Piano Escapades

by Biscuit760

Summary:

...Anya?"

"Yea?" She stirred, if barely.

"Maybe we should think about tutoring," Loid suggested, "afterschool, you were recommended in a letter."

Dread pooled in her gut, that feeling, met a shameful, embarrassment arose again. "Oh," she hummed, wishing they didn't have to talk about this right now.

In which, Anya finds her escape from the pressures of academic life.

Or, Anya learns to play the piano.

Both parents are unaware of this.

Notes:

Sorry for any typos, kinda threw this together. Lmao

Listened to lots of piano and random stuff while writing this. I forgot what I was I istening to so don't ask but maybe next time I'll list it if I pay attention

Chapter 1

Eventually, at the ripe age of 14, her father had to tell her the truth.

"I'm sorry," a genuine somberness seeped into his tone, "it's unfair to involve a child in this, I understand if...you’d want to back out."

Loid’s voice got tight as he reached the end of his sentence, forcing it out entirely. While he told her it would be fine, his thoughts revealed a whole other story. 

The entire mission relies on her, her papa thought, one no and it all falls apart.

Anya responded how she always had imagined she would, late at night staring at her ceiling as she fell asleep, replaying this scenario over and over. What she wished she could say when Loid's guilty thoughts would reach her, pull at a tiny corner in her brain like an anxious child asking for reassurance while the family would eat at the dinner table.

She knew just what to say.

"It's okay, papa," she put her hand over his, "I'll do my best for us."

Tension escaped his frame with a single breath, his thoughts echoing his relief. Anya jumped into his arms, hugging him tightly, silently promising to be the best student, the best spy, in high society that she could

As Anya progressed with her grades, improved with her music, and made connections in Eden high school; the more secure her spot within the enemy countries high society became. All that information to dig into, the glorious nation's secrets possibly at her fingertips.

The way it worked out was perfect, almost too perfect. Anya had never felt such crystal clarity before, such a purpose, like this was what she was meant to do.

 

2nd grade.

Listen, Anya knew she was screwed.

When the papers were handed out Anya knew just knew.

The room around her went fuzzy, as she zeroed in on the one equation. Her throat tightened, and already, she could feel herself getting teary. Frustration arose, at herself, her dad, at this stupid equation.

Deep breaths. In, out. 

Breathing didn't help the fact she didn't know how to solve the equation, neither did it block the flood of thoughts from others overwhelming her. Everyone seemed so calm, like they knew what to do, their thoughts even reflected it. That’s what she’d think at least, if she couldn’t read minds. She could hear the anxious mutterings of students who didn’t recognize a letter or ended up with the wrong answer, but worse, she could hear the students who absolutely knew what to do. 

Everyone had a different paper, a different equation. Becky scribbled on her page with confidence Anya wished she had, internally going through the steps. 

It was embarrassing. Anya was the only one who didn't know how to do this, and she was also the only one who was crying. Tears dotted her paper, and once again she felt the shame suffocate her. It was clear she didn't belong here, that all the effort her dad put in to get her here was for naught. Her mission, his mission, it would all crumble to nothing because of her inability to just learn-

A thought shot out at her above the dull rattle of the others, why are you even here?

It wrapped her up in anger, frustration, she immediately shot up to find the source. Damian. He had the audacity to look surprised as she glared up at him, embarrassed and frustrated. Look, like, she already knew she was struggling and not doing well, no need to rub it in. 

Whatever, she brushed Damian off, trying to concentrate on the problem. It wasn't working. No matter how hard her brain tried to focus, the paper kept blurring, the equations slipping away with a taunting laugh.

People were getting up to turn in their papers and Anya was still only on the first problem- the room only kept closing in and the pressure in her throat kept building. She held back a sob, trying to power through, completely giving up on solving the problems and just trying to calm herself down.

The bell rang, her heart sinking further and further. People were getting up, they were leaving, they were done. Just like that, Anya was spiraling, insecurities unraveling. Why was she here? Damian was right, why did she do this? Why was she here? Why did Loid or even her think she could do this?

No one else wanted her, always being returned by adoptive parents. She was too quiet, too loud, too nosy, too strange. Every time a new complaint, might as well add too dumb to the list too.

It was only a matter of time before Loid wanted to get rid of her too.

 

"Anya, it's okay, just get what you can done," her teacher spoke up from his chair.

At some point he went back to his desk, probably to grade papers or something, but Anya was too preoccupied by her paper. She wished she couldn’t hear his concerned thoughts, thinking to himself about her performance for the few weeks she’d been there. Eventually they faded to a background buzz as he switched over to grading papers, but she just couldn’t forget. The anxiety wrapped itself around her pencil, making her just scribble what she could even if it didn’t make sense. If the equation didn’t make sense why should she?

When she finished, she did her best to wipe her tears and pretend like it wasn't as bad as it was. Like the ball of stress wasn't still lingering in her throat, like there wasn't a mounting pressure for perfection, fear of being seen for what she really was.

The teacher sighed when she handed in her paper, giving her paper a disappointed look after he looked it over. "Anya, I know you're... struggling," he paused, struggling for words, as if he didn't know what to say.

He didn’t have to say anything. His thoughts spoke for him.

She barely passed the entrance exam , they buzzed, it's clear it's not a lack of effort that's the issue, she's really trying, maybe...

Sometimes Anya wished she couldn't hear other people's thoughts.

...maybe it would be better for her to learn at public school again.

His thoughts whirled around, a mix of disappointment that she couldn't keep up with the curriculum, as well as wondering what was different about her and her classmates. It stung. It hurt because Anya knew that he did care, it hurt him to see her struggle and his thoughts came from a place of concern. 

She hated it.

Every emotion- every thought that pooled out of him, and all she felt was a burning frustration. She was trying, worse? It didn't do anything.

For a minute, with the way he looked at her, it was like he saw through her. Like he knew she wasn't really a Forger, or even a normal 6 years old like everyone else. It made her heart seize up with hope, longing, because maybe he would understand.

Within a few words, the illusion had shattered.

"...Anya, if you can't catch up to the other students," the teacher said slowly, cautiously tasting the words on his tongue, "...you won't have a place here."

Anya blinked, breathless.

The room felt too big, too encompassing, stretching out, making her feel very, very small.

Even though her brain was still processing his first words, wishing it wasn't real, his mouth kept moving. Words were still flying out of his mouth, her world had just been broken and it was just brushed away. She wished he would shut up, that he would just stop talking.

"It's only going to get harder as the year goes on," he explained, "I'm worried that rather than giving you more opportunities for success, this school is just making it more difficult for you."

No, no, no. Anya's hands gripped into fists, her eyes watering again. She struggled to blink back tears, to hold back every disappointed, shameful, and overwhelming emotion that manifested as a lump in her throat.

She could handle it, she had to.

A bout of paranoid terror filled her, a voice whispering, what if Loid heard this conversation? He'd be so disappointed in Anya, that she'd completely failed the mission. What if he heard about the test, came to spy on her to see how it went?

Loid would know now, that she wasn't special, extremely smart, she wasn't a prodigy. So she'd be back to the orphanage, forgotten and alone.

The scene, what he'd say, she could already see it.

"Oh no! Anya failed the secret mission!" Papa would say, melting into the floor in defeat, "I must send her back!"

Fear. So much fear that one mere 4 year old shouldn't have experience. Anya felt so, so cold, like the room had dipped into the arctic freezing temperatures. Even though it was only her and her teacher in the room, she'd never felt like there were more eyes on there. So exposed, so vulnerable, ripped open for anyone to glance in and see, see who she really was. Part of her still convinced Loid was here, and could hear everything.

She failed, thus Operation Strix had failed. Her pretend family would now fall apart.

 

The teacher stopped talking, thankfully, and Anya was escorted out. The halls were empty, students either waiting outside for a ride home or back in the main dormitory.

The silence let her sit in the prior conversation, processing.

It felt like she'd been harshly snapped down into reality, like whatever childish spy fantasy she lived in had been knocked away and destroyed.

That harsh tug into reality was heavy, Anya finally let her tears fall as the shame and fear overcame her. All this was a reminder, a reminder that everything she has is temporary. This family is temporary. This life is temporary, and at any moment, Loid could send her back to the orphanage.

As scary as that thought was, it was also humbling. Something would have to change in order for Anya to keep this temporary life.

In those grand, empty, Eden Hallways, Anya had a breakthrough.

 

When Loid picked Anya up, she was oddly silent, lost in thought. He was used to her chattering away about her day, about being excited to go home, yet she was quiet. Anya could hear his curiosity in his thoughts, him wondering if she had a bad day or was just tired.

A certain anxiety crept in, thinking about the conversation she'd had with her teacher. Loid didn't appear to know, but if he did...

The scenarios popped into her head once again, and Anya had to shake it away. She didn't want to deal with talking about it, or unraveling those emotions.

"Anyas tired," she pouted, leaning against the car door, easing his thoughts.

"Alright, then," Loid responded in a calm manner, so cool. Anya wished she could be like her papa, so calculated, always knowing what to do.

That entire car ride, Anya couldn't help but feel the weight of a million oceans on her shoulders, knowing what would await at home. The pressure would grow, she'd desperately try to be better, only to fail miserably the next day. Her mind spun, trying to come up with solutions.

Did she need to study more? A tutor? Except she already had Loid teaching her. What wasn't clicking?

The drive home was quiet, Anya wondering what to do. Eventually, mentally tiring herself out from the mental gymnastics her plan required, just resting against the door.

The car finally stopped on their street, she could feel the familiar twists and turns, the intuitive feeling that they'd arrived. They climbed up the stairs, Anya holding Loids hand, feeling oddly like a robot. It all felt like such a dream sometimes, getting picked up at the orphanage and becoming a Forger. Yet it was real, and Anya had to get better.

At home, Loid pulled out the papers and worksheets. It made Anya's head spin with an all too familiar sense of unease, it reminded her of the test she just took, her stomach crumpling with the same unease.

"Can... Can I have a break tonight, papa?" Anya asked, voice slightly wavering.

Loid became stern, "Anya, you know we study every night, we can't skip."

It's imperative that she earns these Stella stars.

Those Stella stars. Before, they'd been heavy with the need to succeed, weighted by the pressure and unreachability. More than ever it smothered Anya, choking her as a lump in her throat that threatened tears. It was so heavy, so exhausting.

Anya swallowed down the lump, and sat down to study. Unluckily, it was math once again.

"Anya took a test today," she murmured, looking up at him to see his reaction.

Nothing. His facial features remained relaxed, but she could hear his inner turmoil. "Oh?" He hummed, absentmindedly. Anya knew better.

Internally, Loid was bracing for the test score. Anya grimaced, wishing that it could be different. That she could be different. 

Loid reviewed her test with her. They looked at what she got wrong, and corrected it. Anya could feel herself growing tired, eyes watery, that helplessness a snake, wrapping around her wrist and sliding up her arm to tighten around her neck-

She couldn't breathe.

The pencil shook as the lump in her throat returned, its intensity rather startling. She couldn’t stop thinking about the teacher, the test, those grand Eden halls-

A hand landed on hers, stopping her pencil. Loid, his ocean blue eyes meeting her emerald green, "Anya... do you need a break?" He asked, rubbing his thumb up and down her hand.

Papa could read her so well, many nights of studying and teaching meant he could tell when she was nearing her breaking point. He knew when it was time to keep pushing, and when it was time to let her watch Bondman.

A multitude of emotions came up, the ones she'd desperately tried to hide from. The guilt, the fear, the need to improve, and tears slipped down her cheeks. She sniffed silently, wishing she could just grab hold of papa and never let go. Wishing their family didn't depend on performance, that this could be real.

"Just for a bit," she tried to get out, hiccuping, cheeks burning red from shame.

Loid nodded, a page from a book he’d read about raising children flashed in his head. His internal voice droning on about emotional care was oddly comforting, hesitating momentarily before asking, "would you like a hug?"

Anya tearily nodded, getting up and burying her head in his shoulder. Softly crying into his sweater, ignoring his concerned thoughts echoing around in his head.

Is she getting bullied? Maybe I should have a stakeout at the school-

Anya just let herself melt into her father's comforting hold, reminding herself that she wasn't alone in this. She wished that she could bring herself to say what happened in that room with her teacher. That she could admit how she'd failed, but... it was so difficult .

The words wouldn't come, and the only thing Anya could think about was Loid moving away. Their fake family falling apart. If Anya was kicked out of Eden...

All the scenarios that popped into her head only made her cry harder, more fear and anxiety grab hold of her. It was so clear that she had to improve, so clear that something was wrong with her.

"...are you ready to talk about what happened?" Loids voice sounded in her ear, still comforting despite what he was asking her to recount.

Anya shook her head, still leaning into his sweater, hiding from the world. Loid sighed, "do you want to go to bed?"

Pause. Anya knew she needed to improve, and needed to get better in school. She still had to do homework, and if she didn't do it now it would only stack up even more. Even though she wished to just bundle up under her blankets and cry, she had to be responsible.

With that in mind, Anya pulled back, snot faced and eyes still wet with tears. "No, not yet," she replied, hands still grounded in his sweater.

Loid softened, picking her up into his arms and standing up to the kitchen. "Would peanuts help? Maybe some hot chocolate?"

"Yeah," Anya nodded, leaning on her father's shoulder, grateful for his presence.

Water was boiled on the stove, while Anya was allowed to snack on peanuts while she waited. Loid rocked back and forth in comforting motions, lulling her into a gentle sleep. He rubbed her back in circular motions, grounding her to the present.

All the anxious thoughts that this family would shatter flew away, everything so and utterly peaceful for a few moments. "...Anya?"

"Yea?" She stirred, if barely.

"Maybe we should think about tutoring," Loid suggested, "after school, you were recommended in a letter."

Dread pooled in her gut, that feeling, met a shameful, embarrassment arose again. "Oh," she hummed, wishing they didn't have to talk about this right now.

"I think it'd be easier on us," he explained, "we can talk about it more later."

 

They did talk about it later, after homework was done and Anya watched Spywars. Loid explained he'd received a letter in the mail recommending her, and that she'd be staying after school for it.

“Remember this number, Anya,” he’d said, writing in blue the number on the back of her hand.

Before Loid dropped her off at the bus stop, he reminded her which room tutoring would be in. Anya got on the bus, not really looking forward to tutoring. Yet knowing it was a necessity, still itching to improve. It was as if yesterday, all her fear and desperation poured out of her when she cried, and now it climbed back in again. It was as if she was on a train, itching for it to go faster, watching the tracks crumble under the wheels.

The difference was now Anya wasn't on the verge of tears, feeling much calmer. Last night, she was so worn out she went straight to sleep, but now that she was more coherent, she desperately wished to shove the thoughts away. The thoughts of those around her echoed around her head once again, the bus feeling all more cramped with the extra thoughts. Anya sometimes felt although she didn't have the room for her own thoughts, others filled her head.

Music stuck in people's heads, a distant memory, overlapping voices.

-I gotta remember to get my paper from-

- mom was so mad at me today-

-ugh it's only Wensday-

It was too easy to get sucked into other people's internal worlds. Anya took a breath, focusing on her own voice for a moment. She needed a plan, a way for her to feel more on track.

That conversation with the teacher was painful, but it was also a reality check. Anya needed to apply herself more, something needed to change. Tutoring was as good a start as any.

 

Inclass, Anya often was distracted and airy. The thoughts of other people could be so interesting, some daydreaming about other worlds, some thinking about their life, others of their chores.

With a sigh, Anya tried to yank herself out of other people's daydreams, their inner personal conflicts. She had to remember that they weren't hers, and never were.

-An epic scene played out of two swordsman, meeting their blades with an epic clink-

Becky glanced over at her, Anya gave a small smile. Thoughts of others could be overwhelming, but she could selectively focus on what one person was thinking and tune the rest out. Specifically, George used to distract her with daydreams of wild lands with interesting scenes and with his bizarre thoughts.

Now, Anya searched for a new subject to focus on. Thoughts of a person that may help her study, and immediately Anya zeroed in on Becky.

"Oh, my prince, sweep me away!" Becky exclaimed, being swept up into a tall man's arms.

Becky surprisingly had a wild imagination, conjuring up romantic fantasies that Anya, personally, didn't find too helpful. She pulled herself out, looking for someone with thoughts that were completely focused on class.

Through the chatter, there was one with internal chatter that matched the teacher. Completely focused on the mathematical equations on the board, a voice further in the back.

Damian.

Anya swiveled around, in awe, in hope, seeing his face focused on the board. She focused on him, listening, and tuned everyone else out. His gaze was fixed on the teacher, until it drifted downwards to catch Anya staring. She caught his the pink dusting his cheeks and the glare his features morphed into, she gave him her classic go-to smirk before she swiveled to the front again.

It was kind of funny how his thoughts immediately derailed into a nonsensical string of words, but eventually he got back on track.

Surprisingly, Anya found herself understanding the concepts they were teaching, the equations looking less like a foreign language and more like a tangible means to an end. Damian made connections that Anya tried to follow, writing along with the important points.

 

After school, Anya went to the room Loid repeated to her. The number was kind of fuzzy, it was hard to remember which room he said it was.

E... E something... E-115? ...E-114?

The halls seemed larger than life itself, moreso now that they were empty.

She'd seen the older kids, the imperial scholars, and how they just seemed to fill the space with their presence. They filled the halls with their shiny potential, their imperial capes proof of their pure academic strength. Anya longed to be a part of it, to wear that cape as a reassurance she was doing something right.

Signs passed by, E-109, E-110, E-111....

Right! Loid had written the number on her hand! Anya pulled back her sleeve, the blue marker slightly smudged, but she could make out the slight E-115.

Or was it B-116? It was kinda hard to tell, the ink blurring the letters. An E seemed familiar, she swore up and down it was definitely in E hall. B hall didn't make any sense. Well, E-115 was the door she'd ended up wandering to, and it just felt like she was at the right place.

She'd reached up to the handle, opening it cautiously. Huh. The tutoring room was nothing like she'd expected, different instruments racked in the corners. She couldn't recognize most of them, a few looking familiar like long drums and mallets strewn around. A lone triangle, miscellaneous items for making music.

What she did recognize was the large grand piano in the middle of the room, window blinds pulled over the light. A single ray of the sunset was cast in the room, right on the piano. Casted toward her like a golden path to lead her straight to the instrument's open notes, and Anya couldn’t resist, she followed.

The bench was a little too high for her, her toes dangling over the smooth wood floors. She hit a key, a single note ringing out romantically in the room. With that, she hit another.

What these mysterious notes were named, she didn't know. She knew that it sounded nice, and reasoned that maybe it wouldn't hurt to play while she waited for the teacher and everyone else to arrive.

The door opened with a click, Anya's hands immediately shooting off the keys. Her face paled when she saw who was at the door, hoping to alleviate any trouble she could have created.

In the doorway was Mr Hendrickson, long graying hair casted over his shoulders. His glasses gleaming, reflecting the single light peeking over Anya's shoulder through the blinds. "Anya? What're you doing here?" He questioned pausing for a moment, glancing at the piano she sat at, "are you here for lessons?"

She brightened, feeling relieved at his understanding, "yes!" She exclaimed, "Anya must improve to impress her father!"

Mr Hendrickson nodded, coming toward the piano. "I'd have appreciated some kind of message from Mr Forger to let me know, however I see no harm in a student expanding their knowledge."

I can't say I saw it coming, the girl hadn't appeared interested in music at all. His thoughts floated to Anya, inquisitive, however, she's young, I see why they'd want her to start early.

It occurred to Anya that maybe they'd had a misunderstanding.

"Is this the tutoring room?" She tried, swinging her legs cautiously.

"No, the piano teacher isn't here at the moment, she normally doesn't do after school lessons," he'd responded, "however, Eden does have music tutors available."

In his mind, he mused how Eden wasn't known for their musical producing students, more targeted toward producing successful politicians and those meant to organize their society. Yet, Eden wouldn't have the reputation it has today if it didn't develop programs in other areas.

"...wait, Anya meant..."

I've seen fantastic musicians grow in this room , Anya had a vision of a student in uniform. Her silver hair pulled back, Eden uniform pressed so it was smooth as butter, playing beautifully.

Memories were strange, because Anya didn't feel physical sensations with her telepathy. She couldn't hear the full piece of what the girl was playing, but she caught feelings of it. She could hear the fragmented pieces that stuck in Hendricksons mind like gum under desks, how he'd blossomed in pride at how far she'd come. Anya could feel how it made him feel, as her chest twisted with a tight, melancholic nostalgia, as the little girl played, long silver hair and tiny fingers. How suddenly, she'd grown, a Stella star sitting proudly on her uniform as she thanked Hendrickson with tears, so choked up, so happy.

The pride that followed, glowing so strong it could replace the sun in the sky, warm and blinding.

Anya could feel the lost echoes of those feelings within the memories, and she could feel how he saw her in that girl. Wide awed caramel eyes fading into curious emerald green.

Wow . Anya needed a moment, her lungs needed a reminder that she was her. To remind herself that it was Mr. Hendrickson feeling this way, not her. 

With that, as she'd grown accustomed to her thoughts, it clicked that the two had a miscommunication. Mr Hendrickson had thought Anya came for music lessons, when in reality she had found the wrong room when looking for academic tutoring.

What Anya should do is tell the truth, explain the reality of the situation. Admit she'd come for lessons to improve her grades.

However... she'd seen it.

The Stella star. The one that made Mr Hendrickson feel so intensely proud that day, so choked up at seeing this girl's journey of falling into music like she did, to suddenly flying with potential. The tempting gleam of wondrous thought, could Anya do it too?

Maybe Loid would see one day. Maybe Anya could do something to make him proud, to finally succeed like he wanted.

It was sealed. A secret promise, a secret dream.

"Well, I know a thing or two about music," he'd said, "We can at least start with learning notes."

Chapter 2: Tutoring gone wrong

Summary:

Please don’t run into papa, please don’t run into papa, please-
A familiar blond haired man in a slick suit stood waiting in the open path down to the gates, turning and waving as he saw Anya approaching. She could feel her soul escape with the breath that left her lungs, limply walking down the stairs on autopilot.

Notes:

sooo funny story, the edited version of chapter 1 has been sitting in my google docs for quite some time now. The first time I wrote this, I was literally just writing on my phone on the Samsung notes app, and none of the italics or anything transferred over to ao3! Idk why, probably because I was posting ch 1 on my phone, which was actually kind of hard to do lmao.

(Btw I was listening to it while re editing chapter 1 Debussy: Estampes; Pour le piano; 6 epigraphes antiques. It's so flowy and feels like it literally never ends but in the best way possible. It reminds me of waterfalls. Also my piano teacher recommended it, so, yeah. Also I decided literally just now that the piece the girl played from Mr. Hendrickson's memory in ch 1 memory was on of the pieces from that album. Choosing Reverie, L. 68 rn bc I like it's name.)

Anyway! Enjoy chapter 2!!!

Silence stretched out over the dinner table as the family ate, yet their minds were anything but.

Anxiety mingling in the backburner of her stomach as she ate, manifesting as a lump in her throat that made it difficult to swallow her food. Anya sat at the head of the table, swinging her legs as she ate her salad Loid made for her, wishing she could appreciate the different fruits he’d put in, knowing she liked her food on the sweater side. As well as the lentils, it was hard to go wrong cooking lentils.

Focus! She gripped her fork, glaring at her salad. How can I even begin to fix this situation?

-earlier-

Listening to Mr. Hendrickson’s thoughts during practice made her head spin. Scales, notes, rhythms, there was so much to learn. Yet he managed to relieve the pressure, make it feel like world peace wasn’t at stake if she messed up. Anya played the numbers on the page according to her fingers, a giddiness emerging when she caught on. 

“You catch on quick,” her teacher praised, if only she was this focused in her other classes. 

Playing was just different , it didn’t feel the same as all the advanced or social etiquette classes she took. Whenever she messed up, there was no looming threat that something would go immensely wrong. Her fingers ached in a pleasing way, but the reward was the internal surprise from Mr. Hendrickson’s thoughts.

“Well, our time here is about up,” he hummed, glancing at his freshly cleaned watch, “it’s getting quite late anyway.”

Anya scooted off the bench, feeling almost disappointed it was over. Next to her, Mr. Hendrickson shuffled around a pile of books, finding a Beginners Guide: Piano. “Here you go, you practice note naming and different piano games in this book.”

It was like he dropped something sacred into her hands, Anya staring at the book in awe. “Thank you,” she beamed. 

“It was a pleasant surprise to run into you here,” Mr Hendrickson chuckled, “always happy to encourage aspiring musicians.”

Together the two walked out, a certain dread building as he continued to follow her to the front building. Please don’t run into papa, please don’t run into papa, please-

A familiar blond haired man in a slick suit stood waiting in the open path down to the gates, turning and waving as he saw Anya approaching. She could feel her soul escape with the breath that left her lungs, limply walking down the stairs on autopilot. 

“Anya, headmaster! Tutoring went well, I assume?” Loid asked as he walked up to them.

Robotically, she nodded. 

“Yes, young Anya caught on to the music quite quickly,” Mr. Hendrickson replied, “I was surprised how quickly she learned just with some individualized attention.”

Anya froze, in too much shock to say anything.

Only a chuckle escaped her papa, “ah, yes, the music of learning,” he agreed, “it’s good to hear she’s engaged, I was quite worried after seeing how she was doing in her other classes.” 

He didn’t catch on? Anya braced, it wasn’t over yet. 

“Yes, well, she’s talented,” Mr. Hendrickson hummed, “although, next time I’d appreciate a warning, I had no idea she wanted lessons.”

Huh, I thought the tutoring hours were public. “Forgive me, I was under the impression after school lessons were open to all,” he apologized, “I didn’t realize she needed individualized attention.”

“No harm no foul, next time just send a check with her, alright?” Mr. Hendrickson laughed, “I don’t go around giving personal free lessons to anyone, no matter how much of a pleasure it is to teach another student.”

“Of course, it’s the least I could do,” Loid promised, “how much?”

“$200,” Mr. Hendrickson had no hesitation in stating the monetary amount needed, “safe travels, Mr. Forger.”

The headmaster twirled back to the school, unaware of the ghostly expression on her father’s face. Anya grabbed his hand, letting out a breath she’d held throughout the interaction.

“Ready to go, papa?”

 

Does she not like her salad? A loud thought drifted to her, alerting Anya that she was giving her salad a nasty grimace for far too long. 

“Oh, Anya’s just oh so very sleepy after tutoring,” Anya sighed overdramatically, slumping against her seat, “she might head to her room early to study.” 

“I can appreciate the effort, but try not to over exert yourself,” Loid warned, glancing back at Yor. 

It may lead to more harm than good if she overworks herself. Yor’s met his eyes, realization befalling them as she realized she was meant to support the statement.

“Yes! Anya, if you’re tired, there’s no need to overwork yourself,” Yor agreed, taking a bite of her own salad, “how about you turn in early tonight?”

Oops. Anya was so screwed. She was so tempted to tell them what really happened, that she hadn’t even found the tutoring room before getting wrapped up in a piano lesson. “Um, well… actually,” Anya mumbled, guilt twisting her up. 

I can really tell she wants to improve, Loid’s thoughts interrupted, a memory emerging. 

 

Old phone wire twirled in his hand anxiously, “Agent Twilight, in the hypothetical scenario where Anya fails, we may have to scrap Operation Strix entirely.”

The warning rang in his ears, the syllables of the sentence still dangling heavily in the air with a remorseful sigh. Loid had carried many difficult missions, had literally carried the weight of knowing failure may mean the end of the world as he knew it. He’d put on numerous masks, been with multiple different people to different targets, a husband, a waiter, a doctor, and yet none had latched onto him quite like this one had.

Remorse weighed heavy on his heart, the thought of leaving made it twist painfully. Yet, that was his burden to carry, his lot in life as a spy. He had to make difficult decisions with the understanding that it was what had to be done. Loid gripped the phone’s wire, toughening his expression as to not let a crack of weakness show. He was an agent, a spy. Being a spy meant doing difficult things.

“Of course, if the need occurs, I’m ready to take responsibility.”

Clang!

Anya’s fork hit her plate harshly, both parents' heads swerving to attention at the noise. It took everything in Anya to not burst into tears then and there, to make herself breathe normally. Her heart ran, ran, and ran, it wouldn’t stop running. It left Anya behind entirely, as she struggled to process the memory she just witnessed. 

If only she couldn’t read minds, or could erase her memory. The lump in her throat from before came back, choking her up and forcing tears to her eyes. “May-Maybe you’re right,” Anya’s voice came out shaky, “Anya shouldn’t overwork herself. She should go to sleep.” 

With that, Anya pushed her chair back and with a thud, her feet landed on the floor. Before either could say anything, she ran to her room, hoping neither adult would see the tears flowing down her cheeks. As soon as she got inside her room, she shut the door and leaned back against it. Immediately, her legs gave out, and she sank to the floor. Anya’s hand came up to her mouth, trying to block out any sobs tearing out of her throat. 

Loid… Dad…

From the other room, the two adults chuckled at her bizarre behavior, carrying on with small talk. Anya muffled a whine with her shirt, wet snot dripping down her nose. All at once, the weight of the last few days came back, for such a small child she was already holding so much. Everything, her home, parents, it could and would fall away at any second. 

If Loid knew… Anya pondered for a moment at the possibilities of if he knew the truth of how she spent her after school. A cold look that was only reserved for bad guys directed straight at her, an ache in her legs she’d barely noticed, only chasing the back of his shirt. She sniffed, standing up with shaky legs, and like a newborn fawn, she stumbled to her desk. 

A newly bought textbook, brand new and barely touched. Anya opened the math page and gazed at the problems. It didn’t matter if it looked too hard or she didn’t feel like it, if Anya didn’t learn this she’d lose everything. Her eyes stung again, and she furiously rubbed them. Again, she kept on with her mantra. It didn’t matter whether or not the burden of the mission was too heavy, it was the cost of being a sneaky spy. 

No matter what, she wouldn’t be broken down. She refused. No matter how difficult, she’d keep going. She’d be a cool liar, just like papa.

 

 

Sometimes Anya debated whether or not the school bus was worth it, debating public transportation instead. The students' thoughts on the bus were some of the worst she’d heard throughout the day, it was her feeling mildly disgusted by the end of the ride. The bus stopped with a screeching halt, the mingling of others internal worlds continuing, completely unaffected.

The world around her felt slightly fuzzy, her eyes heavy. Last night was one of the latest she’d ever stayed up studying, normally she stayed up because of Spy Wars. Her parents didn’t check on her either, not wanting to disturb their daughter who was fast asleep. Anya’s feet hit the floor, she blearily waited in line to get off the bus, rubbing her tired eyes. 

One by one students filtered out, until her feet hit the rough pavement of the sidewalk. She walked further, looking for Becky as they normally walked together. 

“Anya! Good morning-” Becky waved to her cheerily, “oh, Anya.”

Concern crossed her friend's face. I don’t want to seem rude by asking if something happened, but she’s not looking so good.

“Good morning, Becky,” Anya wilted, “is it obvious?”

Becky grimaced, then nodded. “What happened? You look exhausted.”

“Wait until I tell you about the day I had yesterday,” Anya sighed, “it was crazy.”

On their way up the steps to the school, she gave a short summary detailing the events happening the day prior. Becky’s mouth dropped open with wide eyes, “Anya! You can’t lie to your parents!”

“But…but if I tell them…” Anya’s eyes watered as she remembered Loid’s memory, “papa…” she sniffed, feeling the tears already start rolling. 

“Oh! Anya!” Becky grabbed her hand, taking to her to a secluded corner a little ways away from the school entrance, away from prying eyes.

“Papa… papa might leave,” Anya bawled, “and then if papa leaves mama will leave, and Anya will go to the orphanage!”

Becky’s eyes filled with sympathy, she rubbed Anya’s shoulder comfortingly. “But your dad loves you so much, he does so much for you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Anya fiddled with her uniform, leaning against the wall of their school building.

“How do you know if he’d even leave? Did he ever say that to you?” Becky’s expression began to darken, maybe Loid isn’t the prince charming I thought he was.

“No…” Anya glowered, there’s no way she could say she read his mind, “but… but sometimes it just feels like if Anya fails world peace will be destroyed.”

“I understand that, it can’t be easy to not be doing well in school,” Becky sympathized, “but they’re going to find out you’re lying eventually, you should just tell them the truth.”

Poor Anya, Becky thought, school’s really getting to her. Maybe we should go out and have a girls sleepover. 

Anya could already feel some of the stress she felt from before melting away, she threw herself at Becky, wrapping her arms around her friend. “Thanks, Becky,” she felt grateful to have a friend like her. 

“No worries, Anya,” Becky hugged her back, “besides, if you ever need a home you can just stay with me! And we could be sisters!”

“Beckkyy,” Anya blubbered, unable to find the correct words to say. She really did get lucky with Becky.

 

Everyday after school there was tutoring, Anya wandered and found the correct room this time after asking around a bit. Well, turns out the correct room was B-116, she ended up in the completely wrong hall. She opened the door, surprised to see a diverse range of students, from the older upperclassman to kids her age. 

Onward she continued, looking for a desk to sit at. It was a bit of a smaller classroom, with only 3 rows of seats with a small aisle to walk in between. Anya took a seat at the front, sitting on the chair and pulling out her homework. By the chalkboard was Mr. Evans, the language teacher. He had a pleasant expression on his face, which was kind of amazing as it was the end the day on a thursday.

“Welcome to tutoring, kids, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ask,” he offered, sifting through papers on the desk.

Quite frankly, Anya didn’t even know where to start with homework. There was a mountain of things she had to do regarding it, and the only one she really wanted to do was piano. She pulled out her tiny notebook agenda, Yor had bought it for her while they were out grocery shopping together. Anya had been writing about the different things she needed to do throughout the day, so it came in handy. 

That was how Anya spent the tutoring hours studying for history, as she wrote down a test that would be happening that friday. Maybe it was the quiet atmosphere, or the busy students, but it was easy to fall into work. Soon after Anya moved onto her math homework, which was slightly easier to understand after the night before. 

A few minutes after looking over problems, Mr. Evans stopped by the front of her desk. “Anya, hey, I heard that you may need help with math?” 

Peeling her eyes off the problems, Anya looked up and nodded. “How about we look over your quiz together, we can figure out where you’re struggling.” 

It’s imperative that she doesn’t fall behind in the early years, the man’s thoughts floated to her, it could shape her entire experience at Eden. 

“Yes!” Anya jumped up, looking through her school back to grab her folder. She had all her tests on one side and assignments on the other, carefully she took out her test. 

They spent the rest of the 30 minutes at his desk, reviewing the questions, leaving Anya mentally winded. It did surprise her that a language teacher knew so much about math, though, but he seemed to think it wasn’t too difficult. When they finally reached the last problem he grinned, “yes! Anya, that’s right!” 

By the end, Anya didn’t have much energy, but regardless she let out a sleepy “woo!” She must be tired, he thought, “well, you’ve really improved, Anya,” Mr. Evans praised, “I know it feels like a lot, but if you keep this up, you’ll really see an improvement with your grades.”

Okay, it’s official, Mr. Evans is absolutely her favorite teacher. She beamed, “thank you!” 

A soft sort of pride shone in his eyes, he took the time to mirror her smile. Within a few seconds it was washed away, as he glanced at his watch. “Okay, everyone, it’s 7pm, it’s time to go.” 

Again, Loid waited for her in the courtyard, where she eagerly ran up to him to get a hug. She buried her face in his leg, “can you pick me up? I’m tired,” she demanded, he rolled his eyes good naturedly and agreed. 

“Fine,” yet she heard no inner complaints as he heaved her onto his arm, where he took her to the car. 

If Becky saw this, she’d practically be swooning and asking Loid for the same, the mental image almost had her giggling until she remembered what Becky said earlier. Not now , Anya gripped onto her dad’s shirt, maybe in the car. 

The sun just began casting downward, creating a mirage of colors that blended into a beautiful sunset. Loid’s thoughts centered around work, it’s a good thing my target was near the school, I got here right on time. 

Spy work! Anya always loved hearing him talk- er- hearing his thoughts of work! “Papa, how was work?” She asked, feeling slightly like prying. Maybe this time she could catch him in one of his lies.

“Oh, it went well, I had a nice lunch with my coworkers before getting back to work with my patient,” Loid’s mind flashed to a chase he’d been on as soon as he mentioned the word patient , his muscle tensing at the mention. 

Papa’s not a very good liar sometimes. Anya thought to herself, noticing how his thoughts also had a twinge of guilt for lying. Maybe being a telepath just made it hard to be a good liar.

I’m a spy, it’s what I have to do, he thought, if she truly knew what I was doing it’d put the mission in jeopardy. The car was within sight, parked right by the gates. Loid opened the door, gently placing her onto the seat. She strapped herself in, waiting for him to get around the car and into his seat. 

Maybe lying wasn’t so bad, Anya started to think, Papa did it all the time for the mission anyways. This technically could be a mission too, Operation Piano! Thus, they drove onward, Loid forever unaware of the seed he’d planted in his daughter's mind. 

Oh shit. He cursed internally, I forgot the check. 

Internally, he beat himself up over the slip up. “Oh! By the way, I thought I should tell you Mr. Hendrickson only tutors me on Wednesdays,” Anua mentioned, “so we only need checks for then.” 

“Alright then,” he replied, eyes glued to the road, “phew, because I’d forgotten.” 

The guilt that began festering was promptly pushed down, Loid did it all the time, why was it any different if Anya did it? It was for the mission! Still, the bad feeling persisted on the drive home.

Notes:

Yup so literally writing about Anya doing her homework while simultaneously not doing mine !! Anyways tysm to the few people who've read this or bookmarked it, I literally wrote this thinking no one would find it. The updates will most likely be pretty irregular, as I'm in the last few weeks of school, so, fun !! I also have a history test coming up literally this Wednesday that I also have to study for, but why study when you can write about people studying instead?

Lol ok byee !! Ty for reading <3333

Chapter 3

Summary:

Not everyone was cut out for this kind of academic rigor, but still he couldn't help but feel irritated.

Why are you even here? The thought, so harsh, it had suprised even himself.

Notes:

Hii ik it's almost been a year. Before we start this chapter, let's all just collectively say sorry to Damian.

The tests had been passed from student to student, eventually finding its way to Damain. Each problem came naturally, he'd long been studying these problems since his early years. He'd practiced and practiced and practiced, a desperate need to reach the crystallized perfection his brother had.

He was meant to be solving algebra problems, to focus. Just focus. Don't think about the coldly laced silence at the stretched dinner table, how he'd fix his eyes to the plate just to avoid looking at the void of seats around him. 

Focus. Just focus.

A tiredness clung to his eyelids as he worked, lingering from the night prior he spent studying. The solutions to problems came as he worked, and as children began standing to turn in their papers he rubbed his eyes and checked his answers. It felt impossible to ignore the ache residing in his hand, clenched around his pencil. His vision began blurring out near the last problem but that was fine, it was normal. It was normal. 

Below him, as he stood, the pink hair below caught his eye. How could it not? The unnatural color stood out like a sore thumb amongst their other classmates, and he wasn't sure what it was about her that made him feel so... 

Damians throat got tight, gripping his paper. A sharpness furrowed in him at the sight of her tears on the empty page, where written equations had trailed off as her lack of understanding became clear. Not everyone was cut out for this kind of academic rigor, but still he couldn't help but feel irritated. 

Why are you even here? The thought, so harsh, it had suprised even himself. Anyas head shot up to turn behind her, eyes searching over faces until she found her target. He didn't know what made her look at him the way she did; emerald green still wet with tears but with the anger of an imploding star. The eye contact twisted his lungs, caught his breath in his throat and made it come out all wrong. The fierce intensity in the girls gaze made it difficult to hold eye contact, a familiar warmth building under his skin. 

The uncomfortable feeling lingered even as he handed in his paper, a familiar sort of heated embarrassment came to him. Why did it have to be her who had to make him feel like this? Damians life would've been so much easier without this burning heat in his cheeks or wild beating of his heart. 

Even as he made his way back to his seat, he couldn't help but make a quick glance to her seat. The scene had barely changed, except for a small strand of hair that fell to her cheek. Such a small detail, one that shouldn't have even stuck out to him like it did. The urge to smooth it down was promptly ignored as he sat back in his seat, loathing.

Figuring out what Damian was loathing was lost to him. Multiple different facets kept creeping up on him, ones too difficult to think about. Everytime a stream of a faint memory came close to interfering with his carefully built up plan, it was redirected elsewhere. Damian was a Desmond- a Desmond meant being nothing less than perfection. 

The bell ringed, marking the end of class. He dreaded today, the obligatory phone call that awaited him at home. Yet as he walked down the hall with his friends, the dread crept back into the familiar sense of impatience. The feeling took him back to his early years of longing for his mother's arms around his, for an affectionate smile to grace his father's lips. The numbing ache in his heart as neither would ever come to be, his late nights longing, longing, longing-

A sharp laugh sounded from Ewen interrupted his tangent, out of his spiraling thoughts. It was like his brain was constantly betraying him, sending him in circles thinking about people who would never care for him. Even now, when neither parent had ever consistently came through after those cold nights, the childish need for them still came through. 

The feeling followed Damain to the common room, as he leaned on the couched armrest by the ivory phone for it to ring. The heavy feeling from the classroom returned, the strength it took to keep his eyes opened faltered as time stretched on. Paying attention to the curled lines of the telephone wire, tracing where it connected to the phone to the box became increasingly difficult. 

Darkness dotted his vision, a fogginess in his brain. The fatigue, the weary ache in his stomach arose once more as the longing returned intense as ever. He wanted it so bad; their arms around his, the crinkle of eyes from laughs, their love. 

It was such a selfish desire, wasn't it? Damian already had their love, or rather, their version of it. The silent looks from his father, evaluating Damians potential. If Damian met those expectations he'd finally earn the his father's approval that he so desired. Every. Single. Time. Damian came short. 

What Damian lacked, his elder brother seemed to have an abundance of. It seemed their father couldn't get enough of him, as Jarvus told him about how involved his father was in Demetrius' studies in his early years. The information burned Damian, kept him up at night as he wondered what made him so different. Why wasn't father involved with his studies? Why didn't he care? 

Something had to be wrong with Damian to not be okay with the circumstances he found himself in with his family, he had to be selfish to long for something that he didn't deserve.

It burned, it burned, it burned. The knowledge, the jealousy, the pain. It kept him awake in the nights, wondering what he needed to do to earn their love. What would make his mother look at him with anything other than disgust? What would make his father acknowledge him with more than just a fleeting glance of judgment? The answer was there, always had been. 

The difference was Demetrius was a child prodigy, excelling at seemingly every subject he laid his hands on. Damian could see how he paled to his brother, how much of a baby he must've appeared to be to his father. The thoughts stung, and it ushered him out of bed to wander restlessly to his brothers old room to explore long abandoned textbooks Demetrius long outgrew in persuit of better knowledge.

The phone's ringing filled the air, jolting him awake and away from memories of an empty mansion and a lonely heart. He jolted up eagerly, excitement filling him as his fingers stretched to grasp the phone. Until he remembered that he was a Desmond, it's inappropriate too behave to erratically in the presence in others. He instead calmly grasped the phone, careful not to breath too heavily into the speaker. 

"Damian?" The voice of his butler came, brought him back to the all encompassing vast mansion. The wide empty halls he'd wander in the day, the table-

"Are you there, Damian?" Jeeves came again, and Damian tried to pull himself back to the conversation. 

"Hi, it's me." A childish neediness arose as Damain gripped the phone, fingers anxiously tracing his pants fabric. The question he was about to ask wasn't new to either of them, but it's importance was ingrained into both of them. "Has father asked about me?" 

The desperation to hear the answer, the ache twisted up inside painfully. A long breath came from the other side, one Damain had long come to recognize as an unspoken answer to the question.

"No, but-" Damian pretended to listen to the words Jeeves said, made all the correct sounds at all the right moments. He managed a weak chuckle, and could appreciate Jeeves efforts to make him feel better. 

That night he returned to his room, laid under his sheets. Once again, all at once, the longing returned. Damian wondered if maybe something was wrong with him to make father have such a callous attitude towards him. He stared at his ceiling, traced over the bumps, and the desperation arose once more. 

Just one pleased look, one proud smile, and Damian would be fine. 

Closing his eyes became impossible as he continued to retrace what made Demetrius so great. Damian just wasn't good enough for his father's love yet, but eventually he would be. 

With a familiar ruggedness, he forced himself to Demetrius' textbooks.

 

 

 

The library was a calming place to study after school, the quiet atmosphere surrounded by older kids made him feel a sense of maturity. Not many kids his age were in the library reading like he was, in the sections he would hang out. He was reading in the advanced science sections, checking out books he thought Demetrius would read. The illusion of genius was shattered upon finding Albert reading up on advanced level physics in the science section. Stupid Albert. 

A neat list of his assignments laid crossed out, his study materials crossed out, and Damian took a glance out the library window to the mix of oranges and pinks. He supposed studying history of old political figures could wait until later, it would be dinner time soon. Damian didn't like missing dinner, it made him cranky later.

A book caught his eye as he'd gathered his items to leave, the faint image of a picture perfect family propped up. He couldn't contain his scoff, it was so obviously fake. The child's smile, parents' hugs, warm atmosphere. It was all an act, and once the camera was down they'd all leave and go back to the thinly laced silence of unspoken words. That's how all families were.

The thick pillars outside extended to the dormitory, the marble floors a perfect pathway.The sun was just peeking out from under a tree, already tracing the horizon. He paused outside the doors, taking in the sweet colors mixing into the sunset that cast a golden glow. Damian exhaled, feeling a ache loosen in his stomache as he just took it in. 

The thin gates of the Eden School extended out like welcoming arms, open for only 20 more minutes before closing for the night. The figure of a man stood out in front, waiting for something. It put Damian off, as he stared warily at the man who occasionally glanced at his watch. 

Out came Mr Hendrickson with Anya at his side, the sight so jarring he had a double take. The three shared brief conversation, Anya stiff as a tree between the two. It didn't take straight A's to piece together that Anya was in trouble, and knowing her academic history it was easy to put two and two together. Damian did feel bad for her, he really did. He couldn't imagine his father ever finding out about such a failure- couldn't even fathom it. Then Mr Hendrickson walked off, left the two alone. 

This was it. Damian knew how families worked and that there was no need to pretend, with no eyes fixed on them. Their true colors would be shown, Anyas father would go back to being cold and unloving and Anya would pretend not to drown. Yet, as the two made their way to the gates, he saw it. The gesture, from such a distance could be hard to make out but he still saw. There was no need for it, with no public eyes to please. 

A small hand reached out for her father's, whom accepted with a smile. They held hands gently as the sunset cased a golden glow over the sacred gesture. 

The moment shared between the two was so unlike the practiced family portraits Damian had to participate in, or the rare tense family dinners that always had at least one family member missing. There was nothing performative about it, Anya wanted to hold her father's hand, so she did. He couldn't take his eyes off where their hands connected, fixed onto the place of contact where the golden rays of the sun fell. 

The longing he only allowed himself to feel late in the nights, hidden from prying eyes emerged with a ferocity that left a tremble in his shoulders. He was taken aback by how strong it was, how when the two rounded the corner out of sight it nearly knocked him off his knees.

What was wrong with him? Damian's hand rested on a pillar, a dizziness stirring in his head. A painful ache resided in his stomach, twisting up like a snake coiling around its prey the more he thought about the two. His head fell forward to join his hand on the pillar, resting his weight upon it. Staying upright felt more and more of a challenge as he wondered why, why he felt this ferocious hatred towards those two in that moment. 

To rip their hands apart, to rip apart the perfect family image they'd crafted in that moment. He wanted it, he wanted it more than the sun in the sky and the oxygen in his lungs. He needed his father too look at him with the soft look Loid gave Anya, their gentle affection. The pressure to be better- the urge to forever chase a fleeting title to be the best in his class gone as soon as that love filled his veins. 

It wasn't fair. All he'd ever wanted was for his father to just look at him, but Anya didn't even need to ask.

Their affection seemed to come so easily. The moment made a nasty jealousy boil up, wondering why? Why couldn't they be like that too? 

That day was the day he realized that not all families were like his. 

 

 

It was hard to view Anya the same way after that, her pink hair rows ahead. A new feeling sat alongside the breathlessness in his lungs whenever they held eye contact for seconds that felt like hours, it chewed him up and made it hard to look at her too long. A bitterness at what she had and what he wanted, what he didn't deserve and hadn't earned. 

There was an undercurrent of constant fuzziness in the back of his mind, a dizziness that lingered as a coat over his eyes. Possibly a side effect of his nausea at the thought of eating dinner last night, his appetite vanished as he headed in for some historical reading.

What did Anya do to earn her father's affection? Damian did everything right; got perfect grades, had perfect behavior, perfect manners, perfect- 

The teacher handed out their homework assignments, and he caught a glimpse of her failure marked in a bloody red rows ahead. He wanted to claw his eyes out to prevent himself from seeing- from knowing that everything for her would always be fine. There was no empty mansion, no long endless halls void of warmth. Despite the family portraits of performative closeness, there was nothing and no one was there. 

Damian hated her. He couldn't stand just looking at her and remembering how different their lives were. Anya would never have to meet the over bearingly high standards her family set for her, and he would never understand the unconditional love that came so easily for her family. 

And rows ahead, Damian pretended not to see the tilt of her head and the emerald greens subtly glancing over at him.

Notes:

Idk if you can tell but found family family has me foaming at the mouth.

Poor Damian. I just started writing his pov and then it just poured out of my fingers.

Atp it's almost tradition to link a new piano song in a chapter so here it is: Nocturne in C-Sharp minor by Frederick Chopin. My friend's playing it for UIL.

Notes:

Kkk so idk if you can tell but I'm projecting onto Anya a LOt

Shes also struggling with undiagnosed ADHD. She's going through it rn but like it'll be worth it!! Maybe! Idk where this is going but it's a journey we'll go on together.

If there r typos NO THERE ISNT (jk I maybe might fix them)