A/n: Beta'd by my new friend little_boats_on_a_lake. Thank you for your help on this fic.
Chapter Three- Potential
It's been two weeks of their new schedule, of Damian growing used to Anya as his friend once more, of her sitting with him and asking him questions about their lectures during actually appropriate times. He feels as if his head is above water now that he's found a good balance of wanting to be around Anya and getting her out of his system, which has helped him keep her out of his head during his Anya-free times. Somehow.
"I have to pee." Anya blurts, pulling at his sleeve as they are walking down the hall. Damian shrugs her touch away, trying not to think about it.
"We're not walking together, we are just going to the same place." Damian reminds her, but he knows it's not true. He always matches her speed, knowing his long strides can easily outpace her if he wished. "And don't announce that stuff, just go if you have to go." Damian strolls on, leaving Anya behind as he walks to their third-period Literature and Composition Arts class.
He's grumbling as he climbs the incline to their back table and sits.
This is his least favorite class. His intention is to get the Art requirement out of the way but they are starting the year with poetry, and the professor, an older woman with long silver hair and a different pair of dangling earrings each day, likes feelings. He's not well suited for this. He's gotten so skilled at suppressing his emotions and categorizing them that he views it more as if he is an orchestra maestro who's forcing his instruments to remain silent. Damian believes this is his ideal performance to run himself optimally.
But with Anya sitting beside him and the professor trying to reach into the dark hidden places inside Damian- it irritates him. It's why, when another guy sits in Anya's usual spot, he doesn't say a word. He glares over at the oblivious guy, dark hair in a mess on his head but his blue eyes clear and his jaw strong. Damian has known Theodore Russell since Elementary, having brushed elbows but never gotten close. Very very few have over his years here.
The guy gets out a notebook and pencil and annoyingly taps at the metal spiral, purposefully not keeping the beat steady. This is the same guy Damian saw speaking to Anya during the class picture, the one he thinks smelled Anya's sweet-scented hair. Theodore had, but it is speculation for Damian.
"Soccer team's final list is being posted during lunch," Theodore smirks. "I saw you at tryouts, thought you'd wanna know." Damian nods, acknowledging the information but not adding anything to the conversation. "It's just, academics is your world, athletics is mine, so... stay out of my way."
Damian stretches his neck, snapping his rubber band to keep away angry thoughts instead of naughty Anya thoughts for the first time. "I want the extracurricular on my transcripts." He also sees Anya and Becky doing strange fighting moves in the courtyard often enough to also want to stay fit and active.
"Yeah, and some of us take soccer seriously." Theodore straightens in his chair, thinking some rude thoughts about Damian's attitude and a few petty vicious ones too at the wrong time as Anya storms up the stairs toward the table. "It's an extra for you but for me-"
"You!" Anya points as she nears, focusing on Theo. "That's my seat." The guy looks amused, his eyebrows arching.
"There's a seat right beside me, Forger." Theo waves his hand to his other side but Anya doesn't slow, reaching their platform and with a smirk, she points to the seat he offers. Theo nods but Damian knows her expression is a mask. He scoots his chair over, backing away from whatever Anya plans for Theo.
With a flourish, she takes the empty chair and moves it away from the table. She bends, closing in on Theo, and his heart races, his mind whirling, thinking -Is she going to kiss me?- but she glares eye-to-eye instead. "If you mess with Damian, you mess with me." And with relative ease, she kicks his chair, it and Theo scooting to the space he offered her a second ago.
Damian's eyes grow wide, his face burning and his hands forming fists. -Anya is on my side.- He thinks, wondering if anyone else would ever go as far as she's always done for him. She pushes Theo's notebook and pencil down, claiming the chair she put aside to sit in her usual spot beside Damian.
Anya sits, at ease as both boys marvel at her. Thoughts swirled in Theo's head. -I knew she was great, but she's strong enough to kick me around! So small and so powerful! I want her. It's just an added bonus that it will really piss off Damian if I steal his little puppy follower.- Damian, on the other hand, struggled with the thought of Anya's loyalty. One of the traits he absolutely values. It's always been there, and he's uncomfortable now that she seems even more brilliant than she did a few moments ago.
She got out her notebook as if she hadn't just threatened Theo and removed him from Damian's side like the annoying splinter he is. But after taking in Anya's delicate profile, her bottom lip slightly sucking between her teeth, her saliva glistening like dew. He spots Theo looking at her in much the same way he had after Anya clocked him right in the face in their first year.
Damian fumes, refusing to think anything at all, and for the first time since he started this class, he is grateful when the flowery professor strolls in. "We'll be covering a favorite of mine today, a war-time poem about two lovers- One from Westalis and the other, Ostania." She claps. "Don't mistake this for a love poem- today is all about tragedy and how sometimes, our greatest enemy is ourselves."
Anya, though, is excitedly thinking about telling Yor how she stood up to a bully for Damian in such a nonviolent way. Years of Yor's training has made her strong and capable, but her mother always insisted on nonviolence. She's so wrapped up in her own mind that the fuzzing thoughts of everyone else haven't registered to her since she moved Theo over a seat. Yor's words floated through her mind, 'Just because you can rip someone's face off doesn't mean you ever should. I've only had to do it three times myself and those were desperate times!'
Since her mother had thought about it at the time, the three bloody and faceless skulls come to Anya's mind.
Anya stares straight ahead until Damian's elbow brushes hers. She turns and with a little indication, he pushes his notes so she can see them as an offer for her to copy them down. Anya does, smiling softly that he is looking out for her too. His mind is in "strict mode" where he is only thinking about the poem and how he identifies with the man- too wrapped up in his own stuff and own country to see what was right in front of him. Both stuck.
After class is lunch break and Damian waits for Anya for the first time, ensuring Theo leaves before them. Usually, he rushes out and she's been doing her own thing- waiting for her fantasizer to fantasize again. She's pleased, a thrill dancing up her spine, and for a moment Anya just stares up at him until he blushes and shrugs.
"Never mind." He mutters, finding his voice failing him and his mind scattering. He doesn't like how his nervous system is activating as if a threat is nearby. Damian starts to go and Anya follows, walking fast to keep up with him. His thoughts whirl around soccer and making the team.
"Sy-on boy!" She calls softly, reaching out to him and tugging his sleeve. He looks back as her eyes rise to his. "I'll come with you."
The breath rushes from his lungs, thinking about Anya's legs wrapped around his waist, her hair a tangled mess on his bed as he works her body with his. That they come together- a crescendo at the end of a hot, desperate symphony. The real Anya gasps, dropping his sleeve, her hand rising to her lips and he remembers holding her body against his as he steps toward her, eyes narrowing.
"Why?"
"To see..." she resists stepping away, letting him enter her personal space, and her tummy flutters again. "... if you make the soccer team."
Damian averts his gaze, spins on his heels, and after two steps, he pauses to give her a nonchalant look over his shoulder. "Come with me then." He smirks, enjoying his own double entendre, thinking it's something only he is privy to, and Anya's wide eyes implore him before she follows his lead.
She knows he's still undecided about her, but his fantasy, a flash of their flesh becoming one, reminds her of how that fantasizer had thought about her too. She shakes her head, remembering that her phrase sparked that thought, not him. After years of hearing the surface thoughts of everyone around, she knows someone thinking for themselves creates the most lasting and meaningful thoughts.
If she says 'circus' and someone thinks of a clown, it simply means that's the connection.
They are quiet but Damian is still thinking about that poem. She doesn't think about it, and as soon as he stops in front of the posted sheet of this year's soccer team, she asks. "Do you like me?"
She feels vulnerable but she wants to know, nervously wringing her own hands and tapping her shoes together as she straightens.
Damian, surprisingly, thinks about Becky. Anya frowns, his face tense and his mind churns simultaneous thoughts. Of Becky's warning and separately he thinks of Anya's laugh, of her weird tense smile that gives her away as anything but happy, the way she eats peanuts, and then of things that have never happened. Of him pressing her against the cork board to smell her hair and to whisper in her ear. Damian stares into her clear green eyes, comparing them to the biggest jewels he's ever had the delight to view and snaps at his band.
His focus clears his mind like stilling a rippling pond after a rain. He's a Desmond, he doesn't have the privilege of following his whims and Anya is just that, a pubescent curiosity that a masturbation session will cure. He is expected to marry for connection and a rich bloodline. Anya is a nobody.
"No." He lies. Trying to convince himself that this is the right path for him.
She tries to resist, she tries so hard, but her bottom lip wobbles, her knees shake and the tears that well in her eyes only make her prettier. Her eyes shine like glass and he wishes silently that he could fall into them. His icy expression in his reflection surprises him and he understands how she and everyone else must see him. How cruel he is to her, with his indifference and his cutting words, and he marvels at how strong she is in herself to still pursue him. He wants to take it back, to tell her he is drawn to her but his chest squeezes painfully, his throat closes up, and his eyes sting.
His mouth opens but his voice fails him. He reaches out, his hand acting on its own intent to brush her tears away and trace the swell of her cheek, but he freezes when a person bumps into him from behind. Interrupting.
Ewen slaps at his shoulder, pulling Damian into his side as he chuckles, "Congrats on making the Soccer team! We'll finally have something to do together again. Middle school was rough without any joined hobbies." The blonde is almost as tall as Damian but with how he still wears his hair, it seems as if Ewen is taller at first glance. "Oh, I didn't see you there, Anya. You're still as stubby as you've always been."
She flashes back to Elementary school and the thought of it finally makes her tears fall. Ewen chuckles, "Yup, still a baby too." Anya feels overfull and raw. As if Damian pulled a weed from deep inside her, taking roots that had started spreading into other parts of her. She turns away, hearing a grunt and Damian roughly telling his friend to 'shut up,' but Anya keeps walking without hearing the rest.
She needs a break. She goes to her dorm room which is thankfully empty outside of the Maple Hall supervisor, the daytime attendant looking very much like a typical librarian.
"Oh dear, wash your face. You'll feel better after." The woman tries to help, actually giving her a little pouch of tissues and a bar of chocolate. Anya looks at them in surprise, "Oh honey, you'd be surprised how often this happens." She nods, accepting them both and taking her advice, she does go to the bathroom and washes her face. It helps.
In the mirror, she tells herself, "It's okay, nothing's really changed. I need to trust his actions. Just because he thinks about things doesn't mean he wants them." And she believes it to be true, as her father always told her actions speak louder than words. Of course, he had been secretly talking about his international spy network ensuring peace, but she's pretty sure it applies in relationships as well. "Sorry, papa," she mutters, thinking Operation Strix is over with Damian being so closed-off.
She knows it's not why she's been sticking around. She's simply the only one that knows who Damian really is, but Anya cannot keep doing this to herself.
She heads to the tree she likes in the courtyard with half of lunch still left, not hungry but wanting to return to her routine for comfort. She wants to talk to Becky, to tell her how she put herself out there and Damian told her no, and how Ewen is still a bully. Anya sits in the shade, making a plan to stay away from him as much as she can.
They are paired in Beginners BioTechnology and partners in Human Physiology, but those are subjects she struggles with most and can benefit from his mind. "We can still be friends," Anya vows to herself, intent on putting her other feelings away. The tummy flutters and racing heart are new and she thinks she may overcome them. She pulls out her assignment and Anya makes it through a handful of problems when she remembers her fantasizer.
Anya focuses in an attempt to pick up some other thoughts, but a group of girls to her right surprise her. The dark-haired girl between the two talking friends is mentally marking off a list of potential husbands, wanting to make the most favorable match. She's an Imperial Scholar and Anya frowns at her, thinking she should have more important things going on. Anya figures it must be all the hormones as it seems everyone's mind keeps popping up with weird thoughts about their bodies, sex, and people they like.
She forgets about the girl's thoughts quickly enough as a fantasy, one on the edge of her range, is detected. It's about her again and the guy hands her a poem. Real Anya frowns. This isn't like the last one. This poem is vaguely familiar from her Language course and the fantasy Anya smiles as she speaks. 'I understand, this can be a one time thing. No strings attached.'
Real Anya blinks as she sets her assignment down, ready to fall into this fantasy. Whoever it is must not want anything more from her either. She decides it doesn't matter, wanting a mood booster through this. Fantasy Anya approaches the man, looking up at him, and her eyes reflect a man there, but the image is too quick as they kiss, long and strong fingers undoing her buttons. Fantasy Anya is returning the favor, untying his cape to let it pool on the ground, her small hands tugging at the buttons of his uniform shirt.
He makes fast work of her clothes, pulling away from her to look, taking her hands from his now open pants zipper. He kisses her fingertips and Real Anya rubs her fingers together to make the fantasy a little more real. She closes her eyes too, wanting to see what the fantasizer does. He shakes out his cape, laying it flat under the tree where the Real Anya is sitting for fantasy Anya to lay on.
The man captures her mouth, leading her down, but Real Anya frowns as he pulls away because fantasy Anya is crying. Tears brim in her big green eyes before spilling over and the man stops, his hands cupping her face, and then his lips are brushing along her cheeks- catching her tears with his lips. "I'm sorry." The man chokes, his voice strained and she knows the fantasizer must have said it out loud as well as in his head but it's too warbled for her to recognize.
Real Anya snaps out of the fantasy. Had the fantasizer seen her cry today? Is that why it took a turn? The first one had been so eager and hot but this one had been slower and he imagined her crying? Of just comforting her? Unsatisfied in two ways now, she packs up her things and heads to her next classroom early, not looking forward to working with Damian so soon.
The fantasizer's thoughts shift, and coincidently, they get stronger as she walks to class. She's getting closer to him. He imagines their bare chests pressing together, of Anya telling him that it is okay, that she knows him. 'If this is all I can have of you, I want it.' Fantasy Anya moans but Real Anya is on a new mission. Maybe she can find this guy.
She's located minds in a crowd before. She knows the direction that the thoughts originate from and she knows she needs to go up. The building on the right is the science building. She has two classes in this building this year but it's usually pretty empty since it's harder to get into these lectures.
The fantasy shifts as the fantasizer takes care of her, pushing her hands away from his pants once more as if wanting to make her happy instead of having her take care of him. His hands pull her panties down and fantasy Anya works with him, lifting her hips even as her face flushes. It's getting good again and Real Anya shakes her head as her body starts to react with the too-pretty-Anya in this guy's mind.
Anya takes the stairs, having to pass her classroom to get to them, but she has time before class starts. She makes it up two flights, almost to the top level when the bell rings to signify an end to lunch. A classroom door opens and Anya moves to the side to watch the kids exit. They are upperclassmen, and this time Anya remembers the Imperial Scholar cape from the fantasy, but she thinks -Maybe fantasizer just wishes he was a scholar-.
Not many notice her, but the fantasy is over and the mind trail slips out of her reach. She knows her limitations and she knows with how much focus it took, that she will be very sleepy again. Still, she walks this floor slowly to the other set of stairs, going to her class and wondering if an upperclassman likes her or just daydreams about her from his classroom window?
She figures it must be the latter.
Her professor is there, writing on the board and he vaguely looks up before giving a small start. Damian is already sitting and Anya angles that way until her teacher stops her. "Anya." He calls, reaching out and taking her shoulder. He has a tissue in his hand and gives it to her. "Better go to the nurse's office." He leads her to the door, which is open, kids moving about in the hall. "Do you know the way?"
Anya doesn't.
Their professor turns to the class and Damian stands, "I'll take-"
Theodore Russell stops in the hall. "I'm on lunch, I can take her to the nurse's office." His dark hair is a little damp, face still flushed from exercise. His teacher agrees, telling Damian, "If you'd take her notes for her, Thank you Theo. Don't worry about missing class, Anya. Lord Desmond takes impeccable notes."
Theo gives Damian a little smirk that he doesn't see because he is actually concerned about Anya's bleeding nose. She wobbles and in a smooth swoop, Theo picks her up. She squeaks, but he moves from the doorway before the teacher sees. Damian does notice that, his face contorting in rage before he sits, clicking his pen furiously. -I won't be upset with her if she finds someone when I can't. Just not Theo.-
He honestly didn't have anything against Theo other than the fact that he dared to also be interested in Anya. Damian's thoughts whirled as he edited them retroactively, telling himself he isn't interested in Anya, that she is simply his exact physical ideal. He shakes his head, trying to focus on class for her. This is the only thing he can do for her now.
Anya, though, has a hard time focusing on Theo's thoughts with her head aching. -She's so light, so little, for being so strong.- Theo likes how she feels in his arms but when they reach the stairway, Anya pushes from him, placing her feet down to walk on her own. "I can valk." Anya declares, swaying before she grips the railway, her voice sounding funny with her pinched noise.
Theo laughs, stepping in line with her, paying extra attention in case he needs to catch her.
"What happened?" He asks, and Anya shrugs.
"I get dem sometimes." Anya worries that moving on campus may have been a bad idea. There is a lot more activity here than in her apartment with her parents.
"Is your head hurting too?" Theo lowers his voice, considerate of her. Anya nods, accepting his arm as they reach the ground level. "We're close, but you're bleeding through your tissue, hold on."
Theo grabs his handkerchief, a TR engraved on it, and Anya tries to refuse it, "Yewl get vlood on it." She warbles around her stuffed nose. He shrugged, his hand wrapping around her wrist to pull the tissue away and he presses his cloth in its place. Anya flushes, her hand covering his before he pulls back. "Fank yew."
It's then that her name is shouted from down the hall and they both look to see Becky, her face twisting in a worried expression. In a blink, she's there beside her friend. "What happened! Another bloody nose? I thought you said they got better over the summer?!"
They had, actually. Being away from so many people had helped. Anya smiles, glad to see her friend and she grabs her hand. "Fank yew, Feo- Becky can take me to fe nurse." Her friend looks between Anya and Theo with raising brows but gets the hint when Anya squeezes her hand.
"Oh right, yes. I got her." Becky takes a few steps before turning back, "Where is the nurse's office?" Theo laughs, his face peaceful as he tells them, "Two rights and the second office on the left." Theo watches them go, curious about Anya and making some hopeful plans himself.
For the entire walk to the nurses office, Anya tells Becky in excruciating detail everything that has happened all while holding her nose and talking with a lisp. Leaving out the mind reading and the fantasizer, of course. Becky hangs on her every word, wincing and frowning at the right parts. "I fink he was going to fake me to the nurses office, but Feo was in the hall and volunteered first."
"Well, I know how to kill him," Becky says calmly, thinking about Yor's 'five most lethal points to stab' demonstration. "Actually, I want to hurt him first." She thought about the leg hold, the arm bar, the spine dislocation and then the jaw removal- all things Yor taught the girls in their fitness lessons.
"No. I'm going to give up on vorld peace." Anya mutters and Becky nods, thinking she is no longer going to let Damian grouch all over her all the time, that their friendship is over. They go to the nurse, keeping their conversation mild in front of the professional. She situates Anya in a cot and Becky eats her lunch with her.
When the bell rings, Becky packs up, not having an excuse to miss her next class. The nurse thanks her, telling her she will note in her file the care she took with her friend while she was ill. Becky shrugs it off. She wasn't helping her friend for the potential to earn a stella star.
In the hall, Becky halts, her frown deepening as a tall form rushes toward her, skirting around other students rudely. His dark hair is chaotic and for only a moment, Becky sees what Anya does. He is kind of cute with concern on his face, she thinks, -maybe if he looked more approachable he would have a chance.-
Becky walks in his direction and he slows, flipping directions to ask, "Is she okay?" With a huff, she raises her nose, "Is Theo in there with her?" Damian glances back the way she came, wanting to go to the nurse's office. He stops, considering it, and she does too, actually looking at him. Then, slowly, it clicks for Becky, a gradual connection as years of Damian's reactions to Anya flash in her mind.
-He is jealous of Theo, worried about him being with her.-
She always thought his face turned red with anger, him lashing out often enough during those times, but she gasps as she connects the dots. "You!" She points, her hands flapping up and down in excitement. She thinks about her manga again. Anya's story shot it down but this, Damian's actions, are reawakening it. -I can help them and myself!- "You like Anya, you've liked her for years."
"That's preposterous!" He declares, but his ears pinken, his cheeks following.
"Don't worry," Becky reigns in her excitement, happy for her friend but wanting this to unfold in the best of ways. "I'll help you since you are incapable of helping yourself." She turns away from him and his stomach rolls in dread.
"No!" He calls out, embarrassed he is raising his voice. "We don't want any help! I mean, I don't."
Becky smiles while mentally planning a boy-girl party at her new place. That she will be inviting Theo and some other soccer players during practice in front of Damian tomorrow. She smirks over her shoulder, glad to see Damian icily glaring at her. Two birds with one stone: get Anya who she wants and hurt Damian. -Mental torture can be painful too.-