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Damian isn’t much of a people person. He is amicable and he could be charismatic when he wanted to be, yes, and all in all, his social skills are just fine. But that didn’t mean Damian actually enjoyed socialization much. Back when he was still a tryhard for his father’s approval, he took making connections as a challenge because it was important training for a to-be politician.
Those were the long bygone days though.
Oh, and he totally dropped pursuing politics. Damian might be a disappointment to his father, but at least this disappointment can avoid living a disappointing unfulfilling life.
(Old habits die-hard and he still feels an aching hole about how his father had never acknowledged his past efforts, he’s starting to think that maybe it was for the best that he distanced himself while trying to build his own foundations separate from the person his father wanted him to be.
Anyway, all was good. The dismayed looks his father gave him during their family’s monthly dinner still stung a little—christ, he’s spent a good chunk of his life vying for his approval —it was something Damian could eventually learn to shoulder. Tying his entire life to something that felt more akin to faithless duty was not.
And at the very least he wasn’t disowned.)
Getting through university he went. Damian isn’t bound to his father’s approval anymore, but he did have expectations for himself. One of those expectations was to always be the best, or at least try to be. He’s still working on his own self-criticism but being a perfectionist was something he has always been.
That is exactly the reason why Damian was up now. Two in the morning and in need of another cup of coffee but he would rather spare himself the heart disease since he’s already had six throughout the day. Mid-term exams were coming, and he is nothing but precise. He would be damned if some understudied theory or forgotten equation will hinder him from getting the highest grade on their quarterly exam.
However, his eyes were starting to shut despite his own efforts to keep them open. One more second and Damian might just consider taping his eyelids up, but even the words in his textbook were starting to make zero sense no matter how much he repeated the passage.
So, to wake himself up, Damian comes up with the idea to leave his tiny apartment and finally utilize his balcony. Maybe the chill of the night air will wake him up, maybe . Or if not, then maybe dangling over the railing will. The fear of falling would definitely send his blood pumping, thus fuelling him for another hour or so of studying until he finally has to sleep because he has a class at eight in the morning tomorrow.
Peeling himself away from his work desk, Damian eyes the area through the transparent sliding door warily. Anyone could jump him from above and he would be none-the-wiser. His own life could end the moment he stepped out—but then he realizes that while he still has the Desmond name, he was already far removed from the political scene to even be considered important to even warrant an assassination attempt. Everyone probably just saw him as some random guy now.
He steps out into the fresh open air (or about as fresh it can get in the city) and slides the glass door behind him close. He walks up to the metal banisters and leans over, his forearms coming in contact with the cool chill of metal. It’s exactly the edge he needs, making him shiver slightly.
There isn’t much to look at from up there, honestly. Although he expected just as much since the apartment complex resides in a metropolitan area so, of course, he’d be looking over buildings. Though, as unavoidable as that was, he is hoping for one thing.
Stars.
Damian looks skyward.
“Oh…” He mutters quietly. It isn’t exactly what he imagined, and mind you, he already had substandard expectations. He finds himself frowning. He can see the bright, round moon but her usual companions were obscured.
He feels bad. Doesn’t the moon feel lonely?
“Hey, you a fan of stars too?”
He jolts, surprised by the voice of another person. Any self-respecting person wouldn’t be awake at two in the morning outside of normal circumstances, and apparently, he isn’t the only one with zero regard for their health tonight.
“Don’t bother though, you won’t be seeing much from here.” She trails softly.
Damian’s head swivels to his left. It was his neighbour, although he didn’t know her name. Pink fluffy hair with weird black horns on her head. It was dark and both of their lights weren’t on, but he still catches how her eyes sparkle. Just like stars plucked from the sky.
He often saw her on the way out and sometimes when he was arriving back at his apartment, after all, it’s inevitable since they are neighbours. Unlike all the other past encounters, she is dressed in a plain white shirt paired with a horrendous pair of baggy neon-green flannel shorts.
His initial thoughts of her before were that she seemed like the type to always be stylishly cutesy—or, at the very least, she gave off that impression. Cotton candy hair and cherub features. The last time he saw her, approximately a week ago, she was wearing a flowery yellow sundress.
Damian decides that he hates the shorts.
“Wow, isn’t it supposed to be 2 AM?” He jabs, criticizing tone seeping through.
His neighbour narrows her eyes at him. “It is. What’s a guy like you doing up at 2 AM, huh? Spying on someone, perhaps?”
“And what am I supposed to spy on? Empty air? The nice brick wall over yonder?”
Surprisingly, instead of being affronted, she laughs. All high-pitched and snorty and loud like she’s forgotten that most of their neighbours were asleep right now. It peeves him, or so Damian tells himself.
“Sorry! That probably wasn’t a nice thing to say to someone I just met. I was just kidding, honest.”
Oh, was she? It is increasingly hard to be rational so early in the morning.
“Of course you are.” Damian pinches the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, you know how late it is.”
“You don’t say. Dude, look, it’s dark but even I can see the huge bags under your eyes. Maybe you should go to sleep.”
The woman leans on the railing that is facing him. She is staring at him, a frown marring her face. The prideful part of him thinks it was none of her business what he does and does not do. It’s his life and if he decides to go on another all-nighter for their exams that was two weeks away, then that was on him.
The sensible part of him, and the one that she is attempting to appeal to, wants to obey and crash onto the warm sanctum that is called his bed.
(Damian is running on two hours of sleep. It is a miracle that he hasn’t collapsed yet.)
“I can’t. I’m studying.”
“Oh, wait—what for?” The woman asks, inquisitive. Then she shakes her head. “Actually, let’s unpack that another day. Whatever you’re doing, give yourself a break.”
He spreads out his arms, gesturing at himself. “I already am? Why do you think I’m standing out here?”
“I meant a different kind of break. Hmm, probably something that involves a bed and a pillow or two.”
“Uh-huh, sure. Maybe when I’m six feet underground.”
He scoffs and crosses his arms in the name of being stubborn. The pink-haired girl across from him just looks at Damian unimpressed.
She even dares to roll her eyes. At him?
“You’re quite the feisty one, aren’t you?” His neighbour puts a finger to her chin, staring into the sky. She hums, low and quiet, before jerking upward and raising her finger up. “Well, don’t fear because Starlight Anya is here to help!. Come over here for a second.”
She beckons him to go towards her, calling out to him with that irritating pstsstsst you do with a cat. It was annoying and grating to the ear, but Damian still steps closer to the railing, tentatively poking his head out, curious about what she is doing.
“Closer.”
He leans over the metal railings more, his head inching inwards the space separating their balconies. Now his head is well over the railing, but he still doesn’t get what she is trying to do.
Damian peers down and sees nothing but a long way down with nothing obstructing his sight of the cold, hard pavement.
“Eyes up here.”
He raises his head and in a split second, a solid, flat force collides with his left cheek, producing a loud whoosh sound that resounds into the silence of the night.
Damian’s hand comes to cradle his cheek before his mind could even catch up with what just happened. He could feel the left side of his face radiate with stinging, red-hot pain.
“What did you do that for?!” He cries out, tears pathetically forming in the corner of his eyes. Damian wanted a wake-up call, but not in this way. Never in his life has he been slapped by anyone, not even by his father and for it to be done to him by that girl—
“Oh no… I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hit you that hard— I just thought it could shake you awake!”
Damian sends her a scalding glare which makes her shrink in guilt. “Um— I could give you ice, yes! Does it still hurt? Just stay there, alright?”
She looks so frantic and the petty side of him is satisfied because she deserves it after laying her hands on him in such a manner.
But he decides to spare her the effort.
Now that his brain was more or less grounded now that he has the pain on the left side of his face to keep it from floating up into the heavens, sleeping is probably the most sensible decision Damian could make at this moment. He doubts he’d get anything done when he is this tired. He also doubts this supposed five-minute break is enough to bring back his focus.
Hell, he even has an 8 AM class after this. Damian is nothing but persistent, yes, but he still has limits. There is no way he is going to survive the next day with only the two hours of sleep he had the other day.
“Don’t bother. There’s no need so you can stop looking like a kicked dog. I’ll get to bed.”
He sighs. Tonight he’ll be the bigger man. A respectable person doesn’t make small mishaps bigger than they should be. Although he is pretty miffed, the sudden exhaustion he feels heavily outweighs the other.
With the weariness of an old, old man, Damian mutters “Let’s just pretend this didn’t happen.” He spares one last glance at the girl who just literally slapped him across the face and decides that her mortified gaze is enough of a punishment.
Damian saunters back into the safety of his plain old studio apartment, switching off all the lights and crashes on his mattress, the wooden bed frame squeaking in protest against the sudden weight.
That morning, Damian wakes up feeling like absolute garbage. He had it coming. He feels woozy from the lack of sleep but luckily he was no stranger to this. He spots the laid-out textbook on his desk and closes it, stacking it on his bookshelf.
His fingertips lightly caress his left cheek, right where he was hit a few hours ago.
Pink hair and horns. Did she say her name is Anya?
Later, he notices how he wasn’t lagging in note-taking during the lecture unlike the previous couple of days. And he only drinks a whopping three cups of coffee to get him through the whole afternoon.
When Damian gets back from his last block, he recalls how his neighbour told him last night to give himself a break and it inspires him to unceremoniously collapse in his bed yet again and sleep off the rest of the day.
He guesses that he fared slightly better today and it was something to thank his neighbour. Then Damian remembers the neon-green shorts and swallows up all his gratitude.
Damian really didn’t mean to bump into his neighbour again, but it seems like their last encounter wasn’t the only time they’ll be brought together at god-knows-what hour.
“Woah, look who’s back again!”
An overly familiar voice greets him the moment he steps out into the patio.
His pink-haired neighbour— Anya, or that’s what she called herself—is leisurely sitting on the floor of her balcony, her back leaning against the metal railing. He notices how she’s wearing something more respectable tonight compared to the last. A sleeveless top and black knit shorts.
Anya looks at him, a small smile creeping on her face. Now that she’s facing the light, he can now clearly see that the girl’s eyes were green and adorably large, something he’s never had a good look at before.
“Oh. It’s you again.”
“Hmph, why do you sound like that? Anya will have you know that her presence is a literal blessing to anyone.”
He snorts at that, remembering the last time he was humbly blessed by her presence. Damian gives her a once-over again and notes that the dreadful shorts she wore a day ago are gone. Good riddance.
She notices him looking and sniffs, crossing her arms. But eventually, Anya relents and mumbles out a repentant apology for the last incident.
He doesn’t say anything further, and they bask in absolute silence for the next minute or two. This is the five-minute break he needs, especially since he now has to work twice as hard since he let himself slack off too long the other day.
Soon enough Damian forgets that he is in the company of another person. But then Anya speaks up, her voice tentative yet curious.
“So… what brings you out here at 2 AM again? Studying?” She asks. Then follows with a joke, encouraging casualness. “Or maybe you’re the type who thinks they’re way too cool for sleep.”
He lets the question marinate. During that time he ponders humouring her, a sarcastic jester on the tip of his tongue. But he didn’t have time to stay around for too long so Damian answers a clipped ‘studying’.
He hears a frown in her voice. “Quite studious, huh? I don't think that’s healthy.” Then the concern turns into something more sheepish. “Though I’m not one to talk, I guess.”
The quiet peace of the deep night envelops him, something that he didn’t have the chance to appreciate the night before. Damian focuses on the overview of the path underneath their hanging balconies. At how the tiny lampposts illuminate the road and how it looks so spacious and desolate without people casually loitering around the sidewalks and how the absence of a busy afternoon’s chatter is as disorientating as it is oddly soothing.
“And hmm… you do seem like the bookish type.”
Hm. Well, she was trying to fill the silence between them alright. He has half a mind to tell her that she shouldn’t bother, but then he supposes that it would only be right if he at least tried to reciprocate the effort. He doesn’t want to seem like he’s ignoring her.
“How about you? What are you doing up?” Damian asks, resting his chin on his hand as he glances at her with mild interest.
“Finishing up an essay.” She sighs. “At least the midterms are almost over. Spring break really can’t come any sooner!”
Ah. Anya looks like she is his age so she would be a student too naturally. There was also a big chance she’s a student at Berlint University since it’s the only college school near the area—and it wouldn’t be too farfetched since a lot of the students who didn’t get to board the dorms look for apartments they could rent instead. Case in point: him.
“Ah, it seems like we’re both preoccupied. Well then, goodluck with your work and I’ll go back to mine.”
Damian sends a curt nod in her direction, barely noticing the way she pouts in response. Nonetheless, he hears an enthusiastic ‘bye’ as he crosses the area back to his apartment.
Padding to the wall, his finger hovers the switch to the lights on the balcony. His eyes linger for a moment, seeing that his neighbour’s own lights were still on. She wasn’t going back yet? Eventually he moves on, flicking the switch before walking back to his desktop.
The night after, Damian encounters her again at two in the morning. With the way she doesn’t viscerally react this time, the odd thought crosses his mind that maybe she’s come to see this as a routine. He swears her eyes twinkles in something close to delight upon seeing him too.
It makes him ruminate about the situation he’s in.
Their first day wasn’t as smooth as it could’ve been and he can still feel phantom pain from the slap if he focused hard enough. It didn’t bring out a petty sort of feeling inside him though which makes Damian realize that he isn’t as sore over the whole thing as he usually should be.
He has no qualms about her. And it was late at night, so if he decides to stay outside a little longer than five minutes then he blames it on his poor perception of time due to lack of sleep.
It’s another night of staying up, although it isn’t until next week will their dreaded exams officially start.
Damian stares up at the ticking clock and sees that it’s exactly two in the morning. He yawns, stretching his arms out before standing from his chair. He peeks out the sliding door and spots that the lights on Anya’s balcony are on and illuminated under is a familiar petite figure partly hidden by balusters.
It has become a thing between Damian and his eccentric neighbour who was also often up late just like him. He’ll admit that the company wasn’t half bad.
“Morning!” Anya greets, all smiles and cheers even at such a late hour. It is absolutely ridiculous and he sincerely questions how deep her resolve to stay awake goes.
Damian takes a seat on the balcony floor, mirroring the girl across from him. He’s learned that it was more comfortable this way since he and his companion tend to share a chat, if only for a short while.
“You in the same boat as I am?”
“If you’re talking about studying then not exactly. This genius right here is cramming a presentation for tomorrow.” Anya replies, jabbing a thumb to her chest. He knows she is trying to play it cool, but the way she wasn’t facing him told him that she might have been a little embarrassed.
And, proving him right, she scratches her head, following with a “Totally my fault though, ‘cuz I’ve forgotten all about it until just a while ago.” that was more akin to a hushed mumble.
Damian couldn’t quite relate but he still tries to be sympathetic. “It happens to the best of us.” Not him, he has a colour-coded note listing all the tasks he needs to prioritize in alphabetical order from the nearest deadline to the farthest. “You seem like the type to pull through last-minute projects so I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
In all honesty, Anya seemed like the type to do everything last minute but he didn’t say that out of politeness.
She breaths out a laugh, green eyes smiling. “Thanks! Queen of procrastinating right here in the flesh.”
“I figured. What are you doing out here if you’re cramming though?”
“Heh. Wouldn’t you like to know?” Anya sends him a wink, which he returns with an eye roll. Then she bursts out into laughter again. “I’m just teasing! Same thing as you, probably. Breaks are important, you know?”
“Yeah? Be careful though.” He warns, knowing how much of a slippery slope that excuse is. “Say, how long have you been out here?”
“Um, I dunno—like, maybe fi—shoot! You’re right!” She stands up abruptly. She puffs her cheeks at him and stares at him with faux annoyance. “You dare you distract Starlight Anya like this? You’re sabotaging my mission!”
Then Anya flashes him a grin, slipping out a hurried “See you then!” before rushing inside her apartment.
Damian’s lips curl into a smile filled with amusement. She is definitely a total airhead.
It’s their third day through the exam week and it seems like their nights weren’t complete without their balcony breaks at exactly two in the morning. Damian had found out that Anya is a student at Berlint University when she had ranted about a familiar name of a teacher after the day of her supposed presentation.
They’ve been meeting consecutively without fail, especially during this particular week where studying is the most crucial. They didn’t have the same exact attitude towards academics, not at all since Anya seems to learn in a different way compared to his more straightforward style. But, they do share the exact bad habits brought on by their desire to stay afloat.
“How are you holding up?” Damian questions, peering through the railings.
Anya simply grimaces, doing a so-so motion with her hands. “How about you?”
“Great, actually. Thanks for asking.” And he's made sure that that would be the case. If he did any worse then he wouldn't be here right now. He'd be having a meltdown in front of his work desk, frantically flipping through pages and pages in preparation for tomorrow's set of exams to make sure he's got it perfect.
“Aw, oh to be as smart and intelligent as you.” Anya dramatically places a palm on her forehead he could see that she is grinning from ear to ear. “Glad to know that one of us is fairing well though.”
Damian knows she is being genuine from the clear sincerity of her voice. It brings out a small smile in him.
“Shut up. I’m sure you’re doing fine too.”
This time Damian is the early one—or more specifically, there is no pink-haired girl to greet him when he steps out. It feels odd since she has always been here without fail for the past two weeks.
Anya might already be asleep. It’s the most logical conclusion because she doesn’t really have any reason to stay up with the exams out of the way. That is his assumption at least. And he doesn't blame her for it too since it is only right for her to catch up on her rest. Their little nightly chats were already enough proof that she put in as much effort as he did for the exams these past few days and he’d be damned if that doesn’t warrant a break.
It’s awfully lonesome out here without her voice filling the silence with her casual chatter though.
Damian contemplates returning back inside and just going to sleep. The fresh air out here is nice, he’ll admit, but he isn’t sure he was willing to stay out here just for that.
Though, as if the universe itself is telling him to stay right where he is, the lights turn on from the neighbouring apartment.
Damian sits up from his lax gait and straightens his back, his shoulders tensing up. Unconsciously, his hands move to clutch the railings, feeling warm and clammy against the sleek metal.
He shakes his head, warmth creeping up his face as the feeling of embarrassment overcomes him. This is nothing, he thinks. He is just excited to see his unlikely friend.
After what seems like forever, the glass door eventually slides open, revealing his neighbour in all her glory. He notices how her hair was slightly dishevelled and how her eyes are uncharacteristically puffy. Even her signature horns were absent. Anya comically turns her head left and right as if she is searching for something.
Then her gaze comes to settle on him and her face immediately lights up, light red dusting her cheeks that he swears he’s just imagining in his reverie.
“It’s you!” Anya exclaims.
“It’s me.”
She smiles which makes him smile.
For a moment, Damian thought she wouldn’t come.
“Soo, Mr. Studious, what are you doing up?” Anya questions casually, taking a seat down on the balcony floor. It’s slightly infuriating the same way it is funny, the fact that this is the closest they can get to being next to each other. “Were you perhaps… waiting for me?”
The teasing smirk on her face brings a flare of heat up Damian’s cheeks—even up to the tip of his ears. Hopefully, she’ll chalk it up as a late-night hallucination.
“As if. I just couldn’t fall asleep.”
An excuse slips out of him easily. He’ll never admit it out loud, but he did stay up just for this moment. He tells himself that he was just honouring the feeling of solidarity between the two of them but in reality, he truly just enjoys having a late-night buddy to talk to. More than he should, actually. And now that they didn’t have any work to go back to, he hopes that they’ll be able to enjoy an actual lengthy chat.
“Ohh, and here I thought you came out just for me.” Anya says, rubbing her eyes. “I actually fell asleep early, can you believe it?” As if to prove a point, she draws out a long yawn.
He has guessed just as much, at least.
Anya continues. “I didn’t mean to, but since the exams finished the urge to just melt into a puddle has become so strong.”
Damian feels the bitter taste of disappointment crawl up his throat but he swallows it up. This is about her, not him. “Then what are you doing here? Get back to sleeping, they say it’s good for your health.”
“Pfft, you’re not one to talk, you know.” She giggles under her breath. “Besides, if some kind of force woke me up at two in the morning just to find you here, then maybe it’s meant to be.”
And how what was he supposed to follow that with? A chuckle? A love confession? The mere thought that maybe it was destiny pulling them together was too romantic for him to even acknowledge because he did not in fact like his neighbour that way.
Anya, noticing the lack of response, flushes a little. Clearing her throat, she finds a way to change the topic. “Anyway, um, what do you want to talk about then?” Delicately, she tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear.
(Damian finds it cute. Sue him.)
He uses the opportunity to ask about how her exams went which she tries to avoid answering, but soon enough Anya relents because of his annoying persuasiveness. “I think I… bombed mine.” She deadpans, staring off into space.
Damian raises an eyebrow which she doesn’t seem to appreciate with the way she puffs out her cheeks indignantly. “Seriously? Then what was all that studying for then?”
“Well, not all of us can be super smart as you, okay?” She sniffs, wiping imaginary tears off her eyes. “I’m just hoping for a passing grade. Or a miracle. Whatever comes first.”
He sighs. Damian doubts it was as bad as she said, mostly because she has spent so much time studying that there’s no way it didn’t pay off. “Cheer up. At least the hell is over, right? It’s time to relax.”
“I guess you’re right.” She says, looking dejected. Then Anya snaps back up, face void of the discouragement she just had a few seconds ago. “Oh, I just remembered something! Wait here, won’t you?”
Damian watches her run back inside and emerge a minute after, but this time she was holding pudding cups in her hands. “Ta-da~! A reward for the both of us for surviving the midterm exams!”
She leans the farthest she can against the railing, holding out the cup alongside a tiny plastic spoon. It reminds him of their first night, back when she’d slapped him back into cognition. Call it a trauma response but he’s wary of the offer, still remembering how much the slap hurt.
Anya rolls her eyes. “C’mon, are you just gonna stand there? Take it before it falls!”
Damian takes the cup.
It was tiny, just like all pudding cups are. He hasn’t tried any before, but mostly because he always had the more expensive alternatives right within his reach. Even with his years of being independent, he still hasn’t let go of his habit of preferring high-quality things.
“Hm? What is it?” Anya asks in the middle of peeling off the seal. “Don’t like chocolate?”
“No…”
“Then don’t be shy! Dig in!”
Chocolate was his favourite, but that isn’t the thing that matters the most to him. With the way Anya was looking at him expectantly… how could he say no? There was always a first time for everything. He peels open the package and scoops a generous amount. Tentatively, he spoons it in his mouth.
It’s sweet and creamy. Not even remotely as rich or thick as homemade pudding, but it gave Damian the same warm feeling as it did when he ate rice chocolate pudding in front of the fireplace during winter when he was a child. Except it’s twice as heartening now that he has someone beside him to share the experience with.
Or it might just be the way Anya was smiling so wide at him.
It was two in the morning and here they were, talking about nothing and everything over small cups of pudding. It was… pleasant.
Later, when they finish eating, Damian notices how she is intently staring at the tiled floor beneath her feet.
“Is something wrong?”
She juts her bottom lip out and puffs her cheeks. Much like a chipmunk.
“Anya wants peanuts.”
She turns to face him and he sees her green eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“...?”
Damian drops by their local supermarket later to restock the dwindling food supply in his fridge. Mysteriously, he finds himself over at the tenth aisle where all the assorted snacks were. With his basket in tow, he scans the shelves for something he could buy. He comes across jelly beans, chocolate chip cookies, and even mini-muffins.
Eventually, his eyes land on a bag of Super Oishii peanuts. Damian stares at it for a moment before he throws it into his basket and continues on to the counter.
That night, Anya almost blows his eardrums out with the deafening squeal she lets out after spotting the pack of peanuts he was holding.
He denies that he bought it just for her.
Spring break. Someone functional would take this time to fix their broken sleep schedule, but alas, Damian was but a sad, sad little boy who’s already given up on doing that a long time ago. He’s spent a great amount of time staring up at the ceiling in the dark trying to fall asleep so now he just lets fate decide: if the universe allows him to fall into slumber earlier than 3 AM then that’s great! But if it doesn’t then he’ll just shrug it off.
Besides, it wasn’t all that bad these days.
“I’m telling you! I don’t even know how people wake up so early anymore. Like, the earliest my body can take is eleven!” Anya complains, holding the metal bars like she were in a jail cell instead. “It should be made illegal to wake up before that. Like, isn’t it supposed to be break?”
Damian snickers—yes, actually snickers, Ewen and Emile would be blown away—at his neighbour. He reaches out through the railings to flick her button nose, making her exclaim a loud ‘hey’ as she jumps away from him.
“Oh, pack it up. Just because you don’t have a functional sleep sched doesn’t mean you should drag others into your…” Damian looks her up and down as if judging her. “...incapability.”
She pouts, turning up her nose at him peeved, “Hmph, and here I thought you would take my side. You’re just a super meanie, no other explanation!”
“What are you, five?”
Anya blows a raspberry at him.
It's a new topic for them every single night.
One time, they talk about Spy Wars which also turns into literal war because Damian, a manga reader, insults the way the original story was adapted by the series. A series that Anya reveals to have heavily enjoyed as a kid and is willing to die on a hill for. Having a debate at two in the morning isn't what he exactly wanted, but it did give him a trip back to memory lane. Soon the debate turns from a coherent exchange of strengths and weaknesses of the series to an exchange of personal jabs at each other. The night doesn't end with them arguing though—instead, Anya invites him over to her small apartment some time so he could watch the series with her. Damian's half-tempted to take the offer, but he decides to settle with a vague "I'll think about it" so it doesn't seem like he's too eager.
At one point, Anya tells him about her best friend. A girl named Becky whom she met in her first year who she immediately connected with. In turn, Damian tells her about Emile and Ewen who've both stuck with him since he was a spoiled little kid and has never left his side.
There comes a night when they don’t talk. They do their own thing. Him, reading a book, and her sketching on a drawing pad with nothing but a pencil and an eraser in hand.
Damian appreciates the company.
In between reading, Damian would constantly feel a stare linger on him for a moment, but when he turns to look, Anya is either scribbling intently on her pad or looking the other way, sometimes twirling a lock of hair around her finger. He contemplates asking her about it, a question right at the tip of his tongue. Just to confirm if his suspicion is correct. But he has a feeling that if he did then she'd scurry away like a rat so he holds his mouth shut.
Later, when they're about to part ways, he asks to see what she drew.
Anya snickers and reveals a badly drawn version of him with horns and an angry expression.
Damian, fuming, says that he doesn't look like that. Anya simply laughs all chime-like and tells him goodnight before slipping back into her apartment.
“Are you trying to get noise complaints?”
Damian levels her with an unimpressed look while she only meets him with a smug, uncaring smirk.
“Heh. C’mon boy next door, why not live a little?”
Anya drops the pink case (it looks a little worn out, probably something that she’s owned for a long time. It was adorned with various stickers—and wait, is that a bi flag? And a bondman sticker?) on the floor and zips it open, retrieving a polished wooden ukulele.
She tells him to sit tight for a little while since she needs to tune the instrument first. Damian, being the gentleman he is, obliges. It isn’t like he has anything else to do anyway. That was also the only reason why he notices how she sticks her tongue out whenever she’s focusing or how she wrinkles her nose whenever the note turns out to be a tad out of tune whenever she strums a string.
“There we go!” Anya exclaims, excitedly holding the uke up. “So, any song requests from the audience?”
He shrugs. He didn’t really know a lot of songs. “Amuse me.”
“Heh. In that case…” Pointing a finger at him, she gives her a self-satisfied look. “...prepare to be amazed by the shining Starlight Anya, my beloved boy next door…!”
She ends up playing her I’m Yours by Jason Mraz which actually does amuse him but in an anticlimactic kind of way. He calls it basic which she replies that if he’s going to be choosy then he should just play it himself.
Damian tries, of course, never the one to back down from a challenge. He thinks he’d be able to figure it out since he’s seen his friend Ewen play the guitar, but he soon realizes that knowledge doesn’t exactly translate into skill as he struggles to even figure out how strumming patterns worked.
Anya ends up trying to coach him. It goes okay, but it definitely would’ve been more effective if she had been close enough to guide his hands. (The mere thought of that happening makes his palms sweat in nervousness so maybe it was for the best that she couldn’t.)
Damian passes the ukulele back to her after and they fall into an easy silence. Then Anya decides to go on a tangent, telling him about the various songs she’s composed since none of them wanted to retire back to bed yet. She even demonstrates some of them while Damian provides feedback.
Of course, she calls him out for being too harsh and even adds that someone like him would never understand the genius of the lyrics she’s composed. In her own words, “I’m simply misunderstood. You’ll see, my art will go down in history!”
He tells her she’s got a long way to go before she becomes a renowned artist. But Damian does tell her, for all it’s worth, that he thinks she’s very talented to be able to come up with her own original tunes and that he was just teasing her a while ago.
Anya brings her ukulele out again. He’s curious at first as to what she could be playing now, unfamiliar with the opening. When the first verse rolls in, he realizes what song it was.
He could only stare at her slack-jawed, feeling heat slowly creep up his neck.
Anya, meanwhile, was unaware of her neighbour’s plight. She strums the strings with a deftness that tells him that she’s practiced the song a hundred times. Her voice, usually brash and energetic, is unexpectedly soft and tender, carefully enunciating every word. It shouldn’t be anything special, really, but he couldn’t seem to slow down his heart from beating loudly.
His cute, bubbly neighbour was playing a love song to him. Just him. At what—three, maybe four in the morning?
Damian tries to study her, trying to analyze what she is thinking at the moment while she is playing because does she even know what she’s doing to his poor heart?! But Anya seems to be off in her own world, eyes glazed with pink dusting her cheeks.
Then she locks eyes with him and smiles, voice turning sweeter when he thought it’d be impossible to.
And she winks at him.
How could he not blush at that?
Damian can’t help but wonder if the performance was intentionally planned or if she just wanted to play it randomly. Though, under the dingy fluorescent lighting where there is no one else but him and her, he fools himself into momentarily believing that maybe she performed the song in a way that was just meant for him.
That morning he plays Can’t help falling in love as background music while he scrubs his apartment’s floor clean. Damian thinks, in between furiously scrubbing the same spot over and over again, that Anya might’ve ruined the song for him forever because the song didn’t sound as sweet as when she had been the one playing it.
Damian informs her that he can play the piano the next night, Obviously, he isn’t able to keep a full-sized piano in his apartment, but he does have a portable keyboard. In his phone.
Anya laughs but doesn’t comment further about his lack of an instrument.
He is severely out of practice, but it’s not like he can play the songs he’s learned like Chopin or Beethoven on his small phone anyway which was a pity. Instead, he attempts to play the easier songs he found on Youtube, which isn’t really a lot but there were only so many notes he can cram into his mind in a day.
He fumbles and presses the wrong notes. Anya even tries to help him by searching up the tutorials on her own phone. In between pressing white and black keys, a thought that it should be demeaning for him that someone is here to see him stumble like this enters his mind. Damian is used to having everything practiced with nothing less than perfect after all.
However, seeing her struggle to keep her laughter down was worth it. Definitely worth it. It makes his heart clench because it’s so dumb and it goes against the belief he’s instilled in himself for years.
But it also feels right.
In the end, it didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to nor was it even as remotely romantic as Anya’s own performance yesterday, but what mattered the most was that he went to sleep with a full heart and, surprisingly, little to no damage to his pride.
After practicing Fly me to the moon for hours on end, Damian tries to play it to her with his expensive yet non-piano-substituting phone. He even sings which he has never done for anyone else. Anya was making him try so many firsts in such a small amount of time that he is a little scared of the effect she has on him.
She made a better singer, but what Damian lacks in skill he makes up with his persistence to get it right. He tries to keep it cool—keep it suave so he doesn’t look like a loser in front of her because he was nothing special without confidence.
At the end of the song, she begins clapping mutely. She greets him with a warm smile, telling him he did great as he rises from being hunched over his phone.
Damian’s eyes zero in on her and he notices how her pale skin suddenly flushes light pink against his gaze. “Um, you okay…?” Anya knits her eyebrows, the round curve of her green eyes softening. The continuing silence of her companion makes her unconsciously reach for her hair, rubbing it between her thumb.
Even under fluorescent lights, her emerald eyes really were just like stars. Shining and warm in the darkness of the night.
The moon peers down at them from the sky. With a deep breath, he lets the words slip out of his mouth before he can decide to take them back.
“I like you, Anya.”
It hangs in the air, saturating the air between them.
"As a friend...?"
"No. I meant romantically."
For a second, she lags, staring blankly at him. Then his sweet, sweet neighbour Anya shoots up from the floor and blooms bright red. Just like a rose in spring, his mind supplements. “I—” She hiccups, her palm coming up to cover her mouth. Then it drops. Her mouth opens and closes, trying to find words to say but coming up empty.
Anya shakily raises a finger towards him, eyes furrowing as she turns red even further. “You—” She purses her lips, swallowing. Then she lunges forward, clenching the railings so hard that it rattles. “I— This is so unfair!”
Anya whines. Whines. Then, like she’s forcing herself, she speaks but her usually brazen voice is so tiny that he strains hard to hear it.
“I wanted… do… first…”
Damian calmly places his phone on the floor and comes to meet her frenzied stare with his own disbelieving one. “What did you just say?”
“I like you.” Anya drops with zero subtlety. Then she averts her gaze, deciding that the wall is looking extra interesting tonight “I don’t know… it’s dumb. Didn’t you ever wonder how I sacrifice my sleep just for you?”
And he didn’t. It never even crossed his mind before even though he does the same for her.
Damian feels like the largest idiot.
“For how long?” He rasps out.
“Longer… longer than this whole thing.”
The pieces fall into place like a puzzle just solved. It makes sense, especially with the way she has been so readily accepting of him since day one. She welcomes him with such warmth that maybe he should’ve suspected that there was something more there than just friendship. Friends greet you with easy smiles—on the other hand, not-friends greet you with bright grins and affectionate glances even in the dead of the night.
“And, and the song…?! Can’t help falling in l—”
“That was intentional.” Anya laughs, a bit bashful.
Damian stares and stares and stares. Anya peers at him, her gaze slowly falling as her lips curl into a sweet, timid smile.
It's odd because, at that moment, the fluorescent lights just cease to exist in his mind. Instead, Damian imagines that it’s the slumbering cosmos that shine down on them, illuminating them with brilliant starlight. Even the moon watches. As if destiny is pulling them together. As if the universe itself is encouraging these two idiots in love.
In an instant, Damian decides that they are too far away from each other.
“I’m coming over.” He simply states before he starts to clamber over the top railing. It’s fortunate how he’s blessed with long legs because it means he wouldn’t have a hard time climbing over banisters that only come up to his waist.
It’s a silly reversal of their roles.
“Are you— are you...?!”
Frankly, he is quite afraid of what might happen if he slips or if he accidentally misses a step. They live on the eighteenth floor. It's going to be a long, deathly fall. Damian clings to the metal bar behind him and fights the urge to look down as he feels the cool night breeze brush against his face.
On the other side, Anya could only gape at him.
Taking a deep breath, he relaxes his stiff body. Then he leaps.
For a moment he feels weightless, but his hands catch onto cool metal and he lands on solid ground. He opens his eyes, not even realizing that he’s had them closed the whole time.
“You’re crazy.” Anya says breathlessly while he scales over the banister.
“For you, perhaps.” Damian breathes, gently taking her hands in his. They’re soft and warm and much, much smaller than his. But that makes him love Anya all the more. Somehow he can’t believe that they were actually here, with a distance easily closed by a single step. By a move of his head.
He squeezes her hands and she squeezes back. "You have the hands of a girl." She whispers.
“Is this really okay?” Damian asks, and she peers up at him with round green eyes framed by long lashes. “I mean, do you even know my name?”
He knows hers, but he’s never mentioned his name to her as far as he recalls.
“Damian.”
His throat hitches. She smiles full of mischief but soon laughs after noticing how tense Damian has become. “I’m not some obsessed stalker, okay? I… I met you on campus once. You lent me a handkerchief, remember?”
He racks his brain because he'd think a girl like Anya would be hard to forget. But then he remembers it. Vaguely. During his first year.
It was raining hard back then. Then a girl soaked from head to toe comes to share the elevator with him. She was shivering, hugging herself by the corner. So he did something, showing a little kindness. He hands her his handkerchief that had his first name sown onto it by red thread.
At that time he didn’t give the encounter much thought, just that the girl had curious pink hair.
And black horns etched with gold.
His eyes flit to the horns sitting atop Anya’s pink hair. He opens his mouth and breathes out a tiny ‘oh’.
In the end, he forgot to take the handkerchief back due to being in a hurry.
“I kept it all this time.”
“You did?”
“Of course! I never got to return it, after all.”
“So you knew who I was this entire time?”
“I guess you can put it that way.” Anya answers then winces, her grip on him slackening. “Sorry, is that creepy?”
This time, it was Damian’s time to laugh it off. To assure her. “No, you’re good. I’m just wondering why you never approached me.” And when he says that, he knows it was true because there isn’t a heavy feeling weighing his stomach down, nor did he feel a clawing sense of unease in his throat.
“Well—! I had a hard time, okay?” She blurts out. She flushes, giving him a wry smile. “You aren't exactly the most approachable. Whenever I had the chance to encounter you, you either looked dead, tired, or angry. Sometimes all of the above.”
And curse his resting bitch face. Truly the bane of his existence.
“So, in a way, this was a dream come true for you, hm?”
Anya’s eyes shine, glowing with mirth that he’s come to grow familiar with over the past weeks. He remembers the first words she’s said to him during that night all those days ago.
Hey, you a fan of stars too?
He is. He has always enjoyed the stellas. And now, the biggest one might just be in front of him. A shooting star that fell to earth, sparkling, shining, and twinkling with glee.
He sees the bright moon from the corner of his eye and he apologizes because he might just take this star for himself.
"Yup." Anya answers and beams at him.
And that’s all it takes for Damian to swoop down and finally, finally close the distance between them with a kiss.
Damian finds himself staying inside her apartment for a while. He finds out that her last name is Forger, and she is the eldest child of a happy, loving family and the proud owner of a Great Pyrenees dog she calls Bond III. Although she left the dog under the care of her parents while she was finishing up her degree.
He’s observing the various picture frames she has hung up on the wall when he hears Anya shakily speak up from the kitchenette.
“Wait, you’re Damian Desmond?! Son of the National Unity Party’s Chairman…?!”
“Yup.” He answers, popping the ‘p’.
The sound of a tray clatter resounds throughout the apartment and he doesn’t stop himself from cracking up.