#bc of course | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

missusk · 2 years

Text

Like a Kadupul Flower (Spy x Family, Damianya)

Summary: Papa said that the Kadupul Flower is the only truly priceless flower since no one’s ever been able to pick it and sell it. It blooms for barely a few hours, only in the cover of darkness, and wilts just before dawn. Maybe that’s what Sy-on boy reminded her of.

Word Count: 10,207 Warnings: some bullying Author’s Note: I just love them a lot 😔 First time in a long time that I've written anything, and first time writing for Spy x Family my beloved!! Thanks for reading 💖

Read here on Ao3

“Who would give her a Spring Flower?”

“I bet she bought it for herself and just said it was from a secret admirer.”

“She’s probably going to eat it or something.”

Quiet snickers echoed throughout the classroom and in Anya’s mind as she stared at the pink rose on her desk. Delicate petals hugged one another, gently curling into the center as she turned it in her fingers. The thorns had been cut down, but she could still feel the ridge of one as she outlined its deep green edge with her fingernail. It was probably the smallest flower of the bouquet the student council kid brought, but here it was nonetheless, with a white-laced ribbon and a gold-lettered card addressed to her.

“Don’t listen to them, Anya,” Becky said, tossing a long, silky pigtail over her shoulder and shooting a glare at the snickering students. “Did no one actually sign the card? Who do you think it’s from?”

“I dunno,” was all Anya could say, brow furrowing as she read the card yet again. The same letters stared back at her, not having changed despite being looked at for the umpteenth time. Guess she couldn’t read the mind of handwriting, as much as she wished she could, as the letters in ‘To Anya Forger’ weren’t revealing anything groundbreaking. She pursed her lips and scanned the thoughts of the students around her, wondering if she could find a staticky glimpse of information. They all seemed as confused as she was:

She got a flower and I didn’t?! I better get one next period.

The Spring Flowers were delivered today?! Did I remember to get one for my girlfriend?!

I wonder if she really is going to eat it. I wonder how it would taste.

Wait, I didn’t put my name on the card, did I?

Anya’s head whipped around, trying to catch who that last panicked thought belonged to. Who was that? There were too many babbling mouths and babbling minds to find the culprit, and unfortunately Becky’s thoughts beside her were making it hard to focus.

Poor Anya, the first time she ever gets a Spring Flower is in high school and the person didn’t care enough to sign the card! Just because I got six doesn’t mean I shouldn’t still try to be excited for her!

Anya resisted the urge to chuckle and roll her eyes, as Becky’s mental decision was unfounded, given that she probably cared more about this flower than Anya did. This was the first time she got one, and she really couldn’t care less if it was the last. Maybe she could give it to Mama when she got home.

“Ooh, I bet it’s a secret admirer!” Becky squealed, brown eyes sparkling as she gripped Anya’s sleeve. “Maybe it’s an upperclassman!”

“I don’t know any upperclassmen,” Anya replied. “Maybe Papa or Mama bought it.”

“Only students can buy Spring Flowers,” Becky corrected.

Mama probably didn’t do it, but she wouldn’t put it past Papa to have somehow bought her a flower, Anya thought distractedly. Maybe she could bring it up then read his mind when she got home tonight.

“Someone definitely likes you,” Becky continued, bringing Anya’s focus to the present. “Probably thinks you’re cute and interesting! You should try to figure out who it is!”

“You sure you didn’t buy it for her, Blackbell? Seeing as everyone is out of her league, I wouldn’t be surprised if you felt bad for her,” chided a girl sitting a few rows back. The girls beside her snickered, twirling their hair around their fingers and tapping their own roses on the table. The stems hit the wood like a gavel, as if that statement was some final judgement. “What a waste of money.”

“Shut up,” Becky snapped quickly. “At least I don’t have to buy my friends, unlike some people.”

“Forger is probably worth less than my dog food,” the girl taunted.

“You eat dog food?” Anya asked.

“No, like, my dog’s food-” she stuttered, glaring daggers at Anya. She then turned to Damian across the aisleway, letting her hair drape down like a gossamer veil as her tone turned sultry. “Right Damian? Someone probably got it for her as a joke, wouldn’t you think?”

Damian had been sitting silently since the flowers had been handed out, chin on his fist, leafing through his history textbook. While he basically got half the bouquet the student council kid brought in, he didn’t seem to have bothered reading any of the cards.

“What would anyone gain from that?” Damian responded coldly, not bothering to look up from his textbook. “You really think so lowly of your classmates? I suppose not everyone bothers to pay attention in our etiquette classes. Sometimes I forget how immature some of you still are.”

“N-no, I just meant that, like-” the girl stammered, shame flushing red in her cheeks.

“It’s a stupid tradition anyway,” Damian continued, turning the page of his book. “It’s a pointless popularity contest to see who’s willing to dole out the most money. The only good thing about it is that the money supports charities, but I don’t see why we can’t just donate directly.”

“Funny coming from the guy with the most flowers,” Becky grunted with a roll of her eyes. “And the guy who liked being called 'Master Damian' until just last year. But anyway,” she continued, turning back with a smile, tapping at the flower in Anya’s hands with her index finger. “I still think it’s exciting. Who would you want it to be from?”

Anya chewed on her lip, reading the card yet again as if somehow it would reveal more information just by staring at it. Papa would probably figure this out quickly. Her thoughts were consumed by what spy tools she could sneak from his room, so she didn’t notice how Damian discreetly leaned forward, straining to hear.

“Bondman,” Anya said.

In came their professor, so Anya also didn’t notice how Damian deflated into his chair, plopping his head on his fist. Talk of flowers and secret admirers finally subsided, and talk of Ostanian history began.

Class came and went with barely any notetaking (thought it wasn’t just Anya shirking her scholarly duties this time), as thoughts all swirled around the Spring Flower distribution. The hallways were filled with pink roses and pink cheeks as Anya and Becky made their way to their lockers, sidestepping around the excited, chattering students of Eden Academy.

“You’re still coming to my party this weekend, right Anya?” Becky asked as she neatly set her books in her perfume-spritzed locker. Anya tried to shove hers in her own locker, but had to crumple a few peanut wrappers into tighter balls to get them to fit. She shoved the rose in too. “Everyone is going to be there, but I want to make sure you come too.”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” Anya replied. There’d be her best friend, good food, and Becky had a pool, so she’d probably have fun.

Suddenly the familiar mantra of ‘befriend Sy-on boy, save the world’ repeated in her head like a skipping soundtrack as Damian walked by with his friends. She was planning to go already, but now she had yet another reason to attend Becky’s party.

“Are you coming to Becky’s party, Sy-on boy?”

“What?” Damian sneered, stopping suddenly beside them. A couple petals fell from the dozens of flowers taking up space in his arms. “What party?”

“Becky’s party.”

“Why would I want to do that.”

“Everyone’s going to be there,” Anya repeated, mimicking Becky’s earlier cadence.

“So?”

“Anya,” Becky grunted suddenly, tugging on Anya’s sleeve as she leaned in to whisper. “I didn’t invite them. They like, suck, remember?”

“I want him to come,” she whispered in return, though Damian, Emile, and Ewen could all easily hear their conversation, given that Anya’s hand was covering the wrong side of her mouth. Before Becky could protest, Anya snatched an invitation from her friend’s locker and shoved it at Damian’s chest. Their fingers brushed as he tried to catch it from falling, while also trying to keep his armful of roses from falling. He immediately yanked his hand away, turning his gaze to the side.

…She wants me to be there? came Damian’s thoughts, strangely meek compared to the sneer he had on his face. Does she really want me to come badly enough to ignore the host? …She just wants me there…?

“I guess you guys can come too,” Anya said robotically to Ewen and Emile. Maybe that would encourage Sy-on boy to come. “You can bring those girls from class too, Becky can get dog food for that one girl.”

“Wh-whatever,” Damian grunted, his cheeks as pink as the roses in his arms. Despite their beauty, he seemed to be holding the party invitation even more carefully than the roses. “If I have nothing better to do maybe I’ll consider it.”

Still as cool as ever, even with so many women fawning over him! came thoughts from Emile.

An armful of roses and a party invitation? Boss-man really is the man!

Their puppy-like thoughts faded as the three of them walked to their lockers down the hallway, discussing weekend plans and their chemistry test later. Anya smirked and pat herself on the back, wondering how Papa would reward her for saving the world. Maybe she could get another dog. Or maybe a bag of peanuts.

“Oh Anya,” Becky sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and pulling Anya from her thoughts. “You can’t just invite people to someone else’s party.”

“I thought you wanted everyone there?”

“Yeah but-” Becky started. She stopped midsentence, her lip-glossed lips hanging open for half a second before curling into a wide grin. “Wait! You want Damian to be there?!”

She was pretty sure that’s what she just said, but Anya just smiled and nodded as her mind wandered to what she’d have for lunch.

“Okay, you’re coming over early then!” Becky squealed, grabbing Anya’s arm. “I’ll help with your clothes and makeup so you’ll be perfect for when you finally confess your feelings! It’s only taken since first grade, but you’re finally coming to your senses!”

Confess feelings about what? Lunch? Before she could retort, Becky was pulling her along to the cafeteria, babbling away about flowers and clothes and confessions.

---

“Are you sure this is a shirt? My tummy is showing.”

“Yes that’s the point Anya,” Becky replied absentmindedly, stepping around her friend to evaluate her work. “It’s a crop top.”

“Mm,” was all Anya grunted.

She stood on a circular pink pedestal in Becky’s room, arms outstretched as Becky poked and prodded at her. She’d rather be flopped out on Becky’s huge canopy bed, especially since the bed was almost as big as Anya’s entire room, but instead she blew her hair out of her face as Becky inspected the cloth. It seemed more like a big green napkin than a shirt, but Becky said she could still run and jump around in it if she wanted to without anything popping out. And, it was ‘stylish.’ The shorts were a little more what she was used to, at least, as were the thigh-high socks.

“So anyway, I got one from Theodore Russell and Will Howard from Specter Hall, one from Johnny in Wald Hall, then one from Connor, Edward, and Herman in our class,” Becky continued, listing the names of the boys who gifted her the six Spring Flowers that were now in a vase on her nightstand. “I had to let them all down easy, but the roses look nice in my room, don’t you think?”

“Mm,” Anya grunted again. The boots Becky let her borrow took some getting used to since they went over her knees, but Becky said that she couldn’t take them off because they made her legs look longer. If that’s what made her friend happy, then whatever. She could also finally use Mama’s training of how to run in heels, so Anya didn’t complain.

“You haven’t bothered trying to figure out who bought you your flower,” Becky continued, having approved of Anya’s outfit. “Do you even like boys, Anya?”

A shock of fear pulsed through her, finally honing Anya into their conversation as panic dripped down her veins like ice water. Her eyes, wide with fear, latched to Becky’s. She knew that question. She knew where it was leading.

She wasn’t…

She wasn’t going to give her… the talk… was she…?

The last time that happened, Mama drank two bottles of wine beforehand and blasted a hole in the wall, so Papa ended up doing it, which was even worse. She’ll never rid herself of those images and diagrams that were in his head…

She shuddered at the memory.

“You didn’t seem that excited about the flower you got yesterday,” Becky continued, pulling her from her thoughts. Anya tried to be discreet in exhaling a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to deal with more euphemisms about loaded guns and the ‘protection’ of bullet proof vests. “So, I wasn’t sure if you even cared about relationships or stuff like that? You’ve never really talked about it or dated anyone.”

“I don’t know, I guess I’ve just never thought about it,” Anya said, stepping down from the pink pedestal. Who has time for boys when she’s helping Papa save the world? Boys and romance and all that was Becky’s thing anyways, always had been.

Becky squinted at her, brows furrowing. Something was calculating behind her gaze, though it was nothing Anya could comprehend.

“What?” Anya asked, fiddling with the bow on her shirt.

“Then why did you invite Damian to the party?”

Anya paused, fingers still grazing lightly over her skin as she felt along the hem of her shirt.

For world peace, of course, but Anya very well couldn’t say that out loud. While she was relatively outspoken with her thoughts, knowledge of Papa’s mission was a secret Anya kept close to her chest. If Papa knew she knew about the mission, then he’d know about her powers, then he’d think she was a freak and never talk to her again. And, since Becky still had that weird crush on her dad, that information could get back to him easily enough…

Okay, think of some other reason as to why she’d want Sy-on boy to come.

She… wanted to ask him about homework.

No, Anya didn’t do homework.

She… wanted him to invite her to his house next.

No, wait, that was part of the original mission.

She… really loved Emile’s bowl cut and couldn’t figure out how to tell him.

No, she’d already used that excuse before.

Becky was staring at her hard enough that beads of sweat started to prick at the back of Anya’s neck. She was grasping for straws as she tried to answer this question, and Becky’s thoughts of ‘What’s taking her so long’ weren’t helping.

She had to give some excuse to Becky as to why she’d bother inviting Sy-on boy without compromising the details of her mission.

“I, uh,” Anya stammered, eyes flicking around the room for any kind of salvation. Canopy bed? No. Char-cute-er-rey board? No. Volume four of 'Lover Lover Oh My Lover: Lovers in Loveland'? No. Her gaze landed on a vase that held Becky’s Spring Flower gifts from their poor, rejected classmates. “I wanted to have everyone here so I could figure out who got me that flower.”

“You didn’t need to have him here to ask him that,” Becky pressed as she leaned closer, her steely gaze seeming to cut straight through Anya.

“O-okay, I, uh,” Anya coughed out, eyes flicking around for more help.

“Is that flower really why you wanted Damian to come?”

Is Papa’s mission really why she wanted Damian to come? Becky’s words changed and rearranged themselves in Anya’s head without her permission, so much so that her heart jumped.

“So if you don’t know who it’s from, then what’s your type?” Becky pushed. Was she part of the secret police? Anya sure was sweating a lot. “What kind of guy would you want to have given you that flower?”

“T-tall, uh, blonde,” Anya spat out, describing the first man that came to mind. “Fights… bad guys…”

“…has a pistol with a silencer?” Becky finished unenthusiastically, arms crossed over her chest. “Yeah, Bondman doesn’t count.”

“Okay, um…” Anya thought, chewing on her lip. Becky was relentless.

I am not going to give up on this, came Becky’s thoughts. She needs to learn to be honest with herself.

She was being honest with herself! She was honestly scared of Becky right now, and it was true that the mission came first! She didn’t have time or energy to think about boys, so there was no one she could actually like. Plus it took a lot of work to not fail her classes, so that took time too! That was being honest with herself, right?

…

…right…?

Anya’s brow furrowed as she gazed into the distance.

…right?

Why couldn’t she confidently answer that question?

“I, um,” Anya grunted.

…But then again, she never really had thought about what her type was before. It’s not that she didn’t think some guys were handsome. She thought Papa was handsome, but that was different than what Becky was talking about. At this rate if Becky turned up the heat on these questions any higher, Anya’s hair would catch on fire.

“I think the guy I would like would… probably be tall, smart, good at things,” Anya said, genuinely wracking her brain for this imaginary man before Becky asked another question. “Cares about his family, stands up for me…”

Becky raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty eyes…” Anya continued, now feeling a little warm for some reason. Her heart still seemed to be jumping around too. “And maybe dark hair, actually.”

Becky’s mouth was hanging open now. For some reason she couldn’t quite manage to lift her eyes to meet Becky’s as heat seeped into her cheeks.

“Anya.” Becky said incredulously. How can she not see it? “You just described Damian.”

She hadn’t been drinking anything but suddenly Anya was coughing.

Sy-on boy?! What? No way. Sy-on boy was… Sy-on boy. She was just thinking of someone random! Some imaginary dream man just to get Becky off her case! He wasn’t tall or charming or handsome, he wasn’t smart or stood up for her or was good at things… people like Papa and Bondman were those things, but Sy-on boy couldn’t be more than that, could he?

Well, he was the top student in the class, so he was pretty smart… And even though he was mean sometimes he was also nice to her sometimes, albeit indirectly. Like yesterday in class, when everyone was making fun of her for getting that flower. She didn’t really get why they’d bother making fun of her for something stupid like that, but he shot down that other girl anyway. He did kind of stand up for her.

And… maybe she did think he was a little handsome… at least a little bit. Just objectively, of course.

But she couldn’t like Sy-on boy, that’d be ridiculous, right?

Right…?

Something strange tightened in her gut.

Maybe saying that would get Becky off her case.

“I, um, I l-like-” Anya coughed out.

“I knew it!” Becky squealed suddenly, jumping up and flinging her arms around Anya. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I knew it before you did – you have such a crush on Damian!”

“Wh-what?!” Anya spluttered. “No!”

Even though that’s what she had planned on saying, the fact that Becky just said it aloud made the thought seem so foreign and unattainable. She couldn’t like Damian, that was… that… was…

Anya shook her head. She didn’t know what it would be like to like Damian, but if she did, it would probably be weird.

“I don’t actually know if he’s coming,” Becky said, pulling Anya from her thoughts and towards her vanity. “And I don’t really know what you see in him, but that doesn’t matter.”

Becky clapped her hands on Anya’s shoulders, staring into her eyes as if this was the last moment before battle. Anya started to sweat again.

“But if he is coming, and you do like him, then I, as your best friend, vow to make you look good.”

Anya waited for a moment, with Becky still gripping her shoulders. Was she supposed to like, clap or something?

After another tense moment, Becky turned Anya around by the shoulders and marched her towards her bedroom vanity. The three-mirrored counter was filled with a slew of brushes and sponges and other things Anya couldn’t identify as Becky plopped her onto the velvet stool in front of it. Thankfully she didn’t expect Anya to speak, given she was working on her face, so Anya tried to sort through what just happened.

She didn’t actually have a crush Sy-on boy, right? No, that’d be ridiculous. He promised to bully her every day when they were six, but then she punched him, and they were awkward frenemies ever since.

His face flashed in her mind. Long, dark eyelashes framed light brown eyes, gazing at her as he leaned in.

Anya quickly shook her head, despite a chastisement from Becky. Nope nope nope, that was weird. Couldn’t think about that, that was weird.

Couldn’t think about Sy-on boy sitting beside her, tangling their fingers together.

Or Sy-on boy cupping her face in his hand, thumb gently brushing over her cheek.

She shuddered, trying to shake out the strange feeling that just pulled in her stomach.

“Anya stop moving!” Becky scolded.

“It tickles,” Anya said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. She decided to think about anything besides Sy-on boy looking at her or touching her, seeing as that seemed to make her feel weird. She thought about math instead, as that was probably the least sexy thing she could imagine.

Not that she thought thinking about Sy-on boy was sexy.

Anyway.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed that she was forced to think about math, but finally Becky was finished, stepping away from the vanity to evaluate her masterpiece.

“My magnum opus,” she breathed, nodding approvingly.

“Your what?”

“Miss Becky, Miss Anya, your guests are beginning to arrive,” came a voice from the hallway.

“Thank you!” Becky called to the butler. “Perfect timing. I wonder who came first, I bet it’s George. Ready to go?”

“I’ll meet you down there, I have to poop.”

“Ugh, Anya, you’re so gross sometimes,” Becky retorted, though she didn’t seem all that surprised by the comment, given that it certainly wasn’t the first time Anya had used it. “Fine, but don’t take too long.”

“I might, Mama cooked dinner today.”

“Right right, okay, just bring the plunger in beforehand this time,” Becky said, off down the stairs to greet her guests.

Anya stepped into the bathroom, closing the door tightly behind her. That poop trick had gotten Papa out of many occasions, and she was quite chuffed to see that it worked for her as well.

She pressed her hips against the marble counter, peering closely at her reflection in the mirror. Becky wouldn’t lie to her that she looked nice, right? She looked like herself, but also didn’t. Her eyes seemed bigger, and greener. Becky said the eyeshadow she used complimented her eye color, and the fake eyelashes would draw it out even more. She puckered her lips, trying to look ‘kissable’ like Becky said, but she just kind of looked like a duck. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and pressed her chest out like Becky showed her, but again, it just looked weird and kind of hurt her back.

She wondered if Damian liked when girls wore makeup.

Anya quickly shook her head, the pink curls bouncing around her shoulders. Why would she care what Sy-on boy liked? She didn’t actually like-like him, right? She barely one-liked him, she was sure he wasn’t worth a double like.

Whatever, she could just talk with Becky for the night, and maybe George if he came. Becky’s interrogation was over, so there was no need to worry about those weird thoughts she was having earlier, or that weird fluttery feeling in her stomach. Papa always said it wouldn’t hurt to make more friends, so that was a good a goal as any for the night. With a renewed spring in her step, Anya skipped down the hallway and staircase, letting her curled hair bounce behind her and also testing that her crops top or whatever it was called didn’t slide off as she headed into the party.

---

Two hours passed and the party was in full swing with good music, good food, and more people than Becky invited – which was fine, since apparently she ordered enough food for 200 people ‘just in case.’ Anya stepped out of the grand doors of the guest house and onto the lawn, breathing in the crisp night air as her shoes pressed into the freshly manicured grass, littered with glittering confetti. While it was muggy inside, the outdoors seemed to clear her lungs of the sticky air that adhered itself to her. She had a better handle on crowds than when she was a child, but this many people still made her head spin. Golden light and music alike poured from the arched windows, spilling onto the lawn and partygoers as they mingled and laughed with one another. The music was still pounding in her ears and chest, but the further she made her way down the white-bricked path, the bubbling of the fountains took the music’s place as the most prominent sound wafting through the air.

“I’m surprised you wanted to come after all, Boss-man,” came a voice from the end of the path.

“Well I finished that practice test and the dorm was getting stuffy,” came another, and suddenly Anya’s heart was pounding from something other than the music.

She turned to see Damian, Ewen, and Emile walking onto lawn, accompanied by three girls from their class. She didn’t spend too much time identifying them, given that her eyes latched to Damian as he sauntered into the party. She unintentionally drank in as much as she could, from the white sneakers to the cuffed black pants to the olive button up shirt that seemed to be missing a few buttons at the top, and then back down again. Maybe she didn’t mind school uniforms if she got to be so pleasantly surprised whenever Damian wasn’t wearing one. Suddenly Anya was now glad that Becky helped her out, as this crops top and knee-high boots were certainly fancier than what she came here in.

“Sy-on boy!” she called before she could stop herself. “You came!”

A tinge of pink dusted his cheeks, and Anya wondered if he put blush on before the party too. Before she could make it over to them, she paused when she overheard the three girls muttering to one another.

“Is that Anya Forger?”

“What’s all that gunk on her face? Is that supposed to be makeup?”

“Maybe it’s dirt, she’s kind of poor, remember?”

“Yikes.”

These girls had makeup on, but they always had makeup on in class. It was dark, sharp, and well-done. Is that what Anya’s looked like? She couldn’t remember. Were her eyes that sharp-looking? Probably not, hers were so round and she was pretty sweaty from dancing with Becky, her makeup might’ve smeared off. Anya quickly glanced down to her hands, noticing smudges of mascara on her fingers from when she rubbed at her eyes earlier. She quickly wiped her hands on her shorts.

“Hi, welcome to Becky’s party,” Anya said as the six approached. “Your makeup looks nice,” she said to the girl in front.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said with a voice like rotting molasses. “Yours is… unique.”

I’ve never seen her wear makeup or clothes like that before, came a thought from Damian, but when Anya caught his eye, she didn’t hear anything after that.

“Becky did my makeup,” Anya said, turning back to the girl and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well she should have tried a little harder,” the second girl laughed. “Were you going for a racoon look…?”

“And what’s with the boots, trying to be sexy? Little stubby for that, don’t you think?”

Anya blinked, then stared down at her shoes, now incredibly conscious of the fact that her stomach was showing, that her boots were too high, and the fake eyelashes were starting to itch. Those words repeated in her mind, dragging her into them as if they were quicksand.

Stubby legs

Raccoon face

Ugly.

Stubby legs

Raccoon face

Ugly.

Stubby legs racoon face ugly stubby legs raccoon face ugly stubbylegs racoonface ugly stubbylegsracoonfaceuglyuglyuglyuglyugly

She should have stayed home.

Anya turned, frustrated with herself more than anything. While she usually let comments like these roll off her back, suddenly she felt the hot sting of tears welling in her eyes.

“Where’s Becky?” Damian asked suddenly. “We should greet the host.”

“Good move, Boss-man,” Emile agreed, and just as quickly as they came, the six left Anya standing alone on the path.

She was glad – it gave her a chance to push the tear off her face with her palm. A few more fell when she realized she wiped more mascara off with it.

Anya wished she could have said she was having fun as the party pulled deep into the night, but luckily no one cared enough to ask how she was doing. Becky tried to check in, but seeing as people kept pouring out of the woodwork (and some guy out of a bush at one point), she had enough to wrangle as the host. At least Anya had her poop excuse to fall back on.

She looked up at her reflection again, only for the furrow in her brow to grow deeper. Her eyes were red, her face was splotchy, and the bathroom counter was wet and dirty from her third try at putting on sharp makeup like those girls.

Maybe she did care. Maybe she always kind of had, in the back of her mind. She was scared of being alone again, of being rejected again. Sure, Papa and Mama promised to be with her forever, but the sting of being the freak of four failed foster attempts still throbbed like an over-picked scab on nights like tonight. Maybe she never really thought about boys because she didn’t want to get her hopes up. If she didn’t try, she couldn’t fail, and she couldn’t be reminded that she was a freak.

No, she wasn’t a freak. Anya exhaled heavily, reminding herself of the fact that she had saved lives with her power, and she should be grateful. She did like herself, but it still stung being called stubby and ugly for most of her life… most of all from Sy-on boy, who she had never realized occupied her mind as often as he did.

With another sigh, Anya rinsed her face of the last remnants of makeup, patting it dry with the Egyptian cotton bath towel. If someone looked closely, they could probably tell she was crying, but she just wouldn’t get close enough for anyone to see. Maybe she could go find Becky’s dog and play with her for a bit. She left the boots in the bathroom and opted for the sandals she came in. It didn’t match, but at this point it was too dark to notice and too late to care.

When Anya stepped outside, she was almost startled at how late it had gotten. How long was she in the bathroom? Most everyone had left, save a few pockets of people chatting at the pool, firepit, and dappled throughout the yard. Becky was at the firepit, as were Damian, Emile, Ewen, those three girls, and a handful of other people. With a deep inhale, Anya made her way over there too.

“Anya, there you are!” Becky called, waving her over. Damian glanced up, and maybe it was Anya’s imagination, but he seemed to be sitting a little straighter as she approached. “Where have you been?”

“Pooping.”

“What? Ew,” the girl beside Damian grimaced as Anya took the only open seat on his other side. Anya tucked her hands beneath her thighs, lightly swinging her legs as she listened to the others talk. The girl kept trying to talk to Damian, but he rarely offered her anything more than a one- or two-word response. Anya almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice beside her ear.

“You took your makeup off,” Damian said quietly. Was he talking to her? He wasn’t even looking at her. That was too quiet for anyone else to hear though, so he must have been. Everyone else still had their nice makeup on.

“Oh, yeah, I did,” Anya replied, matching his volume.

“Was it because of what those girls said?”

“It was itchy.”

There was a pause as Anya watched the fire. She turned to see Damian watching her, then his eyes flit to the fire too.

She’s lying, her eyes are red and her shirt’s still wet, came Damian’s thoughts. I knew she was probably hiding somewhere after what they said to her… But what does that have to do with me? I didn’t say anything, and it’s not like it’s my job to make her feel better.

She felt his gaze on her again, only for it to flick away when their eyes met. There weren’t any clear thoughts in Damian’s head, just a strange jumble. His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms, but despite his defensive posture, his tone was softer than she expected.

“I, um, I thought it looked… fine.”

She blinked a few times, trying to process the strange disconnect between his mental and spoken tones. It didn’t make much sense, but then again, it didn’t make sense as to why that made her feel better, so Anya just smiled and nodded.

“Thank you, Damian.”

When he didn’t say anything else, nor think anything else, she turned again to see him staring at her in what looked like… shock?

“What?”

…Damian…? he thought. Anya’s brow furrowed. Yeah, he was Damian. She knew he thought about himself a lot, but just repeating his own name in his head seemed a bit much.

“N-nothing,” he spat out, whipping his head back to the fire. Was the fire too hot for him? His face was awfully red.

This part of the night wasn’t too bad – while Anya didn’t participate much in the conversation, Becky seemed to be having fun, and the fire cast a warm glow over everyone and helped Anya feel a little bit better. Every so often Damian’s leg or hand would brush against her, and it was at those times that the fire seemed particularly warm.

She also guiltlessly enjoyed the mounting frustration in the girl who kept trying to get Damian’s attention, until suddenly she raised her volume a few levels.

“How about we play a game?” the girl asked, clapping her hands together, making everyone jump. “Anyone ever play spin the bottle?”

“I’m not playing that,” Damian immediately retorted.

In front of anyone, came a follow up thought. Anya wondered what that meant.

“Okay, how about truth or dare?”

“I don’t want anything getting broken,” Becky said, tossing her hair behind her.

“What about sardines?” the second girl said, only for the first girl to glare at her.

Sardines won’t get me a kiss from the son of Donovan Desmond, you idiot, the first girl thought.

“Yeah let’s do that,” Anya piped up. She had never heard of the game, but she’d much rather do that than spin the bottle, for whatever reason. “How do you play?”

“O-okay,” the second girl said, eyes cautiously flitting between her friend’s glare and everyone else’s curiosity. “It’s like the opposite of hide-and-seek. One person hides, and the rest of us have to find them. When you find the hider, you stay with the hider in the same spot, then the last person to find everyone loses. It gets harder the more people you have hiding, obviously, since you squeeze together like sardines, but that’s what makes it fun!”

Easy enough, Anya thought. She was always good at hide and seek because she could just listen to people’s thoughts to find them.

“B-but this version, whoever finds the hider first gets to kiss them as reward,” the first girl added quickly, without any room for disagreement. “Damian, why don’t you hide first and we’ll all count.”

“I hope I find you first, Boss-man,” Emile said, winking at Damian, who just pushed at his shoulder while Emile and Ewen laughed.

I’ll hide if that’ll get me out of this stupid conversation, Damian thought. Hopefully it is Ewen or Emile who find me first, this girl has been latched to me for days and the last thing I want to do is kiss her. With a deep sigh, he stood and wandered off.

I’ll just have to be the first person to find him, Anya heard the girl think. I’m the only one who’s peeking, and Blackbell’s place is huge, so we’ll probably have plenty of time alone before anyone else finds us.

The minute of counting came and went, and it took Anya all of 30 seconds to find Damian, given his constant stream of thoughts judging the décor of the room he was in. She found him up in the walk-in closet of the third bedroom in the guest house, sitting on the floor between bundles of clothes. While the bedroom was bathed in moonlight, only a stripe of light trickled into the closet, then a little more so when Anya pushed the door open.

“Found you,” Anya whispered, glancing around to see if anyone saw her find him. While the party was still going on downstairs, it was pretty dark on this floor, so she was probably safe.

“What?! How’d you find me so fast?” Damian hissed. “Were you peeking?”

“No, I’m a hide-and-seek pro,” Anya said, pushing some shirts along on their hangers to see Damian glaring up at her from the floor. His long legs were crossed underneath him, but what unfortunately caught her attention were those shirt buttons that were still undone.

Why’s she staring at me like that…? It’s making me nervous.

“What are you staring at, you want to get caught?” Damian hissed.

“No,” was all she said, as she really wasn’t quite sure why she was staring at him like that.

Anya stooped down and squeezed herself beside him, then readjusted some of the sheets to obscure their feet. She wondered if her blush was as obvious as his, as sitting this close to him made the subtle scent of his cologne more obvious.

“You’re really sweaty.”

“Sh-shut up,” Damian barked. “It’s hot in-“

Anya clapped her hand over his mouth. There were suddenly footsteps in the hallway, as well as the thoughts of that sharp-eyed girl.

I swore I saw him come this way, then Forger came this way too and I haven’t seen her come out…

Damian pulled her hand off his mouth and motioned to bark at her again, only to pause when she kept his hand in hers, squeezing it for emphasis.

“Shut up,” she repeated, looking out the crack of the closet door. “Dog food girl is in the hallway.”

“Don’t tell me to shu-“

“Shhh!”

Silence fell over them as they waited out the seeker. The only sound was the quiet thump of the music downstairs, and the steady rhythm of Damian’s breathing. That seemed to be the only rhythmic thing about him, as his thoughts and heartbeat were a jumbled mess.

Why is my heart beating so hard? It’s not like I’ve never sat beside a girl before.

Anya felt him looking at her.

…But I don’t know if I’ve ever sat so close to Anya… I wish my stupid heart wasn’t pounding so loud, she can probably hear it.

She could.

I hope no one finds us for a while.

That thought made Anya blink a few times. It wasn’t just Damian’s heart that was thundering when she realized she was still holding his hand. She wondered if he noticed.

Did that person leave the hallway? I wonder how long I could get away with holding her hand.

Oh. Yeah he noticed that pretty quickly.

Not that I really want to… she’s still kind of a cry-baby, maybe she’s scared of the dark or something. She’s been trying to hold my hand since we were kids, and she’d cry then too. If she cries then she’ll give our hiding spot away, so I should probably just let it happen.

That was fair enough reasoning for her, too. At least that’s what she told herself when Damian delicately wove their fingers together. Silence fell over them, save the soft rustles of the clothes and sheets around them whenever they adjusted themselves. Despite the air conditioning cooling even this closet, the air still seemed a little warm between them.

Suddenly Mama’s face popped in her mind like a public service announcement.

‘It’s important to chat with your friends!’

“Weather’s nice,” Anya said.

“What?”

Small talk – check.

Well that was taken care of, now what?

They sat for a while longer, watching the strip of moonlight on the ground grow longer as time passed.

“S-so,” Damian started, clearing his throat suddenly. Oh good, his turn for small talk. “Did you, uh, ever figure out who got you the Spring Flower?”

“No, I just gave it to Mama,” Anya shrugged. Why was Damian scowling at her? “What?”

“You gave it to your mom?!” he asked incredulously. “Do you know how expensive that was?!”

Anya blinked. No, she did not know how expensive that was. Did he know how expensive that was?

“I… I mean,” he backtracked. “I assume.”

Shit. Shit shit shit, now I’ve done it, Damian thought. I still don’t even know why I bought it for her, I’ve never bought anyone a Spring Flower before.

Anya watched memories of Damian’s flash in his mind: Shaking off Emile and Ewen, picking the delicate flower from the bouquet, then hiding the nametag from the student council salesperson.

I do think they’re dumb but, he thought. I… I don’t know why I got it for her.

So, it was from him. She wasn’t quite sure why, but that confirmation seemed to cause warmth to spill in her stomach. She tucked her legs to her chest, still making sure to keep her hand in his, as if that would help quell the fluttering feeling that was born from that warmth.

“Did you buy anyone a flower, Sy-on boy?”

“W-well, I, um,” Damian stammered, a deep blush staining his cheeks. Nothing coherent came out of his mouth for a few seconds, until he just grunted. “There’s someone in the hallway, shut up.”

There wasn’t anyone in the hallway, but he really was embarrassing himself by tripping over his words like that, so she kept quiet. Anya wondered if it really be so bad if her flower was from him. If it was, then maybe that could help with Papa’s mission. When that thought crossed her mind, it also seemed to furrow her brow.

…For some reason Anya wanted it to be just about her, she wanted that flower to be just for her. Maybe she could ask Mama for it back.

“D-do you… do you want me to have bought one for someone?” Damian mumbled suddenly.

Anya blinked a few times. Did she? She turned to look at him, again noticing the red tinge of his cheeks. The strip of moonlight acted as a backlight, highlighting his profile and features. Long, dark eyelashes framed light brown eyes, gently learning towards her. Having him so close was… strange. He was almost pretty. Anya turned away.

Embarrassment was a very rare feeling for Anya, and yet, sitting in the dark beside Damian seemed to amplify that sensation. When it was for the sake of Papa’s mission, Anya could say or do anything to get Damian to look at her or talk to her, but when it was for the sake of herself, she, for some reason, had a hard time overcoming this unfamiliar bashfulness. She opened her mouth, just to close it, then to open it again. She bit her lip, then pulled their hands onto her lap.

“I want you to have gotten me one,” Anya said quietly, and her statement made Damian jump.

Silence fell between them again, and Anya found it hard to swallow past the lump in her throat. Was that a weird thing to say? She already knew he bought it for her, so why wasn’t he saying anything or thinking anything? She felt him watching her, and when she turned, he was closer than she expected. There was something different in his eyes as he looked at her, and while he started thinking coherently again, Anya was too distracted by the color of his eyes to notice anything besides that.

The only other thing she noticed was the color of his lips.

She needs to stop looking at me like that, Damian thought, his own eyes flicking to Anya’s lips. Do I tell her I bought her the flower? Would that make her happy? She’s still holding my hand, I wonder if she notices. Her eyes are so beautiful, I don’t think I’ve ever sat so close to her before. I wonder what it would be like to kiss her.

Anya jolted at that thought, ramming her head into a dozen metal hangers which all clanged and clattered to the floor in a concerto of terrible noise. Damian lurched towards the hangers in an attempt to quell the sound, but only managed to land on top of Anya, their faces merely inches away.

Both their minds were nothing but buzzing as they took a moment, then a moment more, to understand what this position meant to them.

Damian had always been taller than her, but Anya never truly realized it until he was leaning over her, weight pressed against her, with his arm beside her head and the subtle smell of his cologne so close. She glanced down, then up, swallowing hard as the fabric of his shirt tickled her skin. She unintentionally licked her bottom lip, watching as Damian’s eyes stayed trained on her tongue.

Kiss her, came a whisper of a thought.

Kiss her.

“The first person to find me was supposed to earn a kiss as a reward,” Damian whispered, lidded eyes glued to Anya’s lips.

“Right,” Anya whispered, heart pounding in her ears at the reminder. “Someone did say that.”

Someone did say that, someone did say that a kiss from Damian was a reward for finding him. Was she ready? Did she really like him like that? Wasn’t he just the brat that she punched when they were kids? Those thoughts faded like dusk as a new thought formed in her mind, as soft as the moonlight’s glow.

Kiss him.

You’ve wanted to for so long.

With each second, Damian closed a centimeter of space between them, dark eyelashes fluttering. She could feel the warmth of his breath as he leaned in closer, then closer still.

“I bet they’re in here!” came a call from outside the closet door.

Damian reeled backwards, slamming his head on the shelf above him, which sent an avalanche of shirts toppling onto him. The door swung open and the light flicked on, blasting away the shreds of moonlight with a fluorescent glare.

“Ha, I knew it!” Ewen cheered. Emile and Becky poked their heads past the doorframe beside Ewen, watching as Anya and Damian struggled with the mass of clothing on top of them.

“So who loses if we all found him together?” Becky asked.

“Looks like Boss-man is the real loser now that we’ve found him,” Emile said, grinning knowingly and elbowing Ewen as Anya’s head popped out of the clothes bundle like it was a pile of snow.

At that, Damian pushed off the mass of clothes in a huff, face beet red as he stormed passed the curious onlookers.

“Whatever, this game was stupid,” he grunted, plucking a sock out of his pocket and tossing it to the ground. “You guys took forever.”

“What we should be hearing is a ‘thank yo-hrrnk!” Ewen’s sentence was cut short by Damian pushing him out of the bedroom in a huff.

“Yeah I don’t know if I’d play this again,” Becky said, stepping through the clothes to help Anya up. “Ewen and Emile forced us all to team up, even though that was against the point of the game. We went everywhere except for here, though I was pretty sure you were up here the whole time.”

Anya only nodded, following Becky out of the room. She delicately touched her finger to her lips, wondering why her heart was still pounding, and why Damian’s whispered thoughts of kiss her kept replaying in her head. They played in her mind at the same tempo as her steps in the grass as they all finally made it back out to the campfire. Apparently those three girls had left a while ago – something about smeared makeup and Becky’s dog, but Anya didn’t care enough to pay attention. The fire was only embers as the remaining five arrived, and even though Becky was talking to her about something, Anya strained to hear what it is the boys were discussing.

“Did you get one, Boss-man?”

“Yeah, did you get a kiss? We tried to distract everyone for you.”

“What?! Sh-shut up, that’s disgusting, what a waste of time.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I-I, well, I mean no, but I wouldn’t have wanted to anyway!”

“Oh hey Emile, didn’t you have to be back at the dorm?”

“Oh why yes that’s right Ewen, I suppose you and I should head back to the dorm.”

“What are you two-“

“See you later Boss-man, you’ll have to catch a ride with someone else!”

“Hey!”

The sounds of footsteps quickened, then quieted, and before she knew it Damian was standing alone on the patio. He looked just as confused as she was when he turned around.

“So I know you were going to sleep over, but I’m not feeling well,” Becky said suddenly. “Why don’t you stay over another night?”

“Huh?”

“All the drivers are busy so you’ll have to go back with Damian, I’ll bring your stuff to you at school tomorrow, bye!”

In a flurry, the lights were off, the doors were locked, and Damian and Anya were the only two still standing on the patio of the Blackbell estate.

“She could have at least left a light on,” Anya grumbled, and suddenly a tiny porch light flicked on.

“What the hell,” Damian said, still dumbfounded at the sudden disappearance of their three friends. Anya walked up to him, then past him. “H-hey, wait, where are you going?”

“Home.”

“By yourself?”

“Yeah, everyone left.”

“Can’t you call your driver?” Damian asked. Anya raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “O-or your parents?”

“It’s like, four in the morning.”

“You shouldn’t walk home alone.”

“I haven’t learned to fly yet, so unfortunately this is all I got.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Damian huffed, stomping up beside her.

“You have a better idea on how I get home?”

Damian paused, still glowering down at her, until he suddenly turned away, walking towards the entrance of the estate.

“I’ll call my driver, he can drop you off,” he said. “So don’t… you don’t have to walk all the way home.”

They walked to the front of the estate in silence, stepping along the white-bricked path from the backyard lawn. It was a humid night, yet there was still a bit of a chill as insects chirped in the trees and flowers of the gardens. They arrived at the front of the estate, taking a seat on the elaborate marble fountain out front. Anya swung her legs back and forth as Damian leaned against the fountain to call his driver.

“Should be 20 minutes,” he grunted, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Why aren’t you staying with Blackbell tonight? Didn’t you get ready here?”

“Yeah she said she felt sick,” Anya shrugged. “I dunno, I’d rather sleep at my house anyway. Spy Wars is on tomorrow morning and Becky never wants to watch it.”

They waited in silence, save a yawn from Anya. As the moon cast its gleam over them, the long day finally caught up to her and seemed to weigh down her eyelids. She tipped forward a few times, head heavy, only to jerk back. The third time it happened, Damian grabbed the top of her head and set it against his shoulder.

“You flinching like that is so aggravating,” he grunted.

Anya melted against him, curling her hands around his arm, and nuzzling against his shoulder like he was her stuffed penguin toy. She let out another yawn, grateful for the soft, cologne-tinted pillow she was now resting against. Damian’s posture stiffened for a moment, then loosened as he adjusted himself beside Anya. The insects sang in the background, chirping a sweet concerto just for them as they waited with one another.

“Thank you for the flower, Damian,” Anya said quietly after a while.

“You’re welcome.”

A moment passed, then a moment more, before Damian jolted forward. The bug’s sweet concerto was interrupted by spluttering and splashing when Anya tumbled backwards into the fountain.

“How did you know I bought it for you?!” Damian blurted out, pointing an accusatory finger at a now-soaked Anya.

“You just told me!” she yelled in return. Granted he told her a while ago in his thoughts, but this was a good enough excuse as any. “And you just pushed me into a fountain!”

“That’s not my fault, you fell on your own!”

“You fell on your own!”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You’re just mad I guessed right!”

“What, you want a reward?!”

“Yeah, I do!” Anya rebutted. “You owe me two now.”

“Two?” Damian sneered. His glare softened when revelation dawned, then that familiar blush crept back into his cheeks. “Th-that’s… you can’t be serious, right?”

“I’m always serious,” Anya said as she climbed out of the fountain with one shoe. She fished out the other one easily enough. “Unless you’re not a man of your word?”

“Of course I am,” Damian spat as Anya wrung out her hair. His scowl deepened the longer she stared at him, but that competitive streak didn’t allow him to move. When Anya raised an eyebrow at him, he pursed his lips. “F-fine, but if you tell anyone about this, I will never let you visit my house.”

Anya didn’t say anything as Damian stomped towards her, stopping a foot away.

“At least its dark and no one’s around,” Damian grunted, though he did double check that they were alone before setting his hand on the marble beside where Anya was sitting. His eyes flicked up to meet hers, then away again, though he didn’t move. He inhaled, and his next sentence came out more hesitant than she expected. “Do you… really want me to kiss you…?”

Anya met his gaze again.

Did she? Wasn’t he just the boy she was supposed to befriend for Papa to save the world and wasn’t he just the boy that was in her mind all the time and wasn’t he just the boy that she punched in first grade and wasn’t he just the boy that she’s wanted to kiss all these years?

“Yes.”

She didn’t have to think about it anymore, because that one word was as true as the fluttering in her gut, as true as the excitement in her bones when Damian leaned closer. The fountain bubbled behind them, the insects sang around them, and the moonlight shone over them as Damian leaned in yet again. He raised a hand to her cheek, only close enough for the nerves to stand on end. He retracted his hand, leaned closer, now only inches from her lips. When he didn’t move any closer, Anya took it upon herself to whisper.

“Have you ever kissed someone before, Sy-on boy?”

“Have you?!”

“No.”

“Okay, well, just… stop talking,” Damian grunted.

Her eyelids started to flutter as he became fuzzy, feeling the warmth of his breath over her lips the closer he leaned. She waited, waited, waited, until she couldn’t wait any longer. Anya closed the space between them, pressing a delicate kiss against his lips. She broke off almost instantly, just for Damian to catch her lips in another kiss. It was soft, cautious, and strangely so kind. He raised his hand to cup her cheek, then his other hand snaked around her waist, as fluidly as if he had practiced these movements a thousand times. He kissed her, held her, as if she were made of glass.

After a moment he broke off, eyelashes fluttering against her skin.

Neither of them breathed as the tingling of their kiss faded.

“If you tell anyone about this,” Damian whispered. “I will deny it with every ounce of my being.”

“Okay,” Anya said, a smile blooming on her face, just as warmth bloomed in her heart.

As if on cue, headlights flashed as a long, black limousine pulled up the drive. Damian quickly stepped away from Anya and the fountain like a repelled magnet, and over to the curb to meet his driver. Wordlessly, he opened the door for Anya, grimacing as her wet clothes and sticky skin slid into the back seat, squeaking along the leather. She told the driver her address, Damian slid in beside her, and they drove in silence as the dawn broke over the horizon.

Even though he wasn’t looking at her, he didn’t pull away when she gently curled her pinky around his.

When they pulled up to her door, a fuzzy sound buzzed into Anya’s mind.

I don’t want her to go just yet.

“I was hoping to be back at the dorm hours ago,” Damian sneered, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest.

I’m glad I got to see her tonight.

“This definitely wasn’t worth the trouble.”

“Thanks for taking me home, Sy-on boy,” Anya said, a small smile forming on her lips.

Damian’s voice and mind were silent for a moment, until he quietly thought.

I’ll miss you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Anya smiled. She leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, then stepped out of the car and into the dawn-dappled sidewalk.

The limousine drove off as Anya walked up the front steps to her family’s apartment.

“Oh, I need to trade that flower back from Mama,” Anya muttered to herself, plucking a dandelion from between the cracks in the steps.

---

Sunday came and went, and soon the students of Eden Academy were back at their desks on Monday morning. Some were still a little worse for wear, but Becky was chipper in saying she thought the party was a success. Anya wasn’t too responsive, though, as her gaze kept flicking to Damian’s as he entered the room. He passed by without a glance or word, silently walking up the steps to take his seat.

Beautiful, came a quiet thought.

Anya bit back a smile as that same strange feeling fluttered in her stomach.

“Sooo, did something happen between you and Damian?” Becky whispered, eyebrow raised as she glanced between the flushed faces of Anya, then the boy sitting a few rows back. Anya fiddled with the hem of her sleeve, chewing on her lip.

“Um, no,” Anya lied. “He got his driver to take me home after you went inside.”

“Aw, is that all?” Becky asked, lip sticking out as if this were some lackluster season finale of 'Lover Lover Oh My Lover: Lovers in Loveland'.

Anya just shrugged, pulling out her own textbook and homework, hoping to complete it in the minutes before class began.

She wasn’t quite sure why she lied to Becky about the kiss she and Damian shared. Maybe she didn’t want to share that information quite yet. That knowledge was all for her – she was the one who got to cherish that warmth whenever she thought about their time together. It wasn’t for Becky, it wasn’t for Papa, it wasn’t for the world.

It was just for her and Sy-on boy.

Brown eyes met green when Anya subtly turned her head, but Damian’s gaze was elsewhere just as quickly.

The night had faded from the sky, the tingling of their kiss had faded from her lips, and reality was upon her yet again as she turned back to the front of the class, opening her textbook as the lecture began.

And yet, something within Anya was still blooming, just as delicate as a flower at dawn.

105 notes · View notes