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Damian observed the mistletoe hanging over their heads for several seconds, feeling his cheeks heat up despite the cold weather. He knew what that meant, and he cleared his throat, willing to fulfill what tradition dictated as if it were a sacrifice because (according to him) he wasn't excited, nervous, and anxious.
"An..." he began to speak, his voice barely audible, while his eyes lowered to rest on Anya, who was by his side, or rather, who had been there a few seconds ago, the girl was already moving away. "Shorty!" he exclaimed louder, grabbing her arm and pulling her under the mistletoe. "Where are you going?"
"To class," she answered simply while her big green eyes watched him innocently, leaving Damian feeling like a fool. No, she was the fool if she didn't know what had to be done. He told himself.
Damian was still holding her arm, trembling with embarrassment. He couldn't believe he had to explain it to her. It seemed like he was begging, and Desmonds don't beg.
"Don't you realize what's up there?" he asked, finally letting her go.
Anya looked up to where he was pointing and nodded.
"It's a plant," she responded.
"Yes, but do you know what plant it is?"
Anya looked at him, waiting to read the answer in Damian's thoughts.
"It's mistletoe," she answered when she succeeded.
"And do you know what you have to do now?"
Anya looked at him again, waiting to read the solution back in his thoughts. Until more time passed than the boy could handle, he began to get impatient, and many thoughts about the situation began to arise in his mind. Why doesn't she say anything? Doesn't she know? Or does she know what needs to be done and doesn't want to do it? How dare she reject me! As if I wanted to kiss her! Two people meet under the mistletoe and must kiss. It's tradition!
Damian looked at her and saw her mischievous smile, which made him even more nervous and flushed, his cheeks, ears, and neck turning red. Why is she looking at me like that? he wondered. Does she think I want to? I don't want to kiss her, it's tradition, but a Desmond fulfills traditions. That's it! It's not because I want a kiss from her or anything like that.
Despite his internal monologue, his eyes drifted to Anya's lips. However, at that moment, Damian abruptly turned his gaze away.
"A Desmond doesn't chicken out and, above all, fulfills traditions. So I'll do it!" he thought resolutely. But barely a second had passed when another thought invaded him. And if she hits me? Better tell her...
As he struggled with his internal thoughts to come to an agreement, Damian turned even redder because before he could say anything, Anya approached him, and with her small, soft, and delicate pink lips, she planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Tradition fulfilled," she said with a smile, and without waiting for any reaction from Damian, she headed to class.
Damian, deeply flushed and with his heart beating rapidly against his chest, remained motionless for several seconds before bringing his palm to his cheek, before setting off to walk to his class with a smile drawn on his lips.