Damianya One-Shots

I Wish I Hated You (G)

Damian took a sip of his punch, watching the idiotic college party he was invited to. He really shouldn't be there, he had studies to do—but God, he was glad he wasn't doing them. Ever since everything happened with Anya, he hadn't felt like himself.

Damian sighed, hating how the taste of secondhand smoke punctured him as he breathed back in. It had happened two weeks ago, but he still felt crazy. How could that even be possible? His high school sweetheart—who could even be classified as elementary sweetheart from how long he'd love her—could read minds. Not only could she read minds, but her father was a spy. And not only could she read minds, and not only was her father a spy, but the only reason she was dating him was to get her villain father closer to Damian's own father.

He loved her. He loved her so much. And because of that love, he put his father, family—hell, maybe even the whole country in danger.

He just wanted to let this story die—but he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was all he wanted. Damian wanted to embrace her, he wanted to kiss her, but most of all, he wanted to talk to her. But he couldn't. He wouldn't make a fool of himself again.

"Hey, Damian?" Ewen said—him and Emile had gotten accepted into Eden University with Damian, so the three of them always hung out. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Nah," Damian answered, finishing off his punch with one last chug. "My stomach is hurting, I'm gonna go back to my dorm—you stay here and have fun though. Keep an eye on Emile."

Ewen looked worried, but he let Damian go with a nod—which the green-haired boy greatly appreciated. He just needed to be alone.

On his walk back to his apartment—which wasn't too long away since the party was held in a sorority house—he kept thinking about Anya.

She had been all that he thought about ever since he found out. First, he was angry, then he was sad, but now? Now he just missed her. He yearned for her. But how could he forgive that? Fifteen years of deceit? It would be different if Anya told him voluntarily: but she didn't. She was exposed. How could he forgive someone who seemingly wanted nothing more than to keep him in the dark?

He believed she loved him, but clearly not as much as he loved her. He would never do something so terrible. Never.

Well, Anya's horrendous plans clearly weren't done, because when Damian walked into his apartment, there was a girl with pink hair sitting on his desk chair.

The two stared at each other for a solid ten seconds before the pinkette broke the silence.

"...Hi, Damian."

Damian had so many questions: how did she manage to get into the boys' dorm room? How did she manage to get into his room? What was she doing here at all? Was she here to apologize? To assassinate him? He wouldn't be surprised, he did know too much. Hopefully she was here to assassinate him—then he could forget about the lie he lived for the past fifteen years.

"...Get out," He said, feeling his face burn from the words. It was like he was six again; he just felt so angry. "I need you to leave. Right now."

"...Damian, please." She said, sitting up and walking to him. He wanted to trust her, everything in his soul wanted to trust her. But he knew he couldn't.

"How'd you even get in?" He asked, curiosity forcing him to speak with her—which he regretted almost immediately.

Anya let out a small, forced laugh. "You learn a few things when your dad's the best spy in Ostania and Westalis." She tried to joke. Damian did not laugh.

Anya sighed, her awkward smile dropping with her breath. "Damian, please listen to me." She begged. "I sneaked out of my house to talk to you—my parents didn't want me to see you ever again—so please, just let me apologize and explain."