re going to be an idiot. Just do it. Anya doesn’t deserve to be strung along like this.”

Damian focused his attention on his feet. That much he knew.

“Let’s go back to camp, you’ve exhausted my social meter.” Blackbell declared as she began the short trek toward the camping grounds.

Damian followed her down the trail. “Has it been long enough?”

“Who cares? I’m over waiting.” Blackbell shot a smirk over her shoulder. “Blame it on me if we’re early.”

He strayed behind her as they walked slowly back to camp. A new barrage of worries attacked his mind.

***

The students who eagerly awaited this field trip gathered amidst picnic tables, divvying up snack supplies amongst other classmates for campfire activities. To his dismay, after the disgusting burnt hotdog dinner, they’d tried feeding him they were attempting to force overcooked marshmallows down his throat next. Damian rested his chin heavily in his palm while using a random branch to poke at the fire Ewen and Emile had struggled to set up. He shoved logs around to adjust smoke from his face, but mostly to pretend he was busy.

Blackbell’s gossip hour turned therapy session had him borderline mental breakdown since they’d returned from their mock hike assignment. He’d been doing his best to keep distracted, focusing on conversations with friends and attempting to participate in whatever they dragged him to, but as the sun disappeared so did his strength to keep unwanted thoughts down.

Damian knew he wasn’t special. Without the Desmond name, he was nobody at all. You could turn him on all sides, analyze him for days and come to the same conclusion that he was nothing. He’d always yearned to be loved for how average he was, that someone would choose him not despite it but because of it. Give him the sense of irreplaceability he’d never had.

Then Anya appeared. The most extraordinary person anyone could come across. The only person who’d truly known him, made him feel seen. And he loved her. He had loved her since before he even knew what love was. From the moment she punched him in the face like he was some no-name brat whose opinion meant nothing to her.

But he hated that too. Deep down a part of him never liked the way he loved her. It felt too desperate to crave something he’d never had before. Too awkward fumbling around an emotion he’d never been taught. Like any love she could feel for him would be wrong and undeserving. And if she left he wouldn’t know what to do.

So maybe Blackbell was right, maybe pushing her away like this was easier.

“Are you okay, man?” Ewen asked hesitantly, waving a hand in his face. Damian blinked back to reality. “You’ve been acting weird all night.”

“It was Blackbell wasn’t it? She did something evil I bet.” Emile narrowed his eyes suspiciously toward a nearby fire pit.

“I’m fine.” Damian followed Emile’s stare, stomach dropping when they landed on Anya.

His eyes scanned her face as they always did, closely, studying the details like the straight-A student he was. Her thin pink brows, the spark in her viridian eyes, the upward tilt of her lips. Her lips spread wide now as she smiled at some story their classmate told across the fire that flickered its orange hues, illuminating her ivory skin. It made her look warm, softer than usual.

Anya blinked, seemingly confused before her eyes glanced in his direction. He snapped his stare back toward the lit logs, quickly poking at them faster. Maybe she hadn’t noticed. He side-eyed her and she was staring intensely.

She had.

“Alright, kids, let’s put out the fires.” Their teacher walked around the campsite tossing out a few water bottles to groups. Damian barely caught his. “It’s almost curfew and I don’t feel like staying up to babysit.”

The majority of the class was groaning out complaints about the early curfew, the sun having barely set a few hours ago, but Damian could feel Anya’s eyes burning holes into his back so he couldn’t wait to get out of there. He dumped the contents of the bottle over the fire, kicking dirt over the remains like he saw others doing in his peripheral.

“This sucks,” Emile groaned, walking sluggishly toward his tent. “What are we, toddlers? We didn’t even get to make s’mores.”

Damian shrugged. “Who cares? Faster I fall asleep the faster I can get this weekend over with.”

“Teach just wants an excuse to fall asleep. He doesn’t want to be responsible for everyone doing stupid stuff tonight,” Ewen said with a shake of his head.

“What are you talking about?”

“Half the class is sneaking out,” Ewen pointed to some trail across the site. “I guess there’s some haunted clearing toward the middle of that trail. You have to go off path a little bit-”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re not coming?” Emile asked disappointed.

“Are you crazy? I’m not risking my perfect merit to walk in the woods at night.”

They booed after him as he ducked into his tent. Damian felt no regret as he searched for the least rock-ridden place to unroll his sleeping bag. Even though he wanted to sleep the weekend away, Damian would not be sleeping. Not with all the new information to torture himself with.

Damian had no clue what to do with his life. The only thing he was certain of? He would never take a mattress for granted again.

He didn’t hear anyone approach his tent, only the unzipping of the door that told him a guest was welcoming themselves inside. Damian jumped across the small space at the noise, scooting further when Anya’s head poked through the entrance. She’d brought a small flashlight with her, shining it directly on his face.

“Oh good, you’re here.”

“Turn that off. It’s not even dark out,” he said, shielding his eyes. The moon provided more than enough visibility without the city’s lights polluting the sky. Anya pouted, flicking the light off and tossing it inside his tent like she was about to get comfortable.

“I was hoping you’d chicken out on the midnight hike.” Anya zipped herself inside the tent. She must have gotten cold because she was now bundled in sweats that were a few sizes too large.

“I didn’t chicken out. It sounded like a stupid-what are you even doing here?” He asked.

“We need to talk.”

That was the last thing he wanted to do. “No way. What if someone hears us?”

“Everyone’s leaving the campsite.”

“Everyone?” He asked skeptically. She nodded. “Well, what if the teacher does a tent check or something?”

“I read his mind. He fully intends on ignoring everyone’s stupid antics all weekend.”

“I don’t know. Can’t we just wait til tomorrow?”

“You won’t talk to me tomorrow.”

She’s right. He won’t. “Fine. Just hurry, okay? I don’t want my first Tonitrus Bolt over this.”

Suddenly, her eyes were bright with anger. “Over me?”

“Huh? I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t say anything, Damian. That’s the problem.” Anya’s disbelieving scoff sent a chill up his spine. “You told me things were going to be fine. You promised you wouldn’t overthink.”

“I just need-”

“Time? Is three months not enough time? Because I’ve been giving you plenty of space to ‘process’ and you still won’t look me in the eyes. So if you’re planning on never talking to me again or you hate me now, just say it because that would be way easier than dealing with-”

“I don’t hate you.” Damian interrupted her, frustrated. “Anya, I can’t hate you. Don’t you get it? That’s the problem.”

She blew out an annoyed breath. “Then why won’t you just talk to me?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It could be. If you would just listen to what I-”

“It can’t be that easy.” Damian dragged a hand through his hair. “Everything’s all fucked now. It’s like every memory I have is wrong and fake and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Nothing was fake, Damian. That’s the most ridiculous-”

“You never wanted me. You never enjoyed being with me. It just eventually became a habit until we were friends.” He finally spits out his most dangerous thought. The worst fear. “It’s bull shit, Anya. This whole thing is bull shit.”

She held his gaze, both too stubborn to break eye contact. The wind rose, whistling eerily through the branches hanging high above his tent. Even with the wind the silence growing between them was deafening. He wondered if that was it. If he’d won.

If so, victory tasted disgusting.

“You know what’s bull shit?” she asked, eerily calm. “Whatever the hell this is,” she said, gesturing at all of him. “And you know what else? I don’t regret that mission, Damian. Not for a second.”

His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Why would you-”

“If it didn’t exist I wouldn’t have gone to Eden Academy. I wouldn’t have met you. I wouldn’t have spent years trying to decipher your thoughts. I wouldn’t have enjoyed annoying you or seeing you smile or making you laugh. I wouldn’t have met my best friend.” She took a deep breath before saying, “and I wouldn’t have fallen in love.”

Damian’s breath hitched. Their locked stare finally broke when she tightened her eyelids, her fists clenching. His brain must be playing tricks on him. He wanted to chastise his heart for its uncontrollable rhythm, pounding too loudly in his ear and making it difficult to focus.

“And you might not trust me anymore but that’s fine. I don’t care.” Her eyes sparked with determination when she met him again. “I don’t need you to love me back. I just don’t want you to act like everything we’ve done together was fake because you’re not an idiot. And that’s what’s bullshit.”

“Anya-”

“No. Shut up.” She sneered at him and he shrunk into his shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I trust you with my life and I love you so much it hurts. I don’t want to keep trying to picture a future where you’re not there because that future sucks. So just stop being a moron and talk to me again or I swear I’m going to-”

He reached for her hand. She paused abruptly, eyes turning to a mix of fear and hope.

She was right about one thing. Damian was a moron.

“I love you.”

Another silence befell the small space. Her eyes roamed his face, searching for hints of a lie he knew she wouldn’t find. For the first time since he discovered her secret, he didn’t care if she decided to peek into his mind.

“Anya, I…” He looked at their hands, hers felt so delicate in his although she was the strongest person he knew-inside and out. He gave it a squeeze. “I don’t even remember what it feels like to not be in love with you.”

She dropped to her knees, relief flooding her body. “Seriously?”

He nodded.

“You’re sure?”

“That’s the only thing I’ve ever been sure of.” When he finally looked up his heart filled with panic as her eyes began welling up. “Are you going to cry?”

“No,” she said, covering her face with her hands. Damian scooted closer. He’d obviously never confessed to someone before but he felt confident crying was a bad reaction.

“I’m so sorry, Anya.” He cupped her cheeks, rubbing his thumbs to wipe the trails slowly being left. “I overreacted and I should’ve talked to you because I can’t picture life without you either. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me so please forgive me, I didn’t mean to-”

“Shut up. They’re happy tears and you’re making them worse.” She sniffled, wiping at them furiously. She smiled up at him with an overwhelming fondness that enveloped his heart. It filled him with that warmth he’d been desperately craving. Nobody had ever looked at him like that, like they loved him.

She lightly pressed her forehead against his. Amongst the thousands of thoughts wrestling for attention one screamed the loudest.

Holy shit, he wanted to kiss her. Without the worry of interruption. No fear of it destroying their friendship or crossing any unspoken lines. Just finally lean down and kiss her. Now would be a good time right? Probably. His eyes were targeted at her lips as he debated any movement.

“Kiss me,” she whispered. Her eyes were watching impatiently. “Please.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Damian kissed her. Gently. Because he still wasn’t convinced that when he pulled away this whole night wouldn’t have been a figment of his imagination. Drawn up by his desperation to be wanted. That the pressure of her soft lips against his and the hesitant grip against the front of his sweatshirt wouldn’t disappear at any second. That the smell of campfire smoke still lingering on her clothes wasn’t just a dream, taunting him with how she smiled against his lips when he pulled her closer.

Whenever Damian stole peanuts from Anya he would get the embarrassing thoughts that those might be similar to what kissing her would taste like. Turns out it was. He realized peanuts might be his favorite snack now too.

He gave her a final squeeze before preparing himself for her to vanish, but when he opened his eyes she was there, out of breath and flushed. Her green eyes looked back with a newfound shyness he was beginning to enjoy. Her warm breaths fanned across his lips and he really wanted to kiss her again.

“I love you so much,” she whispered before nuzzling her nose against his. It broke him out of his kissing-obsessed stupor.

He opened his mouth, throat struggling. There were so many words fighting to get to her. Eleven years worth of emotions battling for control, years of feelings that she deserved to hear. After what felt like a century he choked out, “Anya, I really suck.”

She looked taken aback. When she began a counterargument he covered her mouth, he needed her to listen. “I’m not great at this expressing emotions stuff. And I’ll probably panic again,” he confessed. “But I’m going to get better. Because you deserve better and I… I want to be that. For you.”

Anya looked at him wide-eyed before they started to gloss over and he cupped her cheeks again. “Wait, don’t-”

She launched forward, wrapping her arms around his midsection and knocking him on his back. He landed roughly on the ground, thankful he’d laid out his sleeping bag somewhat before she’d forced her way in since his head didn’t hit solid ground. Anya sniffled against his chest and he immediately put a hand on her head.

“Please, stop crying,” Damian stressed.

“Then stop saying things like that,” she accused. “How can you say you’re bad at emotions than say something like that?” He stared at the mesh ceiling puzzled. What did he say? “You’re such an idiot.”

“Am I an idiot or did I do something good? You can’t flip-flop.” Damian pouted.

“Both,” she said, smiling up at him. “You’re amazing, Damian. I don’t want you to be anyone but yourself. I love you the way you are.”

He studied her carefully before shoving her head back on his chest. Damian had never experienced happy tears before but that night had been enough firsts for him-he had no interest in tacking happy crying in front of Anya to the list. She needed to stop talking before things headed in that direction.

He lazily ran his fingers through her hair and despite the rocks digging into Damian’s back he had never felt more comfortable in his life. He peeked an eye open when he felt Anya rummaging around for a blanket still shoved in his duffle bag. He should have been more concerned that he didn’t say anything when she covered them both and curled back up against him.

After he began nodding off was when Damian finally spoke up.

“You should probably leave,” he mumbled out, contradictingly tightening his arms around her, pulling her closer. He felt her tired giggle reverberate through his chest.

“Yeah, probably.”

She didn’t move. He didn’t make her.

The branch's tunes lulled him to sleep.

***

“Rise and shine, Loverboy. We don’t have all day.”

Damian jolted at a sharp jab to his cheek. His eyes drifted open as he slowly came to consciousness.

The sun had barely risen, peach hues struggling to light up the small space. Just enough for him to make out Blackbell crouched above with an annoyed look. Damian rubbed his eyes, hoping that removing the fog in his brain would rid the horror before him, as well.

It did not.

“What are you doing in my room?”

“Tent,” she corrected as if that made her presence less weird. “And I’m trying to collect Sleeping Beauty before the whole camp wakes up and an Eden Academy scandal breaks loose.”

He furrowed his brow, puzzled until there was shuffling in his peripheral vision. Anya was cuddled against his arm with her closed eyes barely seen above the blanket’s edge. His heart beat thunderously against his rib cage as the previous night’s events replayed in his mind. They confessed to each other. She knew how he felt and she was still here.

Anya actually loved him.

“Am I dreaming?” He asked Blackbell.

“Not this time, Romeo.”

Holy shit.

“You can make heart eyes at her later, Desmond.” Blackbell leaned over him and began pinching Anya’s cheek “I promised Anya I’d cover for her, but there’s no good excuse I can think of for why she’d be coming out of your tent in a few hours.”

Damian blinked. He could already picture the rumors their classmates would spread the moment they saw Anya’s bedhead leaving his designated one-person tent. How fast they would get around Eden Academy. And although the idea of his father being humiliated while speaking with professors, soon lecturing him about the disgrace he’d brought upon the Desmond name seemed a bit appealing, he wasn’t rebellious enough for it. Deep down he still hated disappointing his parents. At least when it could be easily avoided.

He glanced at Anya who pulled subconsciously on the blanket Blackbell was trying to tug off her. She had to go. He sat up, raising a brow in thought.

Damian placed his hands on Anya’s cheeks, hearing a small gasp from Blackbell before he smushed Anya’s cheeks around annoyingly. She groaned and started swatting at him.

“You’re not romantic at all,” Blackbell complained.

He blinked. “Huh?”

“Get off,” Anya whined, kicking him off. She rolled onto her side while he held his stomach in pain.

“What was that?” He asked in shock.

“She’s a heavy sleeper.”

“She’s mean.” Nothing like his dreams. “Anya, get out of my tent.”

“Don’t wanna,” she mumbled, pulling the blanket above her head.

“Too bad. We’re going to actually get in trouble this time.”

“You didn’t care last night,” her voice came muffled through the blanket. Blackbell shot him a devious look.

“That’s different,” he said, his face flushing a deep crimson. “I was half-asleep and you were saying weird things. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Anya peeked up at him. “Me loving you is weird now?”

Blackbell squeaked, which didn’t help as Damian fumbled for his words. “That’s not what I mean. It’s great. I just mean that I realized I don’t want to get in trouble. But I don’t take back anything else because that was all very-”

Anya stuck a hand out to cup his cheek. He locked eyes with hers. Viridian stared back calm and understanding, any stress washed away entirely as a small smile danced on her lips. “I get it,” she whispered. Then with exaggerated movements, she pushed herself up, turning to Blackbell and asking, “carry me?”

“No chance.”

“Wait,” Anya paused, once one socked foot was out of the tent. She regarded him almost concerningly. “We’ll talk later?”

“Of course.”

She sent a smile of relief.

“Let’s go,” Blackbell tugged her arm. “The sun’s almost up.”

The butterflies that had been loose in his stomach since Anya’d first entered his tent didn’t calm until his door was completely sealed. He let out a deep breath, finally allowing himself to relax. Although his body begged him to sleep for a few more hours, his mind had other plans. Too giddy to have been rid of the negative thoughts he’d been forcing upon it for months.

It raced with the memories of several hours prior. Of words he’d never believed could be spoken to him and how they sounded in the voice of someone he’d loved for so long. He probably had the exact moment burned into his memory from how many times he replayed it. And every time he thought about kissing her a dopey smile popped up, hoping he’d be allowed to do it more.

For the first time in a long time, Damian felt good. There wasn’t a weight on his chest crushing his lungs and making it impossible to breathe. He felt hopeful.

Eventually, there was enough commotion outside that he felt comfortable leaving the confines of his awkwardly warm space and joining whoever was awake. ‘Hopefully, Anya’ his brain conjured unwillingly the moment he exited his tent.

“Dude, why do you look so happy?” Ewen and Emile managed to find him mere seconds after he emerged.

He couldn’t explain his sleepover with Anya, so he simply shrugged it off. “Slept good, I guess.”

“In the tent? On the ground?” Emile questioned skeptically.

“Better than I thought it’d be.” His eyes swept the campgrounds for nothing in particular. “How was the haunted hike?”

“Shitty. I wish I would’ve stayed back,” Emile grumbled. “We got lost for hours.”

“Anya really hyped it up, then she backed out last second,” Ewen complained.

“I think she made the whole thing up to prank everyone.”

His eyebrow quirked. There’s no way Anya tricked the whole class into going on a fake hike just so they could have some privacy. He smirked, “yeah, sounds like something she’d do.”

“What are you smiling about?” Ewen asked.

“I’m not smiling.” He was.

“You are. You’re smiling.” Ewen pointed an accusatory finger at Damian’s face.

“I’m literally not.” He literally was.

“Now that I think about it. Where was Anya last night?” Emile tapped his chin. “There’s no way she went to bed.”

He wanted to scream that she had been with him. Rub it in everyone’s face that Anya snuck into his tent to tell him she was in love with him and then he kissed her. Instead, he shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m not her keeper.”

Ewen and Emile looked at each other, then looked back at him as if they didn’t believe his clear lie. “You didn’t see her at all last night?”

“Nope.”

“Not once?” Ewen asked. Damian shook his head. “You’re not lying?”

“When have I ever lied to-” Damian was interrupted by a force tackling his back, whoever it was wrapping their arms around his midsection.

“Good morning!” Anya said, poking her head around his side. Damian glanced down at her then at his friends. He gave an innocent smile.

“Hey, Anya. Damian was just telling us how he didn’t see or talk to you at all last night.”

She tilted her head, mulling that information over. “Yeah, can’t say I remember seeing him either. He went to bed pretty early.”

Their jaws went slack. “Wha-but you were both-and now you’re all-that doesn’t make any-”

“We made up.” Damian put it simply. His whole body froze when Anya grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together. Publicly. For just anyone to see.

“Yeah, we’re dating now.”

“You are!?”

“We are!?” Damian added.

She blinked. “We aren’t?”

“We didn’t clarify that.”

“I just assumed that was the next step.” Anya looked up thoughtfully. “I actually think people usually go on dates before kissing and falling in love, so we skipped a few steps.”

“You guys kissed?” Emile’s eyebrows shot up, a smirk forming.

“Anya, hush.” Damian waved for her to keep it down as a few people looked in their direction.

“Hush what? What’s wrong with kissing?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it it’s just-” Damian groaned, running a hand down his face. “Look, I just wasn’t sure you’d want to date.”

Anya cocked her head to the side confused. “I’m in love with you, Damian. Obviously, I want to date you.”

Damian furrowed his brow. Even if she loved him at that moment Anya may not fully understand what dating him meant. She would eventually have to go to the networking and fundraiser events his family dragged him to and old rich people may be assholes to her, even if she’s with him. Obviously, he wouldn’t stand for it but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t happen. And the whole political environment is awful in general, honestly dragging her into it might be cruel of him. He should probably explain it all to her before she agrees to any-

“Hey,” Anya snapped him out of his thoughts with a light pinch to his cheek. “Don’t overthink this time. I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes roamed hers, filled with that same fondness from last night. He nodded. “Okay.”

Her smile turned soft and he was consumed by that overwhelming feeling of affection again. Of truly being loved. It was almost painful how intense the warmth in his chest had become.

“Anya!” Blackbell called from a fire pit across the campsite. “Flirt with Desmond later. I want breakfast.”

“Coming!” She gave his hand a small squeeze. “Are you eating?”

He looked in distaste at the breakfast spread laid out for them. What looked to be materials for them to make pancakes were placed on various picnic tables with some cooking ware beside them. “No.”

“Did you eat dinner?”

He continued avoiding her eyes. “Yes.”

She gave him that look. “I’m making extra.”

“I won’t eat it.”

Her gaze sharpened before she wandered off toward Blackbell to begin cooking them both breakfast. Blackbell rested her head exhaustively against Anya’s back as she prepared the batter and Damian wanted to be annoyed at her for stealing Anya’s attention, but he owed the girl for saving his perfect school record.

“Well, congratulations dude.” Ewen clapped his shoulder.

“Took you long enough,” Emile added.

Anya’s soft smile focused intently on leveling a pan over the flames, his heart skipped. He knew he would end up choking down a few semi-burnt pancakes if Anya cooked them. “Yeah.”

A smile took over his face as he watched her. He felt peaceful, content. Like things might actually be okay.

Anya’s eyes slid in his direction, a soft smile spread on her lips when she saw him looking. He mirrored her look and gave a lame little wave. At her small giggle, he realized for the first time in his life he felt legitimately happy.

Damian finally felt loved.