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“Oh, if it isn’t-”
The words hitched in his throat, his air of arrogance dissolving into atoms the moment her gaze locked with his.
Anya Forger looked… bizarre today. Not that it was rare. But she was staring at him as if he was the most repulsive thing in the world, and that didn’t sit right with him, not when he hadn’t even said anything yet.
It was unsettling, so his hazel eyes went to her best friend instead. She was crossing his forearms behind the glowering girl, and Damian had never felt so alarmed and confused on a Monday morning.
As much as he didn’t want to rely on the Blackbell girl, Damian was smart enough to trust his instincts and comply with her hidden warning, as she was, in fact, Anya’s best friend, and if there was anyone who knew her more than anyone else, it was definitely her.
But his friends were very stubborn, their loyalties lie solely with the boy. And so they ignored the signals and went ahead, proud smirks already lacing across their lips. “Oho, if it isn’t our favorite commoner!”
“What’s with that look? You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”
The girl growled, an ominous aura surrounding her form.
“Scratch that, you look like you need a priest. Damn.”
Emile snickered. “Or food. The little puppy must be starving.”
Damian stayed behind the shadows, strangely uneasy.
“Ah, the woes of a peasant.”
“Easy there, Ewen. She looks like she's already got a lot on her plate.”
“Yeah,” She finally speaks, her voice dangerously low. “I have more than enough to fill the bowl on your head.”
Silence.
Anya’s glowering gaze was unmatched.
There was another snicker, but it was from Ewen this time. “Nah, the half-pint actually got you, Emile. You’ll have to step up your game, man.”
“Shut up, Ewen. You look like a croissant.”
The trio of boys gasped, absolutely horrified.
“C-Croissant?!” Damian and Emile backed up, smart enough to know that Ewen does not play when it comes to his hair. “Did you just insult my hair?!”
Anya stared down, unfazed. She wore her scowl confidently while the two boys took another precautionary step backward.
“How dare you! I’ll have you know that it took me months to perfect this hairdo! I even trained under a famous friseur!”
“Freezer?”
“It’s friseur!”
“Whatever, frozen croissant.”
“Frozen-! What’s with you?!”
Damian finally stepped forward just as his friend was turning bright red. “Now, now-” And his breath hitched in his throat the second time when Anya’s glowering gaze hardened just as he made an appearance.
He opens his mouth and her eyes narrowed, the crease between her brows more prominent than before. He immediately pressed his lips shut, terrified.
“A-Anya,” Becky intervened, placing a ginger hand on her shoulder. “We should get going, hmm?”
Anya let out a sharp breath through her nose before she grouchily followed Becky.
Damian’s tensed shoulders relaxed—something he hadn’t noticed until she was gone.
Damian sighed heavily. So I was right. It was that time of the month.
Becky was crossing her arms on her seat, just as defeated. She had explained the details to him—how Mr. Forger had apparently grounded her for a particular misconduct, preventing her from watching Spy Wars when it was at the thick of its climax, or how the stores around her place had run out of her favorite peanuts during that time, or how it all happened during her first day, her hormones amplifying her frustrations that it carried over the next day.
It didn’t even sound bad until Becky mentioned that Anya had skipped her hamburger steak dinner, and all the colors drained off Damian’s face. Because Anya would never skip her hamburger steak. It was Anya’s favorite meal.
Damian swiped his face from the forehead down to his chin. It wasn’t the first time that Anya had mood swings during her period, but it was never this bad. He was well aware of how she can be snappy around him, or extra violent, but that’s just it.
“How about you? Were you at least spared from this?”
“Oh, not at all. She wouldn’t even listen to me talking about the latest episode of Berlint in Love. ‘Why do you get to share your favorite drama when I can’t even watch mine’ she said.” She sighed. “It was a bummer, but at least it’s not as bad as yours.”
That felt like a brutal punch. “She wouldn’t even let me speak.”
“Not surprising. Girls are annoyed with their boyfriends the most during these times. That’s just how the world works.”
“How is that fair?!” He ignored the way his face reddened at the particular word.
“It isn’t. You either bear with it or do something about it.”
“Damn it,” He pouts for a few seconds before he adds, “I’m not her-”
“Save it, Desmond. I’m not in the mood either.”
He was in the middle of finding a way to appease the girl when the girl in question sauntered back into the classroom, all smiles and shimmers beside George Glooman of all people, who seemed to don the same aura.
Damian and Becky were stunned beyond recognition.
“I have never felt so understood in my life! Anya, you are something else.”
“This is the way of the miserable. Only we can understand each other.”
They were suddenly in tears, hands clasped together as they faced one another.
Oh, God. Damian and Becky thought simultaneously, suddenly listless.
George went to his corner with a bounce, face content while they dispersed. Anya was smiling delightedly until her eyes caught him, and Damian could only watch in disbelief at how her face contorted into that same glowering expression in a matter of milliseconds.
She stared blankly while he stood beside her seat, blocking her. Damian mustered all the courage and opened his mouth, only to shut them close in a tight line when her glare increased tenfold.
W-what did I even do?! His shoulder went rigid when she stomped a step forward, and he immediately cleared the way, even climbing a tread higher from her seat. She glided without acknowledging him and sat down.
Just as Damian thought he was clear of her unreasonable anger, her head whirled towards his way, the same scowl plastered on her features.
The intensity of her gaze was enough to drag himself back to his seat.
He intended to bear it all since he knew it would eventually end, but Anya was becoming way too chummy with George the whole day, all while being a menace towards him and his friends. And that’s when he found himself rushing to the dorms and to the telephone line, asking for a butler and demanding that someone get him those damned peanut packets.
“What do you want?” Anya grumbled while she shot Damian one of her coldest stares.
Damian pressed his lips together, peeking through the doorway with one eye while half of his body was hiding behind the frame, one hand propped up against the jamb and in front of his face. His other hand held three packets of peanuts in different flavors, original, cheese, and chocolate, her three most favorite.
It was a good start, he encouraged himself, since Anya actually spoke to him. So he took a precautionary step, and the creak of the floorboards felt like a landmine against the sole of his shoes with how Anya’s glare seemed to harden with every step.
He managed to stand beside her, his fearful eyes challenging her dangerous ones.
He opened his mouth, and she bared her teeth. Damian panicked, shielding himself with the packets like a coward.
The growling stopped. Damian peered over the metallic package, and he was stunned to see her revert to her relaxed state, eyeing the peanuts in his hold.
There were no words exchanged. He slowly handed over the treats as if he were feeding a famished wolf, wary of her next actions.
Anya gently takes them—places them on her table while she holds them. Silence ensued.
And then tears burst out of her eyes like a dam, all while retaining that blank expression. Damian was too confounded to even react, whipping his head from side to side and not knowing what to do.
To say that he was panicking was a huge understatement, especially when Anya started bawling her eyes out with a howl. “Finally!” She wails, jutting her chin up and staring at the ceiling with a waterfall of tears surging out of her eyes. “Someone who actually cares!”
“A-Anya, it’s just peanuts-”
“These are not just peanuts! They’re essentials!” She hollers. “They’re all out in every store! Even the small ones!”
“Anya-”
“I can’t even watch Spy Wars.” She finally spilled out. “And Papa’s hamburger steak had carrots in it I got upset.” So that’s why. Damian mused, looking sideways.
“I was so upset I even called Ewen a croissant.” That caught his attention. “I feel so bad.” That too, because he never thought she’d care about-
“Because I like croissants! I should have called him a blanched carrot or something.” Her refute to his assumptions was so sudden Damian almost let out a snort.
She was weeping while saying the silliest stuff, holding those three packets of peanuts as if they were her children, and they all look strange without context but despite the weirdness of it all, he found himself chuckling in amusement. He couldn’t help but find her outburst quite cute, and it’s not every day he gets to see Anya like this.
He lowered himself to her level, just enough to place his arms on her table.
“And Emile?”
“He’s got a bowl cut. I’m just being honest.”
“Becky?”
“She gets to watch her favorite show. That’s not fair!”
“George?”
“He’s a lone soul like me,” Damian didn’t like the way she sighed dreamily at that.
“What about me?”
Anya sniffed, calming down. She stared at him for a few seconds before speaking. “Where did you get these peanuts?”
“Somewhere,”
“Aren’t they out?”
“I have my ways,” I’d scour all of Ostania if I have to. Damian pouts. “So? Why are you so mad at me?”
“You just look really annoying today.” Anya deadpans.
Another punch in the gut.
Damian buried his head in his arms, groaning.
Girls are annoyed with their boyfriends the most during these times. He couldn’t help but think back on those words, and he held on to it for comfort despite having no correlation to his situation.
“I’m sorry.” She murmurs. “I can make it up to you if you want.”
“And how will you be doing that?” Damian said grouchily.
Anya stared at her peanuts, then at him, then back at her peanuts, then back at him. She blinked twice before dropping the bomb.
“Um, do you want to be my boyfriend?”
There was silence. Becky, Emile, and Ewen looked straight back at him with those dead eyes.
And then came a roar of laughter. Emile was rolling off the couch while Ewen doubled over, their cackles synchronizing. Becky was kicking her feet against the sofa skirt while she held her abdomen, one finger pointing at him.
“T-that’s so lame!” Becky chortles. “No wonder you kept that secret all these years! You didn’t even get to confess!”
“Shut up!” Damian shouted, flushed.
“Anya wouldn’t even tell me the details! Now, I understand.”
“Damian told me not to tell anyone,” Anya said blankly, confused.
“Now, now, let’s not judge Damian. That was ten years ago, after all.” Ewen bit his lip as he rubbed his chest to soothe himself. He stared expectantly at the pink-haired girl then. “So Anya, how about you tell us how he proposed, instead? M-maybe it’ll redeem him.”
Anya blinks, looking at her husband before dropping the bomb. “He gave me five packets of peanuts.”
Ewen joined Emile on the ground, barking hysterically along with him. Becky reclined on the couch, struggling to breathe with her champagne ignored.
“You imbeciles! There’s obviously a reason behind that!” Damian shouted yet again.
“Let me guess,” Emile pops out from the ground. “The limited-edition Bondman and Princess Honey flavors.”
The silence was loud. That’s all it takes for his two friends to roll across the parquet of their living room while Becky chugged her drink to muffle any more of her laughter.
“Oh, my dear Anya! You don’t deserve such a lame proposal-” Becky snorted. “But you get to witness Damian’s lame side, so I guess it’s worth it. I’ll let it slide this once.”
Damian squirmed, biting his lip while heat flooded his already crimson face.
Anya pats him on his back. “I know the full story, don’t worry.” She flashed him her troll face. “It was romantic to me.”
“I don’t really need that tonight.” He said softly with a small pout, warmth engulfing him despite the complaint.
He was touched by those mere words, and he wanted to show it really, but the way the laughter from their visitors reverberated around their mansion was just too much that embarrassment had overruled, and he was left defeated.
Damian massaged his temples. Maybe he shouldn’t have told them the story, after all.