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The end-of-term gala at Eden Academy is no less grand and formal than any other high society events, with no corners cut even though the participants are just students. After all, all these students will become the dignitaries in the future, and they will spend their whole lives socializing in such elegant and well-dressed occasions. The end-of-term gala is not only a rehearsal for what's to come but also a social battlefield extending from the grown-ups world to the students. Rather than an arena for romance, the scene of dance invitation is more like a political battle for connections.
The dark-haired youth standing in the corner casually looks at other students busy inviting partners with a languid expression of unconcern. He doesn’t need to lower himself, others will come to approach and please him on their own. Even among these youth with distinguished birth, Damian Desmond still is one of the most exalted people. As the second son of president of the largest party, he is accustomed to being the center of attention. The reason he isn't surrounded by girls inviting him to dance is that after years of failed experience, most of them won't bother to try anymore. Moreover, everyone can see that petite girl standing beside him.
The prelude to the music signals the upcoming of the dance. Damian gracefully extends his hand to the girl. "After the training few days ago, I wish you won’t step on my feet again."
The girl gently placed her hand on his, not forgetting to giving him an annoyed glare. "That was just a miss. A little miss won’t affect my elegant dancing skills at all."
"Elegant? You mean compares to you in first grade?"
“No!”
"Well, you know, you're indeed better than back then. It was a total mess. I have to admire my past self for being able to cooperate with you."
The girl sneers as her hand puts on his shoulder. “Your sweaty hands made my palms totally wet. It is I who have to admire my past self for being able to cooperate with you. Anya was super kind that I didn't go around publicizing how nervous and still Desmond family’s second son was when he danced with girls.”
His face turns red. The hand on her waist can't help but exert force. “Shut up! You were obviously nervous too! It was like you were about to faint!”
***
The delayed dance was finally about to begin, and the children in elegant attire gradually took their places in the ballroom. The little girl and little boy, who bickered whenever they met, uncharacteristically said nothing when they held hands. The dark-haired boy tried hard to control his facial expression to remain normal, but still couldn't control his face from becoming as red as fire. Sweat visibly beaded on his forehead. The bun-hairstyled girl was not much better, her face pale, and her body stiff with goosebumps visible on her skin. Even though both of them looked like they could not hold on anymore, they still persisted. It looked like some kind of strange endurance competition, and both participants insisted on not conceding defeat.
“Hey! Don’t step on my foot!” Damian yelled in displeasure as his left foot hurt. His usual calm and polite demeanor had already gone.
The first time formally taking the floor made the already nervous girl scramble more and had no time to pay attention to this. “I didn’t mean to!”
“If ‘I didn’t mean to’ solved anything, then we wouldn’t need cops!”
“Just shut up and dance!”
“No, you shut up and dance!”
The loud bickering between the two drew stares from all around. The ponytail teacher gracefully slid next to them with his partner. “The dance floor is a place for elegance, you two. Your paths to Imperial Scholar seem to be long ones indeed.”
“Urk!” Damian remembered his manners as a gentleman and calmed down a little. He did his best to ignore the small hand in his. Thinking that he was the smarter and more mature of the two, he forced himself to focus on leading the dance. “That’s do this right!”
Starting to get into the swing of things, Anya nodded.”Okey dokey!”
As the music tempo changed, they clasped their hands and began to step seriously with a serious look. The steps were still a little messy, but it finally looked a bit decent.
A waiter observed in the distance for a while. Finally, he turned to leave with a light smile.
***
The beautiful melody of the cello echoes softly in the room as the two twirl elegantly, the black skirt sways slightly with the rhythm. His eyes linger involuntarily on her bare shoulders and arms, smooth skin without any goosebumps.
Sensing her questioning look, he straightens the raised corners of his mouth and coughs lightly.
“I’m really surprised. You dance much better than few days ago.”
"Of course, I've been practicing hard with father these past few days."
A hint of displeasure appeared on the boy’s languorous face. “You bothered him with this even he is that busy? Besides, wouldn't it be better to practice with your formal dance partner?”
"Well, you've been busy these days. Don't be that petty, petty-minded men aren't popular."
"I'm not being petty! I'm just being practical!"
"You also practice with a dance instructor."
"He's professional."
"Father is professional too. And he's also very passionate."
"That's true." No matter how reluctant, he has to admit to the gentleman's skills and enthusiasm. “He is as passionate as ever."
"Indeed."
The cello sang a long, low note, its beauty tinged with a touch of melancholy. The crystal refracted the flickering candlelight, bathing the sudden silence between them in a warm glow, like sunlight on the fluffy fur of a dog in childhood memories.
Damian's drooping eyelids curved into a gentle arc as his voice fell as softly as a sigh.
"Your family is still as always." Damien softens his expression. His languid downturned eyes suddenly become gentle. "That's nice."
She stares at the gentle smile he has never shown in front of others, not replying.
***
“See? If you actually try, you can do this.” Watching the girl's clumsy but decent dance steps, Damian, who usually loved to tease her, commented. Still he insisted on adding, “Not well, but still.”
Anya didn’t retort. “Papa made me practice with him a lot.” Thinking of Papa's devilish training, she almost felt scared. But the training did pay off.
The boy had met her father once. Unlike his original imagination, the handsome young gentleman was so polite and well mannered that he couldn't imagine how her father had managed to raise his daughter to be such a vulgar, impolite and inexplicable stupid girl in front of him. But if that man had been her instructor, the results Anya displayed wouldn't surprise him so much. He seemed to be able to dance in a standard and elegant manner. In terms of skill alone, he wouldn't be a bad teacher. At least he must have invested a lot of time and effort in training this idiot to dance at an acceptable level.
“He did seem like a passionate guy.” Damian remembered the conversation between his father and hers. He remembered him mentioning that even if he didn't understand his daughter, he still tried to.
“He’s very passionate.” Anya said, with a hint of happiness in her tone. It was a tone Damian knew well, one she often used when she talked about her mother and father, rambling on how three of them took walks, had meals, did the homework together. Her daily life always naturally involved the presence and care of her family. Not like him.
At least, he had never been taught social dance by his father.
“I was… taught by a dance instructor that my family hired.” he said softly. “Your family…sounds nice.”
The girl looked at him with her big eyes, so clear as if they could reflect everything.
He suddenly realized what he had just blurted out.
***
The scent of various perfumes wafts through the air, soft chatter of the crowd and the graceful music intertwine into an ordinary banquet scene. The sequins on the gown shimmer discreetly in gold under the lights. The ribbons in hair flutter in air with the rhythm. The girl in front of him steps silently in a pace that is still not excellent. No matter how hard she tries to imitate, Anya Forger just look different. This has nothing to do with her lack of noble origin. After meeting other commoner Eden students, he is sure it’s purely because she is just an inexplicable person. She does strange things all the time, sometimes playing stupid tricks and telling clumsy lies that anyone can easily see through; sometimes saying unexpected things and acting in mysterious ways; sometimes just saying nothing at all and silent with a marvelous look on her face, leaving others unable to fathom her heart.
It’s quite unfair. Only she knows everything.
As the tune shifts, Anya throws herself lightly out of the boy’s embrace and spins in a half circle, making the skirt become a slightly blooming flower. Damien stares at the girl's face, his eyes flashing with inscrutable complexity. With a firm tug of his left hand, she is suddenly pulled back into his arm.
"Hey."
Holding her waist with right hand, he looks down at Anya in his arm, a shadow casting over her face. Smile fading, Damian looks straight into those round green eyes. His voice is lower than usual.
“Why you told me then?”
On the darken backlight face, only those eyes seem to be shining. The downturned corners of his eyes usually give him a casual look. When facing others, he always puts on the Desmond airs as if he’s indifferent to everything. But in her eyes, his eyes are always earnest.
She looks up and straight back into the probing hazel eyes, just like she did then.
No need to read his mind, she knows what he’s asking.
***
He always yearned for his papa's attention.
He tried to do his best in everything he did, studying hard to get the best grades on his exams, practicing relentlessly for sports competitions to win, working hard to produce the best artwork for a gold medal. He collected stars with all his effort in order to become the Imperial Scholar. So that one day, his papa would turn around recognize his achievements, patting on his head, praising, “Well done. You are the pride of the Desmonds.”
But he never got it.
He pretended not to care, pretended not to be disappointed, pretended not to be upset. But she knew it all. He never said it, but she could hear the words he didn't say.
Occasionally, he reminded Anya of her former self, dressing in dirty cloth, holding her only doll, staring at the high door, waiting for the possible visitors. Then, her papa appeared. She pretended to be six years old, pretend to be tall, pretend to be smart, to make him take her home. She studied hard, helped papa finishing the missions, tried to be a good child, tried to make herself useful.
Look at me. Praise me. Pat my head. Stay with me. Don't go.
Don't leave me behind.
It's really strange. He clearly was a noble young master, but sometimes she felt like he's similar to Anya.
“Which person does Damian love best?”
Why they all answered it wrong? The question was so simple.
She could know the correct answer even without reading mind.
“His papa.”
He looked at her in astonishment, as if he suddenly realized she knew what he thought.
He had been annoying from the first time they'd met. He always put on an irritating face, mocking her as a short-legged, stupid, ugly, a commoner with no money and low-class, acting like he and his family were the greatest. He was angry with her all the time, either being mean to or scolding her. What he thought was always different from what he said. He was always pretending, pretending to be tough, pretending to be unafraid, pretending not to like, pretending not to want.
But now, for the first time, he actually said it.
For the first time, he smiled like this.
***
"I don't know."
She squeezes his hand.
"I just wanted to tell you."
He looks at his own figure in her green eyes, as clear as the reflection on the lake.
Of all the eyes surrounding him, only these eyes truly see him. Only these eyes never avoid and look straight into his eyes, as if they want to see through, as if everything is understood, as if nothing is hidden.
His hazel eyes finally close. He pulls her up and gently presses his forehead against hers.
"Yeah."
No need to read minds, he knows her heart.
No need to read minds, she knows he knows her heart.
Disordered breath sprays onto her face. He giggles.
So she giggles too.
***
We are the same. I know your heart.
So you can speak your mind, it’s ok.
***
“Er…not! You’re so poor you had to learn from your parents! I learned from a pro! I totally win!” The boy threw her out of his arms and spun her around, trying to change the subject. “How did you know about my dog and the pond anyway? What, did you read my mind or something?”
She turned back into his embrace. When leaning back, she was dizzy as if she was falling. But she felt the arm supporting her steadily from behind.
She saw herself clearly in those hazel eyes.
“Yes, I can read people’s mind.”
Fin