I DID IT FAM. ITS TUESDAY AND I FINISHED IT. Featuring: 4k words of teenagers being sickeningly in love

Thank you for all the comments on the last chapter đź’• I was quite scared that you would all really hate Anya for making the decision not to tell Damian, but I really wanted to show how much of a difficult position she was in and how it feels like an impossible choice, so I'm really glad that came across. If I was Anya, I honestly don't know what I would do.

Emma - Damian doesn't know (yet! T-minus ~5 chapters)

Asya - There is a kiss in this chapter! I won't write them going further than that but I do want each one to be special :)

Thank you again to all of you for reading and enjoying my story, and leaving comments when you can. I love writing this story for you ❤️

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It was a long while before Anya's breaths slowed enough for her to gasp the oxygen back into her, and slowly Anya became more aware of her surroundings, of Damian holding her in his arms, and embarrassment flooded through her.

"I'm so sorry, that was so gross," she tried to lighten the mood with a laugh, but even to her it sounded too out of place, and her voice still felt a bit too raw. "I got your clothes all damp!"

She tried to wipe at his shoulder, but it was much closer than she realised. He was warm. Too warm. And he had somehow ended up cradling her as she was in crisis.

Anya's eyes fixed on the spot where her hand rested against his chest, and when her startled eyes met his, heat flooded through her as she processed that she had somehow ended up on his lap, and she flung herself away from him in a burst of panic.

"Sorry!" she genuinely apologised. "I didn't mean to -"

"Are you feeling better?" Damian said, a bit too quickly, and kept his gaze fixed resolutely on the ceiling, obviously trying to avoid thinking about the position that she was just in.

She nodded mutely, before her voice could catch up to her. "Y-yeah," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry I panicked, and clung on to you, and cried on you, and, um…" She pulled her knees in towards her once again, trying to at least cover some of her nakedness.

"It's fine," Damian gave a weary sigh, and got to his feet, still doing everything he could to avoid looking at her. "I told you before, you can cry on me anytime you want…"

She remembered. When she ran out from class and into the corridors, and told him that she was adopted. She had cried on him then. How was it always Damian that saw her cry?

"Here," Damian returned with one of the towels from the rail and wrapped it around her, encasing her in its lovely warmth, before he reached across her to turn off the shower on the other side.

"Thanks," Anya sighed, but even though he had covered her with a large towel, she still felt the compulsive urge to keep apologising to him. "I'm sorry for getting your clothes wet, and um, if I made you feel uncomfortable…" Anya mumbled, and a flush rose in her cheeks.

Damian's pink complexion matched her own, and he rubbed his neck in obvious embarrassment. "Well, I am your boyfriend. So. I can handle it."

"Are you sure?" she teased.

"Shut up," Damian groaned, and helped her to her feet, all the while keeping his eyes averted, more out of residual embarrassment than anything else.

At that moment. They heard voices coming from the corridors, rising in volume as the accompanying footsteps grew closer.

"That's everyone back from dinner," said Damian quietly, and Anya pinched her lips shut as a new wave of anxiety flooded over her.

That's right. She had crawled through the window of his dorm room. They had to stay quiet, or she would be caught. She pulled the towel tighter around herself, as if that would do anything to hide her presence. If only her clothes weren't soaked through.

Damian noticed her wistful gaze towards her clothes, hung so neatly on the heated towel rail, and he cast a cursory glance down at himself. His t-shirt and sweatpants were almost completely soaked through, except for a few dry patches here and there, but at that point he was more damp than not.

"Wait here a second. I'll get us something to change into."

Damian's ears burned red as Anya watched him rummage through his drawers. It still felt far too intimate that she was there in his room, while she stood in nothing but a towel, and he was about to make her wear his clothes, but Damian forced himself to breathe evenly. If he felt awkward and vulnerable, he couldn't imagine how she must have been feeling, especially after what just happened...

"Here," he grabbed some items that he hoped would fit her, and tossed them over to her, before finding something for himself to change into as well.

It wasn't long before Anya emerged from the bathroom with her hair wrapped in a towel, and sporting some of Damian's more loose-fitting loungewear, including a dark pair of sweatpants tied by the drawstring at her waist. The dark-coloured t-shirt was supposed to cover her curves, but she had half-tucked it into the waistband, giving a subtle clue to her lovely figure.

"What do you think?" Anya held her arms out to her sides and did a little twirl. "Do I look cute?"

She did. She looked unbearably cute wearing his sweatpants and tshirt, and Damian had the sudden and powerful urge to grab her and squeeze her, and kiss her so hard that they would both undoubtedly pass out from the intensity of it. Damian flushed at the aggressiveness of the thought, but he didn't say anything - he didn't trust himself to say anything without making a fool of himself.

Instead of voicing his agreement, Damian pressed both of her cheeks together with his fingertips, and squished them together. "Now you look cute," he smirked at her. "You look like a fish."

"Hey!" Anya giggled as she batted his hand away, but seeing her laugh made the knot of anxiety start to unravel in his chest.

For the next few hours, Damian utterly abandoned any hope of studying, as he helped Anya to towel-dry her hair (it's not like he had a hairdryer), and watched her use his comb to slowly work her way through her damp hair, while they took turns talking about nothing in particular: school projects, general gossip, and occasionally bickering, and teasing each other for liking certain things, even though the other definitely liked something stranger. Safe topics, that neither of them needed to be nervous about. Throughout it all, he didn't ask any more questions about her father. He didn't want to cause any more distress, and, if he was being really honest, her panic attack scared the hell out of him, and he didn't know if he had the energy reserves left to help her through another one. He resolved that he would come back to it later - but not today.

After a point, their idle conversation petered to a close, and a strange tension enveloped both of them, as they both wondered how the night was going to end. With the storm not letting up outside, Anya couldn't exactly leave, and it wasn't like he had many options available for her. It was another hour before Damian decided to bite the bullet, and call it a night.

"It's getting late," Damian murmured, and he didn't have the audacity to even suggest sharing the bed. "I'll sleep on the floor, so you can-"

A warm hand grabbed his. Stay with me.

Damian stopped breathing. "What?"

Anya didn't repeat herself, but instead pulled back the cover of Damian's single bed, slid in until she was on the side closest to the wall, and she patted the empty space beside her. She looked up at him expectantly, and he dared to imagine that there was a touch of awkward hopefulness there, too.

Damian gulped, and, very slowly, climbed in next to her. He almost didn't want to turn off the bedside lamp, in case Anya disappeared and it all turned out to be a dream, but soon they were both encased in darkness. It was a tight fit, but only because Damian was certain he had never been this close to Anya in his life, and he was determined to give her as much space as possible, so he teetered his own body on the edge of the bed.

"You can come closer, I won't bite," Anya giggled softly, but Damian frowned at her, though she wouldn't have been able to see it.

He tried to reach for her hand on the bed between them, and he gave her a gentle squeeze. "Anya, it's alright. You can stop pretending now."

"What?" she inhaled in a sharp gasp, jerking her hand away, and Damian tried to correct himself.

"Your smile. I know it's not your real one," and he sucked in a deep, steadying breath. "So, you can stop pretending that you're okay."

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the moment that her smile slid from her face. "I'm…"

"Sorry, I know," he sighed. "If I hear you say that word one more time, I'm going to throw you out the window," they both chuckled at that, "but seriously, you don't have to put on a smile for me. I can tell when you're not feeling good."

Anya shrank into herself, away from him, and Damian couldn't help himself. He shuffled closer to her.

"You hate seeing me cry, though," she said quietly, with such a forlorn tone that he could picture exactly how she would have been pouting. Every time he saw her lips pout like that, he wanted to kiss her.

"Of course I hate seeing you cry," he grumbled, resigned. "I'm your boyfriend. If I had my way, you would be smiling every day, and I'd tease you and make you laugh, and nothing bad would ever happen, but you still don't have to pretend you're happy when you're not, okay?"

"Okay." She opened her mouth, about to say the cursed 'S' word, and she shut it again. "I just… I feel bad. Like I ruined your evening."

It just felt so natural to Damian that he would reach out to her, that he would stroke down her arm with such tenderness, he didn't even question it as their bodies moved inexplicably closer together. Heat radiated from her, but she shivered at his touch, and it made his heart skip a beat.

"You didn't ruin my evening, I promise. I'm always happy to see you," he said quietly, and then he gave her an exhausted smile, "but maybe a little warning next time?"

She nodded silently, and wondered how his face had got so much closer to hers, that she could feel each breath tickling her skin. His fingers continued to draw circles on her arms, tracing the patterns of her scars. Although the wounds had healed, leaving no pain behind, Anya did catch herself wondering if they looked awful, if she should hide them forever, and then suddenly Damian was there, using them as a map for him to guide his loving touch.

Her throat tightened once more, and Anya swallowed hard to try to keep herself from crying again. She raised her hand to Damian's face, wanting to give him something in return for everything that he had done for her that evening.

"I love you so much," she breathed, as she stroked his cheek with her thumb. His warm eyes gazed into hears, and the yellow lamplight from outside highlighted the golden tones threaded through his irises. All the colours wove together in a heated blaze, and she wanted to melt into them.

Although she never expected him to say it back, she couldn't help but feel so reassured by his presence, his voice, his loving gaze, that her fatigue started to catch up to her, and she let her eyes slowly fall closed, ready to let herself be taken by dreams.

"I love you, too."

Anya's eyes flashed open, and her breath quickened.

She knew he loved her, because he didn't deny it when she first asked him, because she saw it in a message that he thought she would never read, because he said it to her in his mind, but he had not yet said it out loud.

That was the first time.

Learning to be vulnerable with Damian was such a scary journey for her, and the last few months had challenged her like she had never been challenged before. Every new secret that Damian learned was another mountain inside her being shaken to its core, and she knew that Damian had just as much trouble coming to terms with every new secret that was being unearthed.

Likewise, Damian had been challenging himself, too. He had become more open than ever before, not only by admitting his feelings, but by allowing himself to get closer to Anya and offer her comfort and support, and even let her comfort him in return, something that had always been difficult for the second son of the Desmond family to do with anyone, even his closest friends.

"Anya," he breathed her name as his thumb brushed underneath her eye, as if he was wiping away another tear, and she reflexively held her breath. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Her heart stuttered in her chest, and she couldn't control her widening smile. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

Damian shook his head gently, and the still-damp parts of his hair curled in front of his eyes. "Whatever you hear from my mind, it's not enough." Although he said it in a quiet voice, he sounded so sure, so calm, that it took her breath away.

She was half-way through thinking about how to reply to him, when Damian's hand had travelled up from her arm and to her neck, and he gently tilted her head up, and Anya managed to gasp for air exactly once before Damian's lips met hers.

Anya closed her eyes as she pressed firmly back onto his mouth, warm and soft and completely hypnotising, and she hooked her leg over his, drawing him even closer to her, as every part of her body crackled with lightning. She snaked her arm around his back and under his shirt, pressing her palm flat against his scorching back. Clouds of desire fogged up her mind and she needed more than anything to be closer and closer still, to have his body on hers so that she could give all her love to him, through her touch, her lips, her very heart and soul.

Something rumbled low like thunder, reverberating through them, and it took Anya a moment to realise that it was the sound of both of their hearts beating as one. Rain continued to pelt against the windows, and the soothing sounds of it made her feel as though all the goosebumps on her body had transformed into soft drizzle against her skin, sending chills through her spine.

Kissing Damian was always beautiful, always breathtaking, heightened by how they both poured all of their feelings into the moment, sharing their love with each other through the power of touch alone. She wanted to kiss him forever, even if she ran out of breath, but already the lightheadedness had taken over her, and she pulled back, breathing hard and fast, gulping air like it was running out.

With their faces only inches apart, Anya stared at Damian through misty eyes, and everything else turned hazy as she focused only on him. Like he was the lighthouse in the middle of the storm, and his shining love was the beacon that guided her to safety.

Anya waited until her breathing fully evened out before she spoke. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

Damian's breath caught in his chest, and he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before he responded quietly. "I… think so."

In other words: he hesitated.

Did he not believe her? She couldn't have that, not after everything they had both gone through to get to this point. What happened to him believing her when she confessed to him? Could it be that Damian still doubted her feelings?

Anya thought back to all the times that she had said the words out loud to him, all the times that she had tried to tell him how she felt. She had caught snippets of his thoughts then, usually wondering if he deserved it, or wondering what he had done to earn it, wondering if he was really worthy to be loved so deeply and openly.

Anya swallowed, and her heart tightened in her chest. Did he hesitate because… he thought he didn't deserve to be loved?

"Do you want me to show you?" she whispered as she twirled her fingers through his soft hair.

When he spoke, his voice sounded thick with emotion. "Is that… okay?"

In answer, she pulled him closer to her, and Damian got the message, leaning his head towards hers, with his eyes closing fast. He was ready, this time.

Anya steadied herself with a deep breath, mentally sifting through memories to show him. She tilted her face up, pressing her forehead against his, and let the memory flood through her.

Crowds of students milled around her in the assembly hall, but Anya did her best to block them out because she was there for one reason and one reason only. Professor Goodfellow handed out awards to a line of students, calling them up one by one from the audience, and Anya waited with her hands ready to clap as soon as one name was announced.

"What's got you all worked up, Forger?"

"You'll see," she shared her trademark grin with him.

Anya knew it would happen weeks in advance. Thoughts from the awards committee had leaked into her in passing, and it was hard work to keep the prize a secret, even though it fizzed inside her like fireworks every time she looked at him.

He must have somehow made his way up to the stage to get his final Stella Star along with his Imperial Scholar's cloak, but Anya only remembered how hard her palms stung from clapping for him, and the surge of pride that welled up in her as she watched him accept the Scholar's Articles that elevated him to his new status. She knew that he liked the regal appearance of the cloak and the Stella Stars decorating him like medals, but to her, he looked like a superhero, shining in the spotlight.

She had witnessed the dark circles of his eyes, the way he drank coffee like his life depended on it, she saw his tenacity and dedication every single day, and finally he was being recognised for his insane hard work. Anya knew in her heart that if anybody deserved to be an Imperial Scholar, it was Damian, not just because of how hard he worked, but also because he was an amazing person. Pride swelled in her heart, along with overwhelming joy, radiating through her so intensely that she wondered if he could feel it from her. She wanted to beam her feelings straight into his mind and into his heart, so that he would know just how proud she was of him, and everything that he had accomplished.

Damian opened his eyes slowly, staring at her in some mix of reverence and shock, but he didn't move his face away from hers. "Did you really feel…?"

Anya smiled softly. "I'm always proud of you, Damian. You worked so hard, but you never forgot about your friends. About us. You have the biggest heart out of everyone I know. Even when things get really hard, and you're scared of what might happen, you never give up, and you always try to do the right thing. You're amazing, and brave, and kind, and that's why I love you so much."

She didn't know if it was possible for his eyes to get any wider, but Damian blinked hard, before he hastily wiped at his eyes, too overwhelmed to speak, but the gratitude poured from his heart, cascading over her. Thank you.

Anya paused mid-twirl of his hair. She knew that Damian had a big heart, that everything he felt, he felt deeply, but she hoped she didn't overdo it. "Are you… okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just…" he sniffed. "It's nothing. Forget it."

"Damian," she said his name softly, like she was trying to caress him with her voice alone. "You don't have to pretend with me, either."

"I know," he sighed, "but you're the one that needs help just now, not me."

"We can take it in turns. I am your girlfriend so…" she shrugged, and the corner of her lips lifted in a playful smile, "I can handle it."

They both laughed weakly at that, but it quickly faded, and Anya tried to stay as quiet as possible to not break his pensive silence, giving him as much space as he needed to confide in her.

"The… memory that you showed me. The day I became an Imperial Scholar…" Damian tightened his arm around her, and Anya's heartbeat picked up the pace, as she saw how difficult it was for him to speak. "That was a really hard day for me. I didn't even notice that you were being so supportive of me. If I knew, I think… I think that day would have turned out differently."

Anya had no idea what to say. She desperately wanted to ask him more, wanted to know why a day that should have been his greatest accomplishment had been so spoiled, wanted to know who spoiled it and why, wanted to know what happened, and suddenly she was back to that moment where she fell into Damian's window, rain-soaked and crying, and Damian's concern washed over her like a tidal wave.

What. Happened?

She wanted so badly to support him, to protect him, to take away his pain and make sure that he felt happy, always. That must have been how Damian felt, too, when he saw her in so much pain, but he couldn't take it away, and neither could she.

But she could give him something else instead.

"Let me show you a few more," she whispered quietly, and was relieved when Damian seemed to welcome it.

One after the other, memories flowed through her and into him: When he held her hand at the cinema, and sparks danced on her skin, even if she couldn't explain why. When she tripped on the pavement and he caught her, and their faces were too close, and she couldn't stop looking at his lips, wondering what it would be like if he kissed her.

When he came to see her in the hospital, and her heart fizzed like fireworks from seeing him. When he knew her ultimate secret and she was scared, so scared, terrified that he would fear her, that he would leave her and abandon her, and her need for him overwhelmed her. When he seemed to accept her and Anya had never before felt a relief so strong, she wanted to cry from it.

When he took her to the light installation, and she pulled him in for a dance, and it felt like her entire body was alight, bathed in the colours from all around them. When she kissed him at her house, and she could have floated away from the euphoria of it. When she kissed him in the gym storage cupboard, feeling finally whole, and knowing that she wanted to make him happy for the rest of their lives. And, finally, every time that they had kissed since, whether it was a secretive peck, or a drawn-out session together.

She let her love for him flow through her, hoping that he could feel it, too. Memory after memory washed over him, over both of them, until they both finally drifted into sleep.

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aaauuuughghh writing this healed me
I warned you it would be sickening lol

Hopefully I can finish the next chapter by Saturday! We'll be back to heavy angst lol