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The foyer of her apartment was quieter than usual when Anya stepped through the main doors. Her boots echoed against the polished marble, leaving behind the dust of another mission she'd rather not remember in detail. Three days. She'd been gone for three full days.
And there he was.
Damian was standing by one of the ornamental columns, arms crossed, wearing that expression Anya had learned to read better than any thought. His chestnut hair was perfectly coiffed as always, but his honey-colored eyes watched her with an intensity that made the air between them feel heavy.
'Finally back. Idiot. Reckless. Why did she have to...?'
Damian's thoughts cut off abruptly, as if he were trying to censor them before they fully formed. Anya felt a tug in her chest. After all these years, after going from fighting on the playground to... this, she knew every nuance of his expression.
The seriousness on his face wasn't anger. It was fear.
"You're late," he said, his voice controlled. Too controlled.
"Sorry..." Anya began, but she didn't get to finish.
Damian had closed the distance between them in two long strides and wrapped her in a hug that stole her breath. His arms held her with a firmness that bordered on desperate, his face buried in her pink hair.
'Not again. I can't... if something happened to her...'
Anya closed her eyes and returned the embrace, her own arms circling his waist. She didn't need to read his mind to understand this. She felt it in the way his hands trembled slightly against her back, in how his breathing was uneven against her hair.
"You're too reckless," Damian murmured against her ear, and Anya could hear the tension in his voice. "You always have been. Since the very first day I met you."
"Do you remember the first day?" she asked softly, trying to lighten the moment. "When I punched you..."
"How could I forget," a short, humorless laugh escaped him. "You've been nothing but trouble ever since."
But he didn't let go. It was a simple, private moment of Damian Desmond hugging his girlfriend in the middle of the foyer as if she were the only thing anchoring him to the ground.
And perhaps she was.
The rest of the day passed with Damian following her like an elegant, worried shadow. In the library, he sat beside her even when she was just reviewing reports. In the dining hall, he pushed his plate closer to hers, making sure she ate properly. In the academy gardens, he walked beside her with their hands linked, the silence between them comfortable but charged with something unspoken.
Anya watched him out of the corner of her eye. She could hear his thoughts circling, always returning to the same point: 'I could have lost her.'
When the sun began to set, painting the sky in oranges and pinks, Damian finally spoke:
"There's a place I want to take you."
Anya blinked, surprised. "Now?"
"You've been mentioning it for months," he said, looking away with that serious yet sweet look he'd never quite managed to abandon completely. "The Botanical Garden... You said you wanted to see the wisteria when they bloomed."
Anya's heart skipped a beat. She'd mentioned it casually weeks ago, a passing comment while they were flipping through a magazine. She didn't think he'd remember, much less do anything about it.
"Damian..."
"It's not a big deal," he interrupted quickly, his cheeks slightly flushed. "Just... let's go."
The Botanical Garden was more beautiful than Anya had imagined. The wisteria hung in cascades of violet and white, creating tunnels of flowers that seemed lifted from a fairy tale. The sweet scent floated in the air, mingling with the gentle songs of birds preparing for nightfall.
But Anya could barely register the beauty around her.
Because the moment they passed through the garden gates, Damian pulled her to him and captured her lips in a kiss that stole all her capacity for thought.
It was different from their usual kisses. It wasn't the soft, almost timid brush when they said goodbye, or the playful kiss they shared when no one was watching. This was urgent, almost desperate, as if Damian were trying to convince himself that she was really there, alive and whole in his arms.
'She's here. She's okay. I didn't lose her.'
Damian's thoughts echoed so loudly in Anya's mind they almost hurt with their emotional intensity. She returned the kiss, letting him take what he needed, offering her presence as silent comfort.
When they finally broke apart for air, Anya tried to focus her gaze on the flowers surrounding them. "The wisteria are beautiful," she started to say.
Damian kissed her again.
Anya laughed against his lips, the sound muffled. She tried to turn her head to get a better look at the garden, fascinated by the petals falling like soft rain around them.
Another kiss.
"Damian," she protested weakly, though her hands clutched his jacket. "You brought me to see the garden..."
"Mmm," was all he said before dipping his head again, his lips finding hers with a familiarity that spoke of years of practice.
Anya tried to concentrate. She really did. She could see flashes of the garden between kisses: the deep purple of the flowers, the emerald green of the leaves, the stone path winding through the flowerbeds. But every time her eyes started to focus, Damian reclaimed her attention.
It was like being in two worlds at once: the garden she had so wanted to see, and the world contained within her boyfriend's kisses.
Finally, after what felt like both an eternity and an instant, Damian pulled away. But instead of moving back, he pouted.
A genuine pout.
It was such an incongruous expression on the face of the Desmond heir, so similar to the spoiled six-year-old who used to argue with her on the playground of Eden Academy, that Anya couldn't help but stare at him in surprise.
"See something more interesting in this garden, shorty?" Damian asked, and there it was, that annoying childhood nickname he only used when he was particularly vulnerable.
'She cares more about the stupid garden than me. After three days without seeing me...'
Anya felt her heart melt. She could see the hurt clearly in his honey-colored eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly, the pout that still lingered on his lips. This wasn't the sophisticated man he pretended to be in public. This was her Damian, the one who hid his tender heart behind sharp words, the one who had defended her since they were kids, the one who hugged her as if she were his most precious treasure.
With a soft smile, Anya raised her hands and cupped Damian's face, forcing him to look directly at her.
"I'm sorry, my love..." she said in that tender voice she reserved just for him, the one she knew disarmed him completely. "Do you want me to look only at you?"
The effect was immediate. Damian's face turned a bright red that rivaled the garden's roses. His eyes went wide, his lips parted slightly in shock, and for a moment, he seemed to forget how to breathe.
'Why does she say things like that? Why with that voice? My heart is going to...'
"I... you..." he stammered, all his composure vanishing. "Don't just say things like that so suddenly, you idiot."
But he didn't pull away. If anything, he leaned more into her hands, like a cat seeking affection.
Anya smiled wider. "But it's the truth. You're much more interesting than any garden."
"Liar," Damian murmured, but his arms wrapped around her again, pulling her closer. "You've been talking about this place for months."
"And you remembered," she noted softly, her thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks. "You brought me here because you thought it would make me happy."
"Well, yes," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "After... after you were gone for three days with barely any details, I just... wanted to see you smile."
'I wanted to make sure I can still make her happy. That I'm still here to do it.'
Anya felt a lump form in her throat. She let her hands drift down from his face to his chest, where she could feel his heart beating rapidly under her palm.
"You always make me happy, Damian," she said, and this time, she was the one who kissed him.
It was a different kiss. Soft, slow, full of unspoken promises and years of shared history. A kiss that said 'I'm here,' 'I'm safe,' 'I'm not going anywhere.'
When they broke apart, Anya rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Damian's thoughts were finally beginning to calm, the silent panic he'd been feeling all day finally giving way to something more peaceful.
"You're a fool," she murmured against his jacket. "Worrying so much."
"You're the fool," he retorted, but his hand came up to gently stroke her pink hair. "Being so reckless with your life."
"Sorry."
"You're not sorry," he sighed. "You'll do it again."
"Probably," Anya admitted.
"And I'll worry like an idiot again."
"Probably."
There was a moment of comfortable, warm silence as they stood holding each other under the wisteria. Then Damian spoke again, his voice softer:
"I can't lose you, Anya. I... wouldn't know what to do if..."
"You're not going to lose me," she interrupted firmly, tightening her hug. "I'm tougher than you think. Besides..." she looked up at him with a mischievous smile, "...who else would call you 'Sy-on Boy' so affectionately?"
Damian made a face. "I hate that nickname."
"No, you don't."
'...She's right. I don't. Not when it's her saying it.'
"You're impossible," he sighed, but there was a smile on his lips.
"And you're an incorrigible tsundere," she shot back. "Even now, after all these years."
"I am not a tsundere."
"You just pouted because I wasn't paying enough attention to you."
"That... that's different," he protested, his cheeks coloring again. "I just... you had been gone for three days and then you were more interested in the flowers than in..."
"Than in you?" Anya finished, her smile softening. "Damian..." she went up on her toes to kiss his cheek, "...I'm always interested in you. Even when I'm looking at flowers. Even when I'm on missions. Always."
Damian's eyes softened, that wistful look in them turning warm.
"Always is a long time," he murmured.
"I know," Anya replied simply. "And I wouldn't trade that for anything."
'Me neither. I wouldn't even trade that first punch. Because it brought us here.'
Anya laughed, catching that particular thought. "You still think about that punch?"
Damian grumbled, burying his face in her hair to hide his embarrassment. "Sometimes. It was the start of all this... mess."
"A beautiful mess," she corrected.
"The most frustrating, complicated, exasperating mess I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing," he said, but his arms pulled her closer, completely contradicting himself.
"Liar."
"Maybe," he admitted with a sigh. "But you're my beautiful mess, I suppose."
Anya smiled against his chest, her heart feeling like it might overflow. She wouldn't change any of this. She wouldn't change the arrogant boy who had irritated her on the Eden playground. She wouldn't change the years of fights and misunderstandings. She wouldn't change the way they'd gradually become something more, something neither of them had planned but both desperately needed.
And she definitely wouldn't change this man, her beloved boyfriend, who could still turn into that spoiled, jealous little boy when he felt he was losing her attention.
"I love you," she said suddenly, the words coming out before she could think.
Damian froze. Even after all these years, those words still had the power to render him speechless. Anya could feel his thoughts shooting off in a thousand directions, his heart racing under her palm.
'She says it so easily. As if it weren't... as if it didn't mean...'
"I love you too," he finally managed to say, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Even when you're reckless and impossible and drive me crazy with worry."
"But you love it," Anya teased.
"But I love it," he agreed with a soft laugh.
They stayed like that as the sun finished setting, bathing the garden in golden and purple hues. The wisteria swayed gently above them, occasional petals falling like silent blessings.
Eventually, Damian pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. His own honey-colored eyes shone with something Anya had come to recognize as pure, unfiltered love, the kind of love that had gradually grown from those Eden days into something unshakable.
"Thank you," he said simply.
"For what?"
"For coming back. For being here. For... being you."
Anya felt tears prick her eyes. "I'll always come back to you, you fool. I promise."
"You'd better keep that promise, shorty."
"I will," she smiled. "After all, who else is going to spoil you when you pout?"
"I don't pout."
"You literally just did five minutes ago."
"That doesn't count."
"It totally counts."
Damian kissed her, probably to silence her laughter. It didn't work; Anya was still laughing against his lips, the sound full of pure joy.
This time, when they broke apart, they both finally turned to admire the garden together, Damian's arms still firmly around her, as if he were afraid she'd disappear if he let go.
"It's beautiful," Anya murmured, finally allowing herself to fully appreciate the wisteria.
"Yes," Damian agreed, but he wasn't looking at the flowers. He was looking at her.
'The most beautiful thing here is you.'
Anya blushed, catching that thought, and playfully pushed him. "Stop thinking such cheesy things."
"Never," he replied with that almost childlike smile, the one he reserved just for her.
She wouldn't change a thing, Anya thought again.
Not a single moment.
Not even the punch.