Autumn in Berlint is beautiful. People are taking longer scenic routes to go home, enjoying the leaves changing colors. Cafes and restaurants are pulling out seasonal menus adjusting to local farmer harvests. Of course, not everyone has the privilege to enjoy the seasonal change. Some people are busy, busy, busy.

Some people are students, may it be doctorate level or middle schoolers. Ambitious, high stakes, sky-high privilege students at Eden Private Academy are demanded to always be on edge.

It's her 9th year in Eden. Mama kept saying "How time flies." every time they see each other, but Anya feels the time ticks slower at her age. A year is a long time for her, she can feel the seconds her uniform mary-janes are no longer supporting her feet. The ticking time before every exam, every time she gets to pack back home for the holidays, and pack her bags again to Cecile Hall dorm.

She's doing better than her earliest days here, to everyone's (especially Papa's) relief. Still not an Imperial Scholar, no, but she has missed the chances to get any additional tonitrus bolt. She finds passion with the classic literature club, she gets to read and write a lot of reviews, which requires even more reading, but it's fun for her, and she's good at it. For a good while it was enough, but she missed the action she had with Papa, so she tried out for both the school newspaper and the broadcasting club.

Her unpolished, genuine language skills earned her a stella star, one of the first in her year to receive one through extracurricular activity. She enjoys journalistic writing, she gets to do the activities she loves in classic literature, but with additional adrenaline from the deadlines and stakes of the contents. She's busy, busy, busy! And she loves it!

She doesn't pay attention to the leaves changing, nor when Professor Henderson mentions the beauty of uh, some things. She was doing her other, pending work. But she always has the time to notice the seasonal pie for dessert in the lunch hall, which is pumpkin, huh? "What do you know, it's officially autumn."

"It's been officially autumn for a week." Becky used her finger to clean a bit of pumpkin puree on the corner of Anya's mouth.

"How's your upcoming article? I heard some teachers and alumni are against it from being published at all."

"Yeah." Anya kept on doing her physics homework. She's behind on a lot of stuff.

"But my team has worked hard for it, and the encouragement to get it published isn't minimal either. Besides," She had another bite of the pie. "It's nothing absolutely new, we're just a school newspaper anyway. But we all agree that discussing the ceasefire with Westalia should not have been an absolute taboo, and publishing this article is one of the small, symbolic ways in favour of that."

Becky smiles at that, "You're doing stellar, Anya."

At this, Anya stops her multi-tasking and looks at her, "Thanks Becky." Sheepishly, Anya can feel her silent support for her honest work.

A group of boys started to fill her peripheral vision, a bunch of blondes and brunettes, dragging their heels or rushing through, loud, some appearing slightly sheepish to enter the hall and temporarily catching the attention of the students already eating there. She knew all of them all to well at this point, it's hard not to. But one is tall, athletic and calm, jet-black hair who caught her eye immediately.

They locked eyes, he nodded politely to her and looked away before she returned the gesture.

They're no longer fighting, bantering, or calling each other names. As they grow older, busier, much more conscious of how embarrassing it looked to other people, they kind of drifted apart. Despite staying in the same dorm, and attending mostly the same classes, things are different. They can no longer afford to be so ignorant about things like that.

"What do you think is Damian's zodiac sign?"

"Huh?" Anya blinked and turned to face Becky again.

"Damian, I'm into astrology these days. Hey, maybe our school newspaper should add that as an ongoing section."

"I doubt the academic board is gonna let unverified science like astrology in our paper, they hate fun. Wait."

"Yeah, you're right. Hahahaha."

"What's today's date?"

"September 15th, why? That time of the month?"

Yes, maybe, her cycle isn't really regular since she's still very young. But most importantly, she hadn't been paying attention to her telepathic power cycle. Today's new moon. But then again, she hadn't been paying attention because her activities hadn't required that particular ability. She hadn't relied on the power in exams either, except on instances where she was absolutely stumped on a few last questions to pass. Eh-hem. But really, over the years, exams in Eden get harder and more complicated and she'd rather 'turn off' her ability for a while to study and just get through the exams in peace.

Ah well, long day ahead. It doesn't look like it'll affect her schedule.

——

Her robe is making flapping noises as she runs, and she runs with all her might, as hard as her mary-janes can take her. Through the damn elegant falling leaves and the cold sweats, she runs and runs. But the Cecile Hall dorm house is still so far away. Why is this campus so big anyway?! What is it for?!

Her eyes shifted from time to time towards the large new moon hovering just slightly on the buildings. She'd love to stop and admire it if only she's not literally risking another tonitrus bolt if she got caught not being in bed by now. She's late to bed a lot, a lot. Sometimes it's a situation beyond her control, other times, like this one, well, she has no one to blame but herself.

She had to miss the time to work on the newspaper to catch up on some school work, and when she finished, there was a pile of editorial work she had to do, along with her own piece. It could be postponed, really. She has time tomorrow when she's meeting them again. But this work is what she's been looking forward to do all day! So twenty-minute review lasts an hour, and an hour lasts until whatever time it was when the janitor started to turning off the lights. Since the janitor can report her for still being in the building, she jumps out the window and hopes no burglar is testing that particular window cause it's definitely not locked from the inside.

She manage a breathless smile when she realizes her dorm house was just a few hundred meters away, and the lights weren't out yet. But she ran into a person who was also running at full speed, and it hurt. Anya shrieks involuntarily as she falls to her side, her other side hurts and her head hurts but the other, much harder body is almost unfazed. The other person came from a small pathway not illuminated by the lights, probably some jock though. Since that pathway leads to most of the sports facilities.

"Forger?!" He almost shrieks back, almost.

Oh, she thought.

"Hey Sy-on boy, how you doing."

He lifted her by the arms to make her stand up and they ran again. The lights in the house are out. They're officially late late.

"What are you still doing outside, Forger."

She shrugs. Well, the best shrug she could manage while running anyway. "Working on the newspaper, you?"

He doesn't grant her an answer, maybe cause it's too obvious that he's still in his tracksuit. She's aware he's been on the football team for a while now. Aside from the student government. She's aware of him, despite their distance.

"Should we go through the back or the front door?"

"I think the chances of stumbling upon dorm mother is higher if we went from the back. Her room's near that area and besides, the light from the living room is totally off. Meaning she's not in the front living room." Anya points at the chandelier seen through the window, not turned on.

"It's closer to the stairs too, alright."

Anya told him to take his shoes off to avoid silly incidents.

"You seemed to have a lot of experience with this."

"I'm late a lot."

He gave her a worthwhile glance for someone who is risking a tonitrus bolt by the second.

"It's cause of your short legs."

Damian's room is on the 2nd floor, while Anya's is on the 3rd floor. Dorm mother's room, Mrs. Hayward, is on the 1st floor, and apparently, she's still in the kitchen. It's perfect, the stairs are pretty far from the kitchen and much near where they are, they just have to get there and it'll be over.

But she doesn't stay in the kitchen. In fact, they hear the sound of her tea cup shaking coming near, which means it is time for her to do embroidery by the fireplace. Exactly where they're hiding in the dark right now.

Damian instinctively hauled Anya into the linen closet by the hall and it gave him just enough time to close the door slowly and without a sound.

She whispers, "So how have you been doing."

"Shut up Forger!" He hissed.

They can hear her putting the teacup on a high table by the fireplace, the creaking of her comfy chair as she sits down.

They're both standing still, facing each other in the dark, trying their best not to accidentally make a sound, or breathe too hard. The closet is actually a few meters away from the fireplace and is not within the direct vision of where the dorm mother sat. If it weren't so quiet, Damian and Anya would have had a good chance of escaping the closet and went upstairs already.

Anya hears the radio is on, and the dorm mother is finding her favourite station. It was a weekly comedy show. Anya sighs, between the fire crackle, the distance and the radio sounds, she allows herself to relax a bit, they're allowed to make tiny little humane sounds.

She realize she almost leaned into Damian's chest with the sudden relief. Almost.

Damian fingered her arm lightly, pointing down to try and sit down. When she's starting to bend though, he stops her shoulders to stay still and gestures he will try sitting down first, to see if it'll fit their legs at all. So he holds his bag to avoid making a sound, and very slowly crosses his legs on the floor.

Anya soon follows, and they set their bags aside with very little space they have. Both their legs and knees are touching, but they're allowed the luxury of leaning their heads back to the walls behind them.

They both sigh interchangeably, and Anya can feel his leg muscles contracting with hers when it's his turn. It's warm on her legs that's only covered in stockings.

It's fairly dark, and there's only a line of unstable light from the fireplace below the door, but Anya can feel Damian is watching her. She wanted to stare back, but then what? What would that entail?

She felt his fingers again, hesitantly this time, on her knee. He leaned into her to whisper, "Are you cold?" and it gave her an unrecognized shiver. Maybe she is cold.

"A little bit." She barely whispered back, only making the 'tiny' gesture with her fingers to him. He moves a little, like he's trying to emulate a blanket from nowhere. Anya can see through the dark he's considering pulling one of the sheets in the shelf, but Anya palms his knee. "Never mind it, Sy-on boy, it's fine."

Instead, she moves slowly to gather her knees in a hug, and Damian moves forward to cover her stocking-covered feet with his legs. She's not any warmer, not by much. But it helps that it's Damian who is here with her, not a random fellow Cecile Hall she's barely acquainted with.

She can't read his mind tonight. She hasn't been able to read his mind a lot lately, with the lack of time and space they've been sharing. Even when she does, it's no different from everyone else's, or her's for that matter. He's thinking of re-prioritizing his homework, focusing on a certain training, considering essay topics. But when he does look at her, like this, like in the dining hall, like the times he helped her wordlessly and discreetly, she can read him pretty easily. It's still the same, just like the way it used to be.

The radio show is wrapping its bit, promising another episode, same time next week. And Mrs. Hayward seemed to gather her needlework, turning off the radio, putting out the fire, ready to call it a night. They're both preparing to make their move.

A slight, clear series of knocks came from the front entrance. Dorm mother gets up to answer.

"Evening Mrs. Hayward, sorry for the late visit, but if you may, I would like to check on the leak you mentioned so I would know what to bring tomorrow morning."

"Oh of course! It's on the 2nd floor, you see-" She lets him in, and Anya can hear them both climbing the stairs.

Damian opens the closet door and gestures to Anya to head to the kitchen. They don't feel safe in the kitchen, so they put on their shoes and went outside.

"I guess we can't go back to the dorm for a while." Anya sighed. Well, what now? She looks up to Damian, who's looking at the lights on the tower of wisdom.

Mindlessly, Damian's feet brought him towards the dark pathway. Past by the small fountain area, towards the rather dark, but better-lit, open football field. Anya follows him without thinking too much either. Sometimes, she NEEDS to listen to what the other person is thinking, to have a better reaction, and to be more considerate, agreeable. But Damian doesn't seem to think about anything in particular anyway. It's just muscle memory for him to walk this way.

Neither of them knows why, but they are approaching the football field tribune. Out of any other facilities, it just seemed to be the safest for them to loiter around without getting caught.

"Do you practice here too? Or only on matches?" She climbs to one of the tribunes, and Damian follows.

"Only on matches, or approaching one. Mostly we practice on that beat-up field over there." His thumb pointed at the unkempt ground behind their shoulders.

"You sometimes use these benches to practice though, right? For stamina or endurance, or something." She sat down on a step she deemed high enough to see the entire rather small, yet historical stadium built by the generous alumni.

"Yeah, or something." He chuckled at her remark, came to stand behind her and enjoying the same view. "Didn't you cover one of our matches? How are you acting like you've never been here?"

"I didn't, was just covering for my team, holding the camera, that sort of thing. Sports really aren't my fortè." She ignored the part where he noticed she was there, one time.

"So, do you like playing football, Sy-on boy?"

"Of course I do, it's one of the best school football teams in the country."

"No I mean do you like playing football, every day?"

He considers his stance, "Yes, very much so."

"It's fun, gave me the balance I'm looking for between studying and exercising."

"Hm. I just thought you would have chosen baseball since that's what Demetrius excelled at."

He visibly tensed by this. Suddenly he's no longer her partner in crime of loitering around campus past bedtime. No longer Sy-on boy, so easy to read. He looks almost aloof, all of a sudden.

Anya met Demetrius once. They were still in their 5th year, a biology professor was taking them to see one of the rare plants collected by the academy. It just so happened to be located near Hamilton Hall. The elementary students were crouching by the plants, making sketches, and writing down identifications.

Hamilton Hall's 11th year, group 1 just happened to cross the terrace connecting the buildings. One of Damian's friends just happened to see Demetrius and yelled his name at Damian. They all look up to the famous imperial scholar of their generation, destined for greatness, Demetrius Desmond. Damian hardly looked at him. Ewen's reflexed shouting to Damian must've reached the first son, but neither of them hardly acknowledged the other.

Despite Damian's lack of response, the girls of her year are fawning over Demetrius in an instant. He has all the classic attributes they fantasize about him. The height, the shiny jet black hair, the sharp, handsome features. But something about meeting Desmond's oldest stuck on Anya in a different way from the other times she encountered an imperial scholar. Demetrius has an unusual, determined strive to his young age. His steps, gaze, and immaculate uniform seemed to be unwavered by anything and everything coming his way.

Mentioning Demetrius is a highly risky move from her. Especially since she can't read his mind on how to best make amends. But she can't help it. Something about the night, this night, in particular, loosened her guard. She's too tired of carrying all the strained expectations by the day. Of not being the weird, peasant girl, of constantly having to prove her worthiness to sit with the rest of these kids, something in her brain lets go without much thought.

'What's easy at night, in the morning never is.' A line from a book she read last year. She guessed this is what it meant, one of them at least. Maybe the author was speaking of a forbidden rendevous with the governor's daughter, but also maybe, he's talking about the things we would never say in sober daylight, with the whole world (their world) bustling beside them. It's much easier to keep those inside during the day.

And maybe Damian will finally snap at her again, with harsher, clearer words of insults to never speak to him again. He'll leave her by the tribune like an idiot. But she supposed, the night also loosened him to lower his guards.

"I chose football because of a test result. I always wanted to participate in Eden's sports team, and they think my physique is best for the football team. But mostly, I was relieved, I really don't want to join a team where they would constantly compare me to Demetrius."

He looked her way a few times, hesitating, but blurted anyway. "I read your articles. They're very enjoyable to read."

It was mostly sleepiness, but she leaned down to place her head on the hand on her knees and turned to look for his eyes. "Why thank you, Desmond. It means a lot coming from you."

Unlike during the day, Damian stared at her back without stammering. Without blushing, without losing control of his facial muscles. It's easier to get closer, talking to him, blurting out things, worrying if the other is cold, to touch, hold their gaze.

The spell broke when Anya heard radio sounds moving. A campus guard with a flashlight, just below the tribune. They're not technically in danger with his position being way down on the ground outside of the stadium, but it encourages them to move away from their current spot. Anya meant to pull him by the sleeve on his arm, but she missed and her fingers came in contact with the skin on the back of his hand. Oddly, Damian's fingers are closing on hers.

Anya led him to go under the spectators' tribune, where there's a bunch of tiny, pathetic benches to sit on.

"What is this? Since when are these things here?"

"It's been here for generations, Sy-on boy. Most of the football team members and some outsiders know of this spot."

"Why are they spending their time here instead of on the proper benches?"

She tries to hide her smile at his incredulity. "Sometimes teenagers do things they don't want the campus to know, Sy-on boy."

She pulled up a bench near her for him to sit on. Reluctantly, he let go of her hand to put away his shoulder strap duffle bag in order to sit next to her. His knee looking for contact with hers immediately.

"Some of them went here for underage drinks, hanging out, bringing a girl, I guess."

"And you knew this by word of the streets or..." And Anya noticed the slight blush he had on his ears.

"I'm not... I never had such relations with anyone. I'm pretty busy, as are you." She looked away at their shoes for a bit. "But, yeah, I heard it by the words of the streets. The perk pretty much came with being in the journalism club, you just hear these things. I supposed they never told you this, then?"

Damian looks kind of embarrassed about this. "Don't think too much of it. I think they're mostly just scared of you, or what you might think of them, drinking and all." To his relief, Anya reached for his hand again, this time it wasn't a mistake. She can sense him feeling left out, realizing he appears way too serious to have fun with the rest of his teammates. Her fingers graze confidently on his, and he immediately catches them, as if he's afraid. Of what? She doesn't know.

It's almost like she doesn't need her telepathic ability at all with him. For someone who obviously makes great efforts to distance himself from other people, he's pretty darn easy to read.

She giggled at the butterflies he was causing in her stomach. "Besides, I think those are more common among older kids, you'll no doubt be invited to one of those secret clubs around next year."

"Secret clubs huh?"

She gasped, "You know, I've heard a rumour about Demetrius and a secret club, you wanna be in the know?" she offered deviously.

He looked at her again, the hesitation felt like a mere excuse to blatantly lock eyes with her again. She can feel he likes it a lot, this pure, unfiltered tension between them.

"Fine." He squeezes her hand without looking away.

"Remember that time he made the youngest MVP in the history of the national school league?"

"Uh-huh," He leaned back, bringing her knuckles to his face.

She can barely think with his breath on her fingers, but she can't just stop the story there. She brought it up!

"Well, they said he was in such a winner's euphoria that he broke the rule and made out with a girl for the first time just behind the Radcliffe library."

He actually kissed the back of her hand this time.

"I get it, Radcliffe library is pretty far from his dorm, and the park behind it can be pretty secluded with the trees and bushes. One question though." He leaned forward, folding her arm with his.

"You mentioned the secret club, which part of it has anything to do with the secret club?"

"Oh, right!" She felt like a mess. Calm Damian has the ability to make her act like normal Damian, who would've thought?

"I forgot to mention, they're both members. Which makes it exciting at the time trying to guess which member, since it's a pretty exclusive club. My source says she's a year older though. But, of course, these are all just rumours. He's just like you, famous for being a strict, straight line to rules. I'm not surprised if it's just a made-up story to make him sound more relatable to the rest of us, plebeians"

They fall into a slight silence, he's still bending forward on his seat, her entire arm within his embrace.

"He made MVP in his 10th year." His other hand reached for her hair, grazing her ear, finally reaching her cheek. She snapped her eyes shut, lips falling into a straight line, not trusting herself to make any response.

"I guess I can beat him in some things."

He brings her face in to kiss her eyebrow and eyelid. He hovers for a second, waiting for her to open her eyes. She does just that and knows exactly what's going to happen.

"I like you, Forger, I've liked you, since-" He cut himself short, thinking words are a waste at this point and tasted her lips instead.

It was a shy, stammering series of kisses. A series of beautiful trials and errors, but it was pure, with no pretense nor guilt. She decided to touch him back, smoothing her hand on his chest, feeling the school's crest on his uniform sweatshirt.

They finally fell into a comfortable rhythm, and it was heavenly and electrifying all at the same time. Her brain has been foggy for a while and she's starting to feel out of breath. She started to push him by his chest, wanting a pause, but he palms the back of her neck, bringing her face closer.

Anya managed to separate their faces for a bit, "Ah, Dami-" but she supposed it only encouraged him since he moved even forward.

"I can't breathe, please." He stole one last kiss, before allowing her to breathe.

She theorizes that this must be the magical first kiss everyone is talking about.

"I like you, Forger. I like you." He moves the palm in his hand to his chest, so she can feel his thumping, thundering heartbeats, before kissing her knuckles again.

Feeling recovered, she let her head fall to his shoulder in blissful peace, knowing she wouldn't be denied of the comfort. "I know Sy-on boy, I know."

"You knew?" He let out a humourless laugh.

She nodded to his shirt. "I knew, for a while."

"I'm being too obvious, then?"

"I'm the only one who noticed. I think."

"It's hard, not talking to you these past few years. I thought it'd make things better, for me. I thought you'd fade into the background, but you never do. You make a name for yourself, I shouldn't have expected anything less from you." He smiles at her hair.

Neither of them wanted to leave, but they should. They really should. Tomorrow is another long day. Damian have early morning practice before the rest of the campus drag themselves to wash their faces. And so they head back.

Hand in hand, sneaking through the already dead first floor, and second floor. Damian's not allowed on the third floor, but he made it anyway. One last kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight." He sent her in.

There's so much to talk about between them. The new moon phase usually lasts around three days, therefore her mind-reading ability most probably return by tomorrow. She has to be honest with him about this. They'll get to discuss if they want to have a proper, public relationship or not. Since they barely have time to spend with each other anyway. Is this the right time to date? For either of them?

She can't wait to ask him everything he's been up to too. For him to explain to her, plainly, his relationship with his family. What's it like growing up with Demetrius? Or did they get separated at his birth? She's sure her tonitrus bolts will come up, and he'll mention that she can afford it, but he can't, he absolutely can't. But she wants to hear it from him as someone he can be vulnerable with.

She wants to say, she'll watch more football if he wants her to. She wants him to know that she knew about his collection of romance novels, that she wants to know what's so appealing about those readings to him, to compare notes on the character dynamics. She wants to admit she has been good friends with Ewen since July following the successful launch of Sputnika from Nortica, and have been geeking together about the possibility of space exploration in the future when humankind will be able to know more of the world out there. She can't wait to share her life with him, and for him to share his with her.

There will be a time when she'll need to explain that her father isn't her actual father, that both of her parents aren't exactly as they seem. And she will have to emphasize that her infatuation to them isn't fabricated in any way. There will be a time, further in the future, when operation Strix will come to an end. Where the goal is met, or no longer feasible.

But just like any other night before this one, she washed her face and headed to bed. A girl with her past has learned not to take this peace and luxurious bed for granted.


Author's note:

i don't bring up strix mission at all because i don't know what to do with it, lol. despite the manga having been going on for more than 10 tankoubon, the main plot feels like it's still in its early stage. I feel like i don't have enough the maneuver it into my fic, yet.

Maybe someday when we have more developments, I'll write another one that's more relevant to the mission. For now hope you enjoy the fruit of my impulsiveness. I wrote this when I'm supposed to be finishing a twiyor wip.

tell me what you think! is it too fast paced? any parts are too long or too short? I'll appreciate any kind of input