Chapter Text
"Thank you," the seventeen year old girl told the man and went into the abandoned shack in the forest. The man called another person there for him. The man liked to pretend he was a great spy or something, which came in handy for Anya's purposes.
Anya went into a shack to meet another person there - a nineteen year old boy.
Or perhaps she should say, young man.
Who looked at her as if he was seeing a ghost.
Anya took a small bags of peanuts out of her bag and the young man begun to cry, while pretending he was not crying.
As if she couldn't hear his blabbering thoughts and the young man - S--Damian, Damian, Damian - knew with 99,999999999977777777 % certainty, leaving room for miniscule reasonable human doubt of an almost reasonable doubt that she could not.
"Thank you for coming."
"No....... thank you."
Sigh.
And a piercing gaze, on both sides. Not that they could keep it up for too long - there was too much fondness there, too, despite--
Despite everything that had happened, a decade ago and earlier.
"I like you, I think, if that was even the real You--"
"I know."
"I'm not lying!"
She knew that. Well, technically, he was lying? His thought was not I like you, it was I [could did had dunno] love [d???????????] Anya - if that's even who You were, I--- never-------- iloveyouiloveyouI'mafooltodosoI--
but that's details, so what came out of his mouth was as true as things that come out of mouths instead of being stuck inside could ever possibly reasonably humanly be and---
and she doesn't know who closed the distance and embraced whom
she or him
they both at once
it's not a hug if it's not mutual, after all
and the feeling had been mutual, if--
"I know you know. I hate--"
"Shsh. Uhm-- Anya, too? If you're still Damian-- I might've liked you a little-- hey-- I didn't say---!"
He kissed her. On a cheek, because maybe he was a coward, she thought for a split second, or perhaps he didn't love her like that, or perhaps she was full of herself, or she was, or---
She tried not to hear his thoughts. She had that ability, now.
Sometimes that could be for the best, between people who felt something for each other. Not every real thought could always be--
true
in the truest sense of the word
is what I had learnt, through the years, Anya thought quietly to herself. Not that she doubted the feelings-
that were still there- if only a little--
Liar. Not just a little.