Chapter Text
The very first step to the scientific method was the question. Unfortunately for the scion, he had MANY unanswered questions.
"Where could I even start?"
He was currently sitting in his usual spot to the right side of the classroom in between his two reliable friends (or “henchmen” to majority of the students in Cecile Hall) Ewen Egeburg and Emile Elman. Noticing their “boss-man” fidgeting with his hands, Ewen took a silent deep breath and hesitantly pointed at the source of his concern. "Uhm… boss-man, are you okay?." He expressed with a head tilt.
"Yeah boss, is it that filthy commoner again? I'm pretty sure that even if you were to wash your hands and take a shower, you can't get rid of her peasant germs!" Emile teased with a snicker.
All Damian could hear was muffled background conversations and his raging heartbeat. The only thing (or rather, person) he was focused on was Anya Forger, who was sitting several rows across from him.
"Can you really read my mind, Forger?"
With that, a head of familiar pink hair whipped around and there she was, staring directly at him with those cu- UGLY! snot green eyes. However, those who didn’t have a rose-tinted filter could tell she was shocked by something.
“What am I even asking?”
"No, of course you can't!" He quickly shut down. "This… This is just some coincidence!! You're a Desmond for crying out loud!" He gritted his teeth and glared down at the girl with all the resolve he could muster. "This is the same girl that went on about seeing octo-people on a luxury cruise! What makes you think that she can read minds??? It sounds like something ripped straight out of one of her stupid cartoons!" He reasoned with crossed arms; the grasp on his sleeves tightening with each passing second he spends on this unofficial staring contest.
A couple of minutes for the second son was only a couple of seconds for the young girl as she retaliated with an angry pout and snapped her head back to the chalkboard, relief washing over her as she broke eye contact.
"Tch. Whatever." He bickered under his breath as he released the death grip he had on his arms.
Why did he feel a tinge of disappointment?
"It was probably nothing." He shook his head and then turned his attention back to his friends.
"Do you need some hand-sanitizer, boss? It's okay I won't let you linger on those germs any longer!" Emile held out with a toothy grin.
"Yeah... sure." The scion finally answered with a quiet sigh; extending his cupped hand out to him.
A bulb went off.
"Wait!" Damian hovered his hands over his head.
"The scientific method!"
"Uhm-"
Emile, who had the bottle aggressively slapped away from his hands, watched as it flipped over towards the middle of the classroom floor and landed onto the ground with a loud smack, interrupting the entire class.
"MR. DESMOND!" snapped Mr.Henderson. "I appreciate that you are recalling our lesson from our science course. However, it’s inelegant to interrupt the class with irrelevant commentary." He looked at the boy disapprovingly while he adjusted his monocle.
Giggles erupted from the students in Cecile Hall and started enveloping the classroom walls. Meanwhile, Anya couldn't help but eavesdrop on her target's conversation. Afterall, why would sy-on boy blurt out something so left-field? What even was a “sy-on-fix-it method”? Her tiny head was baffled by a word so similar to sy-on boy’s name.
"I-I apologize, sir!" He sputtered, springing up from his seat and bowing his head. He then quickly sat himself back down with a raging blush on his face. Luckily for the poor scion, Mr. Henderson acknowledged him with a simple nod before proceeding with the class lecture.
"It's okay, Boss-man. I can help clean-"
"No." He curtly replied. "I mean... It's fine. I can clean it up." He clarified gently while keeping his head down. His pride was completely shattered and he felt an anchor pulling him down to his seat.
Ewen had already picked up on Damian's mood, and decided to not interject. Instead, the (not so) tall blonde patted his back a couple of times. "You're such a kind gentleman, bossman!" complimented Ewen as he kept his hand on the scion's right shoulder.
"Yeah! It's to be expected from our Desmond of course!" encouraged Emile with a sparkle in his mossy green eyes.
Anya smirked; a genius plan forming in her little 5 year-old head.
"Heh."
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Shortly after the second son's outburst, the lecture that Mr. Henderson wanted to get back into had come to a close and Cecile Hall was dismissed. It was the end of the day which meant everyone was eager to go back to their homes or dorms.
Not Anya though.
"Wait out here, Becky! Anya has a quick mission to do." Damian had overheard from outside the classroom door.
"Oh, great. What does that runt want now?" He pinched the bridge of his nose before he picked up some neatly folded paper towels that Mr. Henderson had already taken out for him.
"Sy-on boy!" She ran over to him with her arms spread out; like a bird ready to catch its prey. She then halted with her hands behind her back and flashed him a cheeky grin.
"...What?" He retorted, the dread of being around this girl already consuming him whole along with that familiar heat rising up to his cheeks.
"Anya can help you clean the hand-sandy-liar from the floor!" She excitedly offered as she turned to grab some paper towels from Henderson's desk.
"It's hand-sanitizer , Forger." He snobbishly corrected while rolling his eyes. "And don't even bother, stubby legs! You might do something stupid like slip on it." He scolded with furrowed brows, crouching down and lifting the sticky bottle off the ground with a paper towel.
"Sy-on boy cares about Anya?" She questioned innocently with a head tilt; her pupils dilating as the emeralds that guarded them sparkled.
"N-NO!!!" Damian squawked, accidentally dropping the hand-sanitizer again. Noticing his actions, he swiftly crouched back down to pick up the bottle and darted his eyes away from the pink-haired girl; his face engulfed in crimson flames. "D-Don't get it twisted, Forger!" He turned his head as he was sweating bullets. "I-I'm just making sure you don't make a bigger mess than there already is!" He spat out, stomping away and slamming the bottle into the trash.
“Sy-on boy is a liar.”
"It's okay! Anya will be careful!" She reassured as she crouched down and started wiping the hand sanitizer off the ground.
"I said don't even bot-!” He dug his nails into the palms of his hands. “Nevermind! Do whatever you want, shrimp! I don't care what you do!! just leave me alone!!!" He huffed with an accusatory finger. Anya swore she saw steam coming out of his ears.
"If you can really read my mind, Forger... then I'm gonna say thank you for helping out. Be grateful I even allowed you to help instead of Emile or Ewen you pest!" He thought as he snatched his belongings off his desk and bolted out the door.
Before Anya could fully extend her arm out to stop him, she froze as her pupils shrunk in horror, her face growing incredibly pale. “Sy-on boy… he used his mind to talk to Anya.”
As the scion ran, each step he took had a heavy weight to them and the butterflies that were trapped in his stomach were insistently flapping their wings, begging to come out.
“Damn it! I didn’t even stop to see her reaction!”
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After a few moments, Her knees gave out and she planted her hands onto the hardwood floor. "Not only did Anya's plan to go to his house fail, but she also feels sick!" She frowned as the tears started to build up. "And he left me alone to deal with his sandy mess." she added with defeat.
"Anya!" called out Becky as she stepped into the empty classroom.
In a panic, Anya wiped her tears away and sucked in all the temptations to shed a single tear.
"Wait... why are you cleaning up that brat’s spill?!” She scrunched her brows. “Stop it!" She demanded as she approached Anya.
"Oh.” Becky’s facial expression changed while she connected the dots.
“Wait, I see now..." her smirk grew.
"Is this your way of professing your love to him???" Becky concluded eagerly, bringing her hands to her mouth which had now manifested into a huge smile. “With acts of kindness???” she continued with awe, the apples of her cheeks turning pink.
"No, Anya was just-"
"Oh Anya!!!” She cooed. “I absolutely HATE Desmond’s guts but I'll support your choice in the path of LOVE !" She gushed as she hugged her best friend tightly, affectionately squishing her baby cheeks.
"But Becky, Anya's mission fa-"
"Come on! Let me walk you to your bus stop before it's too late! You can tell me all about it later!" She insisted as she stopped hugging Anya and stood up, holding out her hand.
"Okay..." Anya sheepishly took it and was pulled off the ground.
“You can trust me, Anya” She squeezed her hand. “Don’t you worry, I know everything about love!” She reassured her friend with a grin. “I promise!” she swore full-heartedly, skipping towards the bus stop as she swung their arms together.
“Becky is too noisy…” Anya winced. “But Anya is happy to have a friend like her.” She closed her eyes and gave her a warm smile.
“I’m glad she stopped crying. She made me worried sick!” Becky thought as she mirrored the smile right back.
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"Bossman, wait up!" called out Ewen as he chased after Damian with Emile.
"Yeah, what happened in there???" Emile shouted, trying to catch up with the two of them.
"Woah!" Damian abruptly stopped in his tracks and almost tripped on the cobblestone path.
Deciding to stop running here, he placed his hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath. "It's..." he struggled to speak as he breathed in. "...Nothing you two should worry about." He breathed out as he straightened his posture. "I already got it handled." He brushed the imaginary dirt off his uniform.
Finally catching up to the two, Emile faceplanted onto the grass.
"Emile!" Ewen panicked, crouching down and checking up on his friend.
He watched Emile slowly raise his head as he shakingly brought up his index finger. "Are you sure? Your face was re-"
"OH!" Ewen raised his voice over Emile as he made eye contact with Damian. "Good to hear, boss!" Ewen assisted Emile off the ground as he discreetly smacked the back of his head.
“Ow! What was that f-”
"We were just waiting for you to come out!" He eagerly projected his voice once again over Emile.
Damian couldn't help but stare at the two with a raised brow.
"Do you wanna come play some soccer with us now that we are outside!?" Ewen suddenly proposed, pointing at the lone soccer ball to the right side of the school grounds.
The poor boy was sweating.
"Uhm... you can help Emile wash his face. I'm going to go study inside the dorm." The second son finally answered as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Just... don't get hurt again, okay?" He muttered that last part, turning his heel towards the direction of the academy dormitories.
"You got it, boss!" accepted Emile with his signature grin “Don’t you worry about us!” he reassured with a thumbs up.
After they watched the brunette walking away towards the dorms, Ewen turned his head to face Emile.
"Hey sorry I-"
"Why did you cut me off, Ewen???" Emile took his turn now to jump on Ewen. “And why did you hit me?! That hurts you know!”
"Because if I let you finish talking, he would run away again! Now he left to go study!" Ewen argued as he extended his hand out to where the second son was. “And sorry for hitting your head, I kind of freaked out when you tried to talk.” he confessed with an awkward expression.
"Oh." Emile understood.
“He always studies but… this feels different! I don’t know why but it just does!” he gestured his hands as he struggled to put this new found realization into words.
Emile scratched his cheek nervously. "Yeah… I can feel it too." He reluctantly agreed with a subtle nod. "He's been acting weird since the dance." The chubby boy pointed out as he pressed his index finger onto his chin. "Man, dancing with Forger must have really messed him up!" He joked with a hearty laugh as he walked with Ewen to the boys' restroom.
"Hm... yeah, you are right." Ewen lingered on the thought. “It might just be her weird peasant girl cooties!” he playfully pulled the skin underneath his eye down, sticking out his tongue.
“Ewww!! Ewen!” Emile laughed as he wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “It’s okay though, we can help the boss-man fight off that shrimp’s cooties!” he encouraged with pumped fists.
“Yeah!”
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Locking the door behind him, he leaned against it and slowly slid down onto the floor. “Jeez… I don’t really understand this.” he murmured, hugging his knees close to his chest. “I barely even interacted with her.” he traced circles over his knee, afraid to voice out the entirety of his inner turmoil to the empty dorm room.
“I really do wonder if what she said to me was true… she looked serious when she said it too.” he bit the inside of his cheek as he pondered over the legitimacy of the moment they had together, his eyes traveling up the intricately decorated ceiling.
“But noooo! I had to mess it up!” he blamed himself as he frustratingly dug his hands into his hair. That was the only moment to talk to her without interruptions and he ran away, like always!
“Forger, you really are a mystery to not just Eden… but to me as well.” He slowly lowered his arms.
“What kind of silly thoughts do you have going on in that pretty head of yours?” a gentle smile formed as the thought of her soothed his frustrations.
The hazel in his eyes softened as the butterflies started consuming him.
“I can’t help it… you’re just so cu-”
“Wait! No!!” he slapped his cheeks, the clap being so loud it was bound to leave his skin with printed hand marks (not that it really mattered, his face was already red!).
“Stop saying stuff like that, Damian!” he harshly scolded.
“Get a grip!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he fought with those stupid butterflies again.
“That girl needs to pay for causing me so much stress!!!” he swiftly stood up, determined to fight with his inner qualms.
“I had enough of this! As a Desmond, I am going to put this to an end once and for all!” he boldly claimed as he marched to his desk with closed fists.
Oh. Did he say that out loud?
Upon realizing it was true, he pursed his lips and solely focused on taking out his science journal, hoping that the queasy feeling would just go away on its own.
“Okay.” he took a deep breath and opened the journal to a brand new page.
“I can’t believe I am doing this… but it has to be done.” He rubbed his arm as he tried to calm his nerves.
Bringing the pen over to his nimble fingers, he hovered over the top left of the page and began writing.
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THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD:
QUESTION: Can-
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Should he really write her name here? As much as he wanted to for the sake of having clear notes, his heart refused to do so. He decided it was better to be vague in case someone accidentally came across these notes. (not that he’s gonna keep them for future reference or anything…)
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THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD:
QUESTION: Can people read minds?
RESEARCH:
- They turn their heads to look at you when you think about them.
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The scion stopped to consider this first point. “I mean… she does tend to know when I am thinking about her.” his cheeks lit up just imagining it. “Does she possibly know everything about me? My test answers, my plans for the day, or…” his face grew warm.
“My darkest secrets?”
His pupils shrunk at the idea and he placed a hand on his chest. “I’m gonna have a heart attack!” he swallowed as he tried his best to compose himself, the pen in his pen almost snapping in half from the death grip he had on it.
“This girl will be the death of me, I swear! First, she is out here blurting nonsense and now she has me believing in it!” He gritted his teeth as he was about to throw his pen across the room.
“Relax, Damian! Maybe her powers don’t work like that! Maybe she has some flaws! I mean, she is pretty stupid for a 6 year old if she doesn’t take advantage of the darkest secrets of a Desmond.” he rationalized to himself, which he found to help tame his pounding heart. “Plus knowing that dim-wit, she would have confronted me about it already! She can’t keep her mouth shut.”
Taking a moment to close his eyes, he inhaled once again and slowly brought his arm back down. “Let’s focus on the next point.”
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THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD:
QUESTION: Can people read minds?
RESEARCH:
- They turn their heads to look at you when you think about them.
- They are really good at card games.
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“Yeah, I mean the first time we played Old Maid, she was unnaturally good at the game, as if… she was reading our minds.” He nodded as he recalled the experience.
“I think this is a very good point. Good job, Damian! You are doing so well! You even predicted it that day too!” He encouraged himself with a sparkle forming in his eyes. “Yeah, I know! I’m so smart! I am a Desmond after all. This is mere child’s play.” he praised as he fed into his ego, a prideful smirk growing onto his face.
“Next point!” he demanded as he eagerly moved his pen.
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THE SCIENTIFIC METHOD:
QUESTION: Can people read minds?
RESEARCH:
- They turn their heads to look at you when you think about them.
- They are really good at card games.
- They seem to know what you want them to say.
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His pen stopped moving after he was done writing the third point.
“This…”
His mind started slowly wandering off into a dream-like state. “She always knows when I’m nervous around her.” his eyes softened as he stared at what was written on the page. “Like whenever we were in the bus together with bombs on our necks...” he remembered with a cold sweat running down his back. That experience was extremely scary for not only him, but everyone else on that bus.
Yet she seemed to not show any fear; It was as if she knew everything would be okay.
“How much did you know, Forger?” his expression grew incredibly wary for the little girl. He couldn’t help but feel… sorry for her?
He shook his head from those thoughts and decided to confirm that this was also a valid point to make. “I’ll give that to you, Forger. At least you know how to make me feel better.” his cheeks held a rosy pink, just like her hair.
“Maybe you aren’t that bad afterall.” he muttered as he allowed the corners of his lips to tug upwards.
Just as he was about to continue writing, he heard the door knob twisting along with a set of jangling keys.
“OH NO!” His thoughts screeched in a panic.
“YOU WENT TOO FAR THIS TIME!”
He aggressively slammed his notebook shut and shoved it into a drawer on his desk, swapping it out for an algebra textbook.
“Hey bossman, how’s studying going?” Emile asked, peeking his head through the door with Ewen doing the same.
“O-Oh uhm… y-you know!” Damian’s voice cracked, trying his hardest to maintain his cool. “Great!” He gave them an awkward smile as he cleared his throat.
“J-Just reteaching myself the-”
He darted his eyes to the textbook and immediately back at the two boys who were now incredibly worried for their dear friend.
“The entire quadratic formula!” His smile forcibly grew as he propped his elbow on his desk and rested the palm of his hand on his cheek, trying to appear to be the “cool boss-man” his henchmen think of him to be.
“I- uh-” Ewen struggled to respond.
“Bossman, I think you are sick.” Emile answered bluntly.
“H-Huh?” Damian struggled to keep his fake smile.
Was it just him or did the room’s A/C turn off?
“Please rest up for the day. We can study together later.” Ewen stared down at the scion with a blank face.
“But-”
“No buts, Boss!” Emile grabbed his wrist and dragged him to his bed.
“We will take good care of you, don’t you worry!” Emile reassured Damian with dramatic imaginary tears.
“You fought diligently all on your own, but I think it’s time you let us help you!” Ewen cried out with the back of his hand over his forehead.
“W-W-W-WHAT?!”