To Be, Or Not To Be|| SPY X FAMILY

Damian||The Central Garden

Our family's Central Garden is a huge field, acres of land that has been cultivated into something rather endearing at the first glance and then the more you spend time here, the more alluring it becomes. It has all those fancy flowers like Posies, Roses, Hibiscus. Bougainvillea, Tulips, Petunias surrounding this huge tomb-like structure made of the finest of marble. The Central garden is connected to four other gardens, well more like it diverges to form four different gardens where more flora is visible.

My mother sat in the middle of the garden inside the small building. Her pale face held a slightly softened expression. She was thinking about something. Her almond-shaped eyes glance at my direction, I take one step back as she tilts her head to look at me. The moment she realises I was at close proximity to her, her lips curve into a smile.

Reluctant at first, I walk towards her. She stands up from the table and takes my face into her hands affectionately, "Damian, come sit down." I give a slight nod, pulling away from her embrace. "Good evening, mother."
"As formal as ever, are we?"
"Erm..."

Her eyes gleam as she gives a small chuckle, "Are you not going to sit down?"
"I am..." I say, staring at her blankly. Truthfully, I've never been good with words. Literature and poetry and all that. Of course, when it came to making notes and studying for the exam, I was as studious and competitive as ever. However, I never truly took the time to understand the in depth meaning of things. Not like her.

I sit down absent-mindedly, humming and nodding as my mother conversed. How long has it been since I thought about Anya Forger? Very long, way too long. She's just another one of those memories from my times at Eden.

I remember her face as fresh as ever. I remember how as the years passed by we both grew. I remember how her stubby legs had begun to slim, her green eyes would beam at me, her facial expression became less predictable as the years had begun to pass. Her pink hair would bounce behind her as she ran, her curls would become less prominent after we came in middle school. Soon enough, when we all matured, so did she and any promising sign I had seen, any sense of familiarity I'd seek from her, became more difficult to obtain, as was she.

"Damian?" I flinched at the sound of my mother's voice, "Darling, are you alright?-"
"I'm fine..." I mumble, putting my handkerchief to my mouth and gently wiping my lips.

"..."

The cold breeze brushed past our fingertips. The evening was more sombre than usual. I listened to my mother talk, her voice sounded like it was dripped with honey, that always made me feel more comfortable. In darkness, one seeks light, in the darkness of this very monotone evening I found comfort and light in my mother's consoling words.

Then she hit me with these five words and I felt my world crumbling down: "Damian, It's time you should get married."

I flinched. I knew it, the only reason my mother would summon me out of the blue was obviously because she had something to say, or a favour to ask, it would never be for small talk. Even so, I knew it was about time that someone mentioned it. I always expected my father to be the one to do so.

Nonetheless, I nod slowly, putting down my cup, "I suppose it is." She stares at me for a minute with an unreadable expression before her face breaks into a smile, she sighs in relief, "Oh thank goodness! You agree with me!"
Of course I do. I always do. Always. Whether it's you or father. Always.

"..."

Her eyes gleamed at me and she silently took another sip from her cup. I was already done with my tea, I stared at the empty cup for a long time, u sure of what to say or do next. Apparently, my mother must've noticed me staring at the cup. I heard a slight chuckle escape her mouth "You're staring so longingly at your cup... . You want more tea?"

"I'm alright."

"Hm...Alright."

I watched my mother sip her tea calmly, her face was as unreadable as ever, she had other ways of expressing her emotions. Her shoulders were tense and she trembled slightly. With a flushed face (pink from the cold) she says "It's quite breezy, right Damian?"

"The wind. Yeah." I nod slightly.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"Do you remember that one time when you had a nightmare and then you gently crept into my bed?" She chuckled. All my mother's previous attempts at conversation with me were returned with slight nods and murmurs of yes and no. But then she brought this one up.

"How could I forget," I felt my muscles twitch, forming a small smile on my face, "That was the first time you showed any signs of feeling anything apart from the emotions I'd usually see on your face."

"Hm..."

"..."

Why was she bringing this up now? After such a long time, truthfully, I don't remember the details, but I remember the nightmare well. It was a recurring nightmare I'd have when I was four. A silhouette of a tall butcher who'd just be chopping heads. Honestly, it was far too graphic and unnerving for a child to witness in a nightmare.

"You slept so very peacefully, Damian, as if-" she puts her hand to her chest, near her heart, "as if you were at peace with yourself and everything around you," her head falls as a small frown forms on her face. She purses her lips and stares deep into my eyes, "Tell me, My darling, where did the peace go?"

"the peace...?" She stares at me longingly, her eyes turn downwards for a second before she looks at me with a pained expression, as if she wished to ask me where her little boy went, and I'd answer: He went out to war, because the peace couldn't be restored.