To answer your questions from last chapter: Yes, Damian heard Anya's thoughts. Anya's powers have been fluctuating and getting stronger, and the next step for her is that she is occasionally able to project her thoughts to another person (through touch... for now).

Can she control them yet? Not really, but it will take some time for her to fully understand them.

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The evening meal was fine, as far as the standards of the students of Eden College went. Becky however, had a lot to say, and she said it with detached satisfaction.

"What kind of hotel in the rural wastelands of Jortmund doesn't put rosemary on their dumplings?"

"That's a bit specific," Damian drawled as he sliced up the vegetables on his own plate.

"I'm just saying, it's the best way to have them, and it's not like they don't grow here! Honestly," Becky tutted to herself. "It's just not the same without them."

Anya reached out and patronisingly patted Becky's back, all the while not taking her eyes off her own food. "There, there," she said with faux-concern. "You'll be home to your chef tomorrow, so you can get as much rosemary as you want!"

Becky hmphed, before she directed her attention to the two other boys on the table. "So? How did you guys get on with the other Cecile girls?"

Ewen choked on his drink, while Emile shrugged his shoulders. "Couldn't tell you. Ewen and Charlotte were shut up like clams while Alice pestered me with questions."

"Hey!" Ewen barked at Emile, with a growing blush on his face. "It was not like that!"

"Oh, cute," Becky grinned, and Damian thought that she had looked far too pleased with herself. It was like she had some kind of sensor for potential couple gossip, and her alarms had been set off.

"But it's not like Alice was interested in me," Emile continued, oblivious to Becky's sly and inevitable advance. "She was only asking about-"

Ewen slammed a hand over Emile's mouth. "The... art!" He wheezed. "And the weather!"

Both darted a nervous glance at Damian, who could not even pretend to be interested in what Alice had asked them.

"Oh, that reminds me," said Damian in between bites, and he reached into his pocket and dangled a keychain in front of Anya's face. "Happy birthday."

Anya's eyes widened and she reached for it automatically, feeling the small weight of it in her palms with quiet reverence.

"Nice try, Desmond," Becky smirked into her stew. "Her birthday is in March."

"It's Bondman!" Anya shrieked with excitement. "He's like a little action figure!"

When she pulled her eyes away from the miniature Bondman in her palms, and met Damian's eyes with a thousand-watt smile, his breath caught in his lungs.

"Thank you! This is so cool! Where did you get this?"

"It was in the giftshop." Damian forced himself to sound relaxed, and he could feel the stares of everyone in the table burning into him, but he tried to keep himself under control.

He would prove to them that he could be casual around Anya. He could be just fine. He didn't need them to keep coming up with crazy plans or asking him inane questions.

When he went to buy her the water at the museum, a line of keychains dangled in front of the cashier, and he had picked it out and paid for it without a second thought. He only realised it once he had exited the gift shop with a bottle of water in his hand and a keychain in his pocket.

He could be casual. They were friends. Everything was fine.

Maybe if he kept telling it to himself, he could make it true.

A shadow moved behind the window, and Anya narrowed her eyes. "I just realised, "she said in a voice that she knew was a bit too high. "I left my phone in our room! I'll be back."

She pushed herself away from the table, so suddenly, and dared not look back at her friends before they realised she was lying. For some reason, they could always tell, and it infuriated her, but if she could just get a head start, then maybe they wouldn't follow her, maybe they wouldn't suspect anything.

Anya beelined to the exit, clicked the door behind her, and moved slowly through the building, keeping an ear out for any movement, but she needn't have been so alert. When a certain voice entered her mind, Anya relaxed her shoulders, and followed it outside.

She followed the presence into the courtyard, and caught his shadow right on the edge of the hotel grounds, where the path met the forest. She had been expecting a disguise, he was always disguised, but it still gave her pause when she saw an unfamiliar bearded face looking back at her, like he had been expecting her too.

But she had noticed him, had heard his thoughts all day as he followed them. Anya took a steadying breath, and decided that she didn't want to feel guilty anymore.

She levelled her father with a frosty glare. "You shouldn't have followed me here, Papa."

Weird, Damian thought to himself as he stared after Anya's retreating figure. He knew that her phone was taken by the lab. As far as he was aware, she didn't get a new one - so what was she really trying to do?

"Have you confessed to her yet?" said Becky, and the brazen way in which she said it made him reel back in shock, utterly aghast that she would ask him so openly.

Becky grinned at his beet red face. "Honestly. At this rate, I think she'll actually figure it out before you ever tell her."

Damian bit the inside of his cheek to keep his retort from spilling out. "I'm working on it."

"Great, could you hurry it up a bit? We're all dying over here," Emile joined in.

"Not you, too!" Damian groaned, and covered his face with one hand. Not that it helped to hide his red face.

"For real," Ewen sighed. "I think my hair is going grey just watching you both."

"Okay, that's enough!" Damian slammed his hand on the table and got to his feet, inadvertently attracting everyone's attention, and he had no idea why he said it, but he just wanted everyone to shut up, and it just spilled out of his mouth: "I'll tell her! Just get off my back, will you?"

He stormed away, and left the three staring after him.

Emile's mouth fell open. "Did he mean right now?"

Becky blew a low whistle of appreciation. "Didn't know he had it in him."

Did he seriously just say that?

Damian fumed as he stormed off. He almost felt like real steam was pouring out of his ears, he was so furiously embarrassed with himself. If he could choose to just disappear into a void and never have to face anyone ever again, he would have. Conscious of the stares following him as he left, Damian hurried out as fast as he could, before turning the corner out of sight and burying his face in his hands.

What was he thinking?

Damian was not ready. Somewhere between the museum and the hotel, Damian accepted that he would never be ready, so there was no point in even trying.

Once that day he was so close to telling her how he felt, probably the closest he had ever been, and yet it still was far too overwhelming a task, which was why he had decided he would just never tell her. It would be so much easier.

Except that… she could literally read minds.

He resisted facepalming himself. How did he keep forgetting that she was a fucking telepath? He wouldn't be surprised if she already knew about how he felt, and maybe she was just ignoring him because it was just a stupid crush and it was so fucking embarrassing, and she would never want to be with him anyway, and she secretly thought he was a waste of time and she didn't like him back at all -

Alright calm down. Damian admonished himself. He couldn't make assumptions about why Anya didn't acknowledge his feelings yet. There was every chance that she was just being polite, or just wanted to be friends, or was waiting for him to say it out loud first.

Damian's brain snagged on that last thought.

Was Anya… waiting for him?

A flash of pink appeared in his vision, on the other side of the window, and Damian's feet followed them on instinct. Maybe he could tell her. Maybe it wouldn't be the worst idea. Maybe if he tried to convince himself that he could confess to her and it wouldn't be the end of the world, then his internal torture could end.

In the stillness of the air, Damian heard a voice.

No. Two voices, muffled, and murmuring in disagreement.

Damian's ears pricked up as he moved on instinct towards where the sound was coming from, but he couldn't hear it clearly, and something told Damian that he needed to get closer. He followed the edge of the corridor until he came to the courtyard, over which the voices drifted softly.

He made his way slowly towards the noise, trying to quieten his footsteps, but as he approached the source of the voices he saw two figures standing by the border of the forest. The dregs of sunlight filtered through the trees, and Damian hoped that was enough to cover his shadow, stretched long from the evening sun. Damian ducked behind the side of the hotel, hoping that they didn't spot him.

Once he had quieted his breath, the words filtered through to him clearly.

"...not doing it!" came a voice that Damian could recognise in his sleep, and although he did take some pride in knowing that he was right, Anya was being suspicious, he also had to wonder: who on earth was she talking to, and why did she sound so upset?

He felt the urge to follow her, to make sure she was okay, but he didn't get a chance to twitch a single muscle before he heard her again:

"You have to leave Damian out of it!"

The sound of his own name froze him in place. She had been dropping his nickname more often recently, but he had to focus. Distantly, Damian knew that he didn't want to eavesdrop - he would rather she felt comfortable to say things to his face - but even Damian could tell that whatever Anya and the other person were talking about, it sounded far too secretive for him to find out in any other way.

"Anya," came a measured and patient voice, and Damian recognised it instantly.

Dr Forger?

"If you don't want to do Plan B that's fine, but it's going to affect him eventually!"

Damian flattened himself against the wall, and put his hand over his mouth, using it to muffle the sound of his own breathing.

"It's not fair on him!" Anya hissed, and Damian's heart clenched in response. Was she … fighting for him?

"It's what needs to be done!" Dr Forger hissed back. "Think about the bigger picture here!"

There was a muffled choking sound, and Damian briefly wondered if she was making an effort to hold back tears. "Damian doesn't deserve this, Papa. I'm not going through with it."

Even if he wanted to, Damian couldn't move. The force of her voice, the determination of her words - it all sounded like she was trying to protect him. But why? It didn't make any sense. What could Anya possibly be trying to protect him from?

Dr Forger's voice came back, a little clearer, and it was saturated with tension, like a teacher trying to be patient with a child. "I know you two are close, so it can be hard making these kinds of decisions -"

"I never made this decision!" she raised her voice, close to breaking point. "Plan B was your idea, not mine! So I'm not going to do it!"

A picture came to him clearly: he could imagine the embers sparking in her eyes as she stood her ground, even the beginnings of a snarl on her face. She could look fearsome when she was angry.

An exasperated sigh. Then: "I never told you to do Plan B-"

"Papa, You never said it out loud," Anya choked, and Damian's breath hitched in his chest. Was she going by some unspoken wishes of Dr Forger? "I still heard you though. And this is the last time I'm telling you to leave him out of it."

"Fine," Dr Forger breathed heavily. After a considerably pregnant pause, Loid huffed in defeat: "I won't ask you to involve Damian."

Conquered by curiosity, Damian carefully craned his neck around the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of the two, and he stilled. Alarm cracked through him like a thunderbolt. A man that looked nothing like Dr Forger stood facing Anya, and while he was the same height, this man had glasses, a beard, and shaggy brown hair. If Damian had never heard this exchange, had never heard the man's voice, he would have thought he was an ordinary groundskeeper - but she had called him 'Papa', and they spoke like they knew each other, and he knew that voice.

Damian could have sworn that they could hear his heartbeat thundering from all the way around the corner, and he did everything he could to control his breathing, to stay as still as possible so that they would never know that he had heard them.

If that man didn't look like Dr Forger, but it definitely was him, did it mean that Dr Forger could change how he looks?

And they kept saying something about "Plan B". What the hell did that mean?

The only time he heard that phrase was in health class when -

Plan B.

Plan B.

Plan B.

Damian's face burned, both in embarrassment and in rage.

What did they do to her at the lab?

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Don't worry, the misunderstanding gets resolved preetty soon, but I couldn't resist it. It made me laugh