I am so sorry I am a few days late! I had an extremely busy weekend with family, but I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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Almost as soon as they passed the threshold of the installation, Anya felt the tension in her body melt away as she stared at the lights around her.

It was incredible. Even though the room was dark, Anya could tell that it was much larger than she already thought it was, and it was clearly designed to be a walking experience. The path stretched out in front of her, framed by dark tree-like silhouettes that dripped with baubles of light. It was like a secret garden.

From where she stood, it looked as though each part of the path had some sort of theme, or motif, and their job as the viewers was just to walk through each part one step at a time.

Easy. She could do that.

Before her, tall stems of stained-glass roses pulsed a low red, while fairylights danced and glittered around them, almost giving the appearance that they were in a grove of fireflies. She couldn't take her eyes off any of it.

They walked slowly, and suddenly the landscape around them shifted into what was clearly meant to be a winter theme. Stalactites of shimmering blue lights hung in strands around them, giving an ice-cold feel that took her breath away. It felt like she had been transported to another world, to a beautiful fantasy land, and she wanted to stare at it forever.

Damian wanted to stare at her forever.

The installation was clearly the right choice of distraction for her, but for Damian, he thought his heart was going to beat so hard out of his chest, it was just shy of torture.

Anya was clearly enraptured by the lights around them, and as they strolled through each section, each theme, all Damian could see was the ever-changing light on her skin, and how it completely illuminated her beauty in a way that he could never have imagined. Soft hues of pinks and blues, lustrous tones of red and orange, vibrant shades of green and purple - all danced effervescent across her skin and her hair, and her eyes. Every moment they sparkled with a colour even more dazzling than the last, and he became even more lightheaded.

Had she even noticed that they were still holding hands?

They came to a clearing area that had been set up with giant lanterns, all occupying different levels, so it looked like the lanterns were flying around them, twirling and pirouetting in the sky on the wind.

Anya stepped into the centre of the clearing, letting go of Damian's hand in the process, and spun in a circle, her face a picture of reverence and admiration.

"Damian, look at this!" she laughed, and his insides swirled with so many emotions, many unidentifiable, and most too much for him to bear.

Since when did she start to call him by his name?

Another laugh pulled him out of his thoughts. "Isn't this amazing?"

In the soft glow of the lantern lights, she looked ethereal, like something from another world. His chest tightened as he stared at her.

"Yeah. Amazing."

In an instant, she reached for his hand, and Damian felt the simultaneous and polar urges to both pull his hand away and pull her close, and he was frozen with indecision, but at her smile, he felt that he couldn't help it. If he could just see that part of her for one more minute, one more second, then anything was worth it.

She pulled him towards her, and his legs nearly buckled beneath him, but it appeared that she knew what she was doing as she flicked her wrist in such a way that it forced his arm to pull around her, and it took him a long second to realise what she was doing.

She made him twirl her.

Did she want to… dance with him?

"Wh-what are you doing?" he squeaked, almost sure that his knees would give way. "What if someone sees?" As if that was what he was really worried about.

In answer, Anya grinned, and continued to lead him into the dance. With a start, Damian realised that he recognised it. No orchestra played the music, but Damian could mimic the beats in his sleep, and automatically he found that as he finished another twirl, her hand found his shoulder, while his palm naturally landed on her waist.

He sucked in a breath, but it was whisked away as he continued moving with Anya. He was suddenly thankful for the hundreds of hours spent over the last year learning how to dance, both in and outside of school. Even though his mind had stopped working, his body moved on muscle memory alone, and he completed the dance steps with her, slowly spinning and twirling, all the while hoping that she couldn't see his face blazing with heat.

"Who cares if someone sees?" she laughed. "If it looks like we're having fun, maybe they'll join in!"

Oh, that was one of the things he loved about her.

So damn optimistic, and she didn't give a shit what anybody else thought. She just wanted to enjoy herself and do her own thing, and if it was with her friends then even better.

Damian thought back to when Becky had clearly orchestrated leaving them alone together, and something twisted in his stomach.

Anya would have been just as happy dancing with all of her friends. Maybe even more so. The only reason that Becky had put so much effort into leaving them behind was so that she could give Damian a chance to confess, but whose benefit was that for, really?

Certainly not Anya's.

Damian sighed. Damn it. Either Becky really was looking out for him, and had been the whole time (which would actually make her a 'friend'), or she was living vicariously through them. Either way, he wasn't so sure what Anya even wanted.

She acted so close to him all the time. She clearly liked to hold hands with him (otherwise she wouldn't be doing it), even holding onto his arm or elbow. She liked teasing him and talking with him, and then there were the times where she had confessed her secrets to him, and he listened, and she seemed to be genuinely relieved, or at least something about that helped her out. He had seen Anya at her most vulnerable, and she had shared with him some of her deepest secrets.

Even now, she had pulled him into a silent waltz, and he thought he could burst into flames at any moment.

For a normal person, they would take that as signs of interest, but Damian knew better not to let his hope rise too far.

Anya was… Anya. Even if she couldn't be completely honest all the time, she was genuine, and authentic, and wore her heart on her sleeve. She stated her opinions clearly, and usually made her wants clear - especially if it was to do with peanuts, or Spy Wars. Except, she stated no opinions on love. She had no history with boys. Or girls. Or anyone else. So he had no idea what she could even want in that regard.

He remembered with regret a time when somebody dared confess to Anya. They were quite brave about it really, but Anya just tilted her head in devastating confusion, like she genuinely didn't understand what was happening, and she ignored them, and walked away.

Damian had almost died on the spot, just from vicarious embarrassment, and it made him want to confess to her even less. If she gave him a stone cold rejection like that, he didn't even know if he would be able to live to see the next day. He would rather turn into ash on the spot.

No. It was safer for him to never tell her, but at the same time, the constant contact, the looks from everyone else, the way his body caught alight if she even looked in his direction, exhausted him completely, and he wanted it to end.

But the only feasible way for it to end would be to tell her.

Which was just not an option.

"Ow, Sy-on! What's wrong?"

Damian sucked in a breath as he realised that he had unintentionally squeezed Anya's hand a little too hard in his tension. "Sorry," he breathed, and consciously relaxed his grip. It didn't escape his notice that she was back to using that stupid nickname.

He slowed his pace, and Anya followed suit, and soon, she had followed the natural arc of their movements, and they ended up with their backs pressed together, each looking out to different sides of the clearing, where the lanterns flickered around them.

Damian's arms hung by his sides, while he held onto Anya's hands behind him. He was momentarily glad she couldn't see his face, as he was sure that even in the warm lamplight, the redness could be seen from a mile away.

"Thanks, Sy-on," Anya murmured, and she gave his hands a grateful squeeze. "I do feel better now."

"N-no problem," he stammered, and he thought his heart would go into overdrive.

They stayed like that for a moment, watching the lights around them dance and flicker, and in the silence, Damian wondered if the right moment had arrived.

Could he do it? Could he tell her what had been in his heart for so long?

But as he opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, or even how he would say it, nothing came out. Even worse, he felt like the words were trapped in his chest, bursting to escape.

He could. He couldn't. He could. There was no way. He had to. He couldn't -

Damian would never know what was going to come out of his mouth, because at that moment, it was Anya that broke the silence.

Damian. I'm so sorry. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't.

He froze, completely taken aback by Anya's sudden melancholic shift. What prompted her to say this? What was going on with her?

I know it's not fair on you, but no matter what I do, I can't change what's going to happen. I don't have a choice.

His feet had completely rooted to the spot. It was so unlike Anya to say things like this. He wanted to interrupt, ask more questions, but it seemed that she wasn't done speaking.

I'm so sorry.

She said, finally, and Damian wondered what that was all about, and why she sounded so guilty, but he wasn't about to let her walk away feeling sad.

"It's okay," he said, in a voice just above a whisper. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. If you need to take your time, that's okay too."

He tried to squeeze her hand, hoping to give her a sign of reassurance, but his hand grasped empty air as Anya pulled away sharply, and he sensed that she had whirled to face him.

Wrongness prickled over his skin, and Damian turned to look back at her, and froze. Why is she looking at me like that?

Anya stared at him like she had just seen a ghost. Her eyes wide in horror, and her lips shockingly parted. She swayed like a tidal wave had rolled through her.

"I didn't," she wheezed, and it looked like she might lose her balance at any moment. "I didn't say anything."

Then it was Damian's turn to be confused. He furrowed his brows as he assessed her. It didn't seem like she was joking, and he knew how bad a liar she was.

"What are you talking about?" he breathed, but a heavy dread had set in his stomach. "You just said -"

Anya jolted, and she looked like she had just been slapped. "I didn't say anything!"

"I heard you," Damian insisted, but as the words left his lips, it occurred to him that the impossible had happened.

It occurred to her too, and she lifted her hands to massage her temples. "No way. There's no way. That's impossible, it can't be-"

Damian couldn't watch her spiral, so he did the only thing he could think of. His hands shot out and grabbed her wrists pulling them away from her face, and in doing so, inadvertently pulling her closer to him.

"Anya! Stop panicking," he burst out, trying not to panic himself. "It'll be alright, we'll figure it out, we always figure it out, so just try to stay calm, okay?"

Anya stared numbly, but saw the movement of her throat as she swallowed, and she nodded at him carefully.

His face is so close, he's still holding my wrists…

Damian dropped her arms like they were hot coals and stepped back with his palms open. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

She looked so stricken, he almost couldn't bear to look at her. All he could do was try to minimise the damage. They would figure it out later, he was sure of it, but in that moment, he needed her to be okay.

"I think I need to sit down," said Anya tightly, and Damian's chest constricted with worry.

There were seats outside the installation, and it didn't take long for them to find the exit. At that moment, Anya sat on the bench right next to the entrance of the museum gift shop with her head in between her knees as she tried to steady herself with deep breaths.

Damian returned from the shop and held out a bottle of water to her, and a pack of tissues, which she took gratefully, before she folded back over herself and tucked her head between her knees again.

A few people trickled in and out of the gift shop, and glanced warily at Anya, before retreating when Damian glared in their direction. He wanted to tell them all to mind their own business, but they hurriedly shuffled away before he could ever get round to it. Probably a good thing, really.

The urge to rub soothing circles into her back was overwhelming, but Damian refrained from touching her. Not only because he worried about the stares of the museum-goers around them, but also because of the hypothesis trickling into his mind: both times that he heard her voice in his mind, he was touching her. He wondered if the phenomenon - whatever it was - was triggered by physical contact, and if that was the case, he didn't want to stress Anya out any more than she already was.

Damian stayed silent, turning it all over in his mind, as he watched Anya try to keep herself from panicking.

He guessed that she had never meant for him to hear any of that, and it left a heavy feeling in his gut. She had sounded so genuinely distraught, so apologetic, and it sounded like she knew something bad was about to happen - but for some reason, she felt unable to tell him. How much longer would it be before Anya realised that she could trust him?

Damian had already listened to her other secrets, and he hadn't told a soul. Was that not proof enough for her that he could listen to what she wanted to say?

"How are you so calm?" Anya said quietly, jolting Damian out of his thoughts.

While she still had her head between her knees, breathing quietly, she didn't look away from the floor, and Damian's gaze lingered on her before he spoke.

"I don't remember the last time I felt calm," he muttered hoarsely. "I'm just… waiting, I guess."

"Waiting for what?"

He shrugged, but then belatedly realised that she couldn't see him. "Not sure. It just feels like things are always changing so fast, I don't really have the energy to keep up. So I'm just going to wait it out. See what happens."

He leaned back against the bench. "Don't get me wrong, I'm surprised too, but… it makes sense, I guess."

Anya shot up in surprise, but groaned at the sudden movement. "Oooh, I should not have done that," she said in a strained voice.

Wordlessly, Damian handed her the bottle of water again, and Anya took a few gulps from it, before turning to face him once again.

"What about it makes sense?"

"Because-" he breathed. "It's already gotten stronger, right? You can hear more people, it's harder to turn it off, and you can listen over further distances."

Anya stared at him incredulously. How did he remember that?

Damian continued. "So, it makes sense that whatever happened in the -" he glanced around him surreptitiously and lowered his voice to a whisper, "in the lab, is still taking effect, and it's still changing how your powers work."

"But this is-" Anya couldn't find the word for it, "so different. I never imagined I could-"

A familiar voice tore through the crowd: "Hey guys! There you are!"

Both Damian and Anya jumped at the same time.

Becky ran towards them, beaming not-at-all smugly. "You guys disappeared for a while! Everything alright over here?" She set her eyes on Damian in particular. "Any news to report?"

He glared stoically at her. "No."

"We're fine," Anya cut in sharply, and then she stood up. "Let's go join the others."

As Anya brushed past Becky's shoulders, Becky raised a questioning eyebrow at Damian. "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing!" Damian sighed, exasperated, and his heart clenched when he thought back to what he wanted to tell her. "Absolutely nothing."