Bond barged into Anya's room and pulled her blanket, barking, "Borf! Borf!"

Anya, still half-asleep, mumbled, "Huh? What is it, Bond? What are you doing here so early?"

Bond fetched the alarm clock and barked again. Anya stared at it blankly — until she took it and finally registered the time.

"Holy shit! Is this clock even working?! What's with this time?! Oh no — I'm gonna get detention and Papa is gonna leave me!"

She bolted to the bathroom.

Meanwhile, Loid — who was up late last night handling a mission — just wakes up. He sees Anya rushing around and realizes she's going to be late for school. He checks the time, then quickly changes his clothes while grumbling under his breath about his chaotic daughter.

From the kitchen, Yor's voice rings out: "Breakfast is ready! Come and get it!"

Anya, now in her uniform, rushes into the kitchen and says, "Sorry Mama, I'm just gonna have these two toasts. That's it!" She grabs them.

Loid comes rushing in. "I'll have mine after I drop Anya and come back." The toast is already gone. He grabs his keys and drags Anya out the door — while she still has one toast in her mouth and the other in her hand.

Loid drives fast. Very fast. Anya sits in the back, desperately trying to chew her peanut butter toast.

"Phew, we're here," Loid says. "I'm not gonna let this slide. I'll talk to you this evening. Now go!"

Anya looks up, surprised. "What?! Already?! I only finished one of my toasts—" she mutters, grabbing her bag, keeping the other toast firmly in her mouth, and hurrying out of the car.

She turns and waves at Loid. He drives off.

As she spins back around —

She bumps into something. A wall? No... strangely soft.

She falls to the ground.

Looking up, she realizes it's not a wall at all.

It's the second son of the Desmond family, looking down at her with a half-annoyed, half-amused smirk. A faint blush dusts his cheeks.

"Still can't walk properly, Forger?"

But Anya isn't listening to his words. She's listening to his thoughts.

"She fell again. Of course she fell. Why am I not surprised? ...Why is she looking at me like that? Stop looking at me. Your eyes are too big. I hate it. I don't hate it. I hate that I don't hate it—"

Anya blinks.

"Is that peanut butter on her nose? That's disgusting. ...It's kinda cute. NO. It's NOT cute. Shut up, brain."

Damian's face is burning.

"Why am I still standing here? Just walk away. Walk away, Damian. ...Her hand is right there. Don't look at her hand. I'm not looking. I looked."

Anya looks up at him, toast still clamped between her teeth, and tries her best to speak:

"Fy-on foy... foo' morning~"

Damian blinks. "…What?"

"Did she just... what did she say? Why is she smiling like that? She knows something. She always knows something. It's creepy. ...It's kinda hot. NO. NOT HOT. WEIRD. I meant weird."

Anya quickly swallows, grins brightly, and tries again: "I said — Sy-on boy! Good morning!"

"She said the nickname. The stupid nickname. Why does my heart do that thing every time?! Stop it. Stop it right now. ...Her eyes are really pretty today. NO. STOP."

Damian's blush deepens. He has no idea she can hear every embarrassing thought.

"Are you going to lie there forever, or what?" he mutters, reaching out his hand.

"Take it take it take it— I mean. I don't care if she takes it. Obviously. ...But please take it."

Anya's smile turns absolutely mischievous. She takes his hand.

"OH GOD SHE'S TOUCHING ME. HER HAND IS SOFT. WHAT DO I DO. ACT COOL. ACT COOL. ...Why is she still smiling?! Does she know?! She can't know. There's no way she knows. Unless— no. That's ridiculous."

"You're thinking very loudly, Second Son," Anya whispers as he pulls her up.

Damian freezes. "…What?"

"Nothing~" she says, peanut butter still on her nose.

"NOTHING?! What does 'nothing' mean?! Why is she like this?! I hate her. I hate her so much. ...That's a lie. I hate that it's a lie."

Anya finally gets to her feet and stares at Damian, who is completely lost in her.

"Peanut butter... on her nose... why is that cute? It shouldn't be cute. It's messy. I hate messy. ...I don't hate this. Why don't I hate this? STOP STARING, DAMIAN."

Anya stops his train of thoughts by asking, "What's wrong? Is there something on my face?"

Damian blinks at her. "Yeah, you have 'ugliness' printed on your face — with a touch of peanut butter."

"Yeah, I mean it! Yes. No. I don't think I mean it. Well, she is ugly, right? She is ugly... I guess. Ugh, this is frustrating. Okay, fine — not that ugly."

Anya looks at him with that knowing smile and opens her mouth. "Where?"

He just stares at her. "Everywhere!! Your ugliness is everywhere!"

Anya looks confused. "I meant the peanut butter." She raises her eyebrows.

"Shit!! This is embarrassing!!"

Damian, who is trying hard not to turn into a tomato, comes back to life as he realizes what she said. "On your nose—"

Just then, the last bell starts ringing.

They share a look. "Stupid! What are you waiting for?! RUN!!" Damian shouts.

Anya doesn't hesitate. She takes off.

They reach the classroom door, both panting heavily.

"Damian Desmond." Damian wheezes, "Here—"

"Anya Forger." She wheezes, "Here—"

As she's about to step in, Damian reaches out and grabs her arm. "Idiot!! Are you gonna go in with that butter still on your nose?!" He wipes her nose with his other hand.

Anya stares at him, a blush spreading across her face. "O-oh... thank you, S-Sy-on boy..."

Damian's blush reaches his ears. He quickly lets go of her arm. "Y-yeah... sorry—"

And he bolts inside, leaving Anya there to stare blankly at him.

She comes in and takes her place beside Becky, who is smirking at her. "What's wrong?" blurts Anya, who is later hit by a chalk from Mr. Henderson.

"Some students are late and yet they have the nerve to chitchat," says Mr. Henderson, glaring at Anya. "Not elegant!"

Anya heard his thought and sat straight up, holding a book in her hands.

But she can't help but notice Damian's confusing thoughts.

"SHITT!! What did I do?? What if she thinks I'm a creep who goes around and cleans everyone's nose??!!"

Anya blinks with a confused look as she hears him think. "Sy-on boy... who the hell would think like that??!!" Anya thinks while palming her face.

Only for Becky to notice.

---

Meanwhile, back at the Forger household...

Loid returned home, still muttering under his breath about tardy daughters and peanut butter stains.

Yor greeted him at the door with a warm smile. "Welcome back! How was the drop-off?"

"Chaotic," Loid said, loosening his tie. "She overslept, barely ate, and ran off with toast hanging out of her mouth like some kind of..." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That child will be the end of me."

Yor chuckled softly. "She's just energetic. Come, breakfast is ready."

They sat down together at the kitchen table. Yor had prepared a simple morning meal — rice, miso soup, and tamagoyaki.

Loid stared at his plate for a moment. "She's going to be late every day at this rate. I should probably wake her up earlier."

"Or," Yor said gently, "you could let her be a teenager. She's growing up, Loid. A little chaos is normal."

"Normal," Loid repeated, as if tasting the word for the first time. "I wouldn't know much about that."

Yor reached across the table and patted his hand. "None of us would. But we're learning. Together."

Loid looked at her — really looked at her. This woman who wasn't his wife. This girl who wasn't his daughter. This family that wasn't supposed to be real.

And yet.

"Together," he agreed quietly.

They ate in comfortable silence, the morning sun streaming through the kitchen window.

In the living room, Bond let out a soft "borf" and curled back into his bed.

The Forger family — unconventional, chaotic, held together by secrets and lies...

...and somehow, still perfect.

---

The rest of Mr. Henderson's class was unbearable.

Not because of the history lesson — though that was also terrible. But because Damian's thoughts were so LOUD.

"Don't look at her. Don't look at her. Don't— I LOOKED. WHY DID I LOOK."

Anya pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

"She's not even paying attention. Good. Wait. Why isn't she paying attention?? Is she ignoring me?? Why do I care if she's ignoring me?? I DON'T CARE."

Anya buried her face in her textbook.

"Her hair is messy. Did she even brush it today? ...It's kinda cute. NO. STOP. UN-CUTE. THINK UN-CUTE THOUGHTS."

"...She has peanut butter on her uniform collar too."

"I wanna wipe that off as well."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME."

Anya's shoulder shook with silent laughter.

Becky leaned over, eyes narrowed. "Why are you giggling? Did that annoying Desmond do something?"

"No!" Anya whispered.

"Then why is your face red?!"

"It's... hot in here."

Becky looked at the ceiling fan, spinning at full speed. "It's literally freezing, Anya."

"SHUT UP, BECKY."

The moment the bell rang, Becky snatched Anya's wrist and DRAGGED her to the cafeteria.

"You're telling me EVERYTHING."

"There's nothing to tell—"

"He touched your FACE, Anya. With his HAND. The most annoying boy in school touched your face." Becky slammed their tray down. "Spill."

Anya blinked. "You hate him."

"I do. He's insufferable. Arrogant. Rich. Did I mention annoying?"

"Then why do you care?"

Becky grinned. "Because he's INSANELY obvious. The way he looks at you? Please. He's down BAD. I just want to watch him suffer until he finally confesses."

Anya stared. "...You're weird."

"I'm ENTERTAINED."

Just then, Damian walked into the cafeteria with his friends.

He spotted Anya.

Anya spotted him spotting her.

He immediately tripped over nothing.

Ewen caught his arm. "Dude, are you okay?!"

"FINE. I'M FINE. THE FLOOR IS JUST... UNEVEN."

The floor was perfectly even.

Anya tilted her head. "Why did he—"

Becky kicked her under the table. "Don't question it. Just WATCH."

Damian walked past their table. He didn't look at Anya. He didn't look at Anya. He was NOT going to look at Anya—

"Hi, Sy-on boy~"

He stopped.

Becky whispered loudly: "Here we go."

Damian's eye twitched. "...Forger."

"Nice weather we're having."

"It's raining."

"I know." Anya grinned. "Just wanted to hear you talk."

Damian's soul left his body.

Becky put her face in her hands. "Oh my god, he's so pathetic. I love it."

"I— you— WHAT—" Damian spun around and walked directly into a pillar.

THUD.

Becky cackled. "AGAIN?!"

His friends rushed to help him.

Anya tilted her head, confused. "Why does he keep walking into things?"

Becky grabbed her shoulders. "Anya. Sweetie. Use your brain. He's not walking into things. He's walking into YOU. Metaphorically. And also literally into that pillar."

Anya blinked. "I don't get it."

Becky sighed dramatically. "You're hopeless. Both of you."

Anya looked over at Damian, who was still on the floor, face red, being helped up by Ewen.

She could hear his thoughts clearly:

"Why does she do this to me. Why does she SAY things like that. 'Just wanted to hear you talk' — who SAYS that?! She's so— she's so— I don't even know. Annoying. Yes. Annoying. Definitely not cute. NOT cute. ...Okay maybe a little cute. NO."

Anya smiled.

"You're thinking very loudly again, Second Son."

From the floor, Damian wheezed: "I HATE YOU."

"No, you don't~"

The rest of the school day flew by. Damian was absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent NOT thinking about peanut butter. Or her nose. Or the way she said "Fy-on foy." Nope. Not at all.

The moment the bell rang, Damian bolted out of the classroom without a second thought.

Ewen and Emile exchanged a confused look — "what just happened?" — before glancing toward Anya and Becky, who were taking their time packing up.

Anya looked up. "What? I don't know anything."

Becky smirked, looking between the boys and her clueless best friend.

"Well," Becky said, "I don't think she knows anything. Or will she ever know."

The boys nodded in agreement, like, "Yeah, we agree with her, dude."

Anya tried to read their minds to figure out what she didn't know — but their thoughts were all over the place. Nothing made sense. The more she listened, the more confused she got.

Suddenly, Becky clapped her hands. "I know! How about we make a group?"

Emile shrugged. "Yeah, sounds good."

Ewen nodded. "Yep."

Anya's brain short-circuited. How did "What to do about Damian-sama" turn into "Let's make a group"?

---

Becky was already typing on her phone, a wicked grin on her face.

"Done. I've named it 'Operation: Make Damian Spill His Feelings.'"

Emile raised an eyebrow. "That's... a long name."

"It's a long operation," Becky said without looking up.

Operation: Make Damian Spill His Feelings

Becky: Okay listen up

Becky: Damian is being insufferable

Emile: ...why am I here

Becky: You're his best friend. You're ESSENTIAL

Ewen: I'm scared

Becky: Good. Now here's the plan

Emile stared at his phone. "The name is kind of... tacky."

Becky gasped. "It's called STRATEGIC."

"It's called embarrassing," Emile muttered. "Also, shouldn't we just add Damian? This feels wrong."

Ewen nodded. "Yeah, he's going to be insufferable when he finds out."

Becky crossed her arms. "Fine. But if he asks, THIS WAS NOT MY IDEA."

She tapped her phone.

Becky added Damian to the group

Damian has left the group

Silence.

"...Did he just—" Emile started.

Becky added Damian to the group

Damian has left the group

Ewen snorted. "This is the funniest thing I've ever seen."

Becky added Damian to the group

Damian: STOP ADDING ME 😑

Becky: Stop leaving then 💅

Damian: I HATE ALL OF YOU

Emile: Dude, just mute the chat

Damian: ...

Damian: ...fine

---

Damian: What's with this name?

Becky: It's strategic 💅

Damian: It's ridiculous. Change it.

Becky: No ☺️

Damian: EWEN. CHANGE IT.

Ewen: Why me?? I didn't even make it

Damian: You're the only sensible one

Emile: ...ouch

Becky: The name stays. End of discussion.

Damian: I'm leaving again

Becky: I'll just add you back 😏

Damian: I HATE THIS GROUP

Becky: You haven't even done anything yet

Damian: WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BE DOING

Becky: 😏

Damian: ...why did you send that

Becky: No reason 😇

Anya looked up from her phone. "Why does he keep threatening to leave but never actually does?"

Becky looked at her with the biggest grin. "Oh, Anya. Sweet, sweet Anya."

---

Damian: I don't care. Change the name.

Becky: Make me 😏

Damian: I'M SERIOUS

Becky: So am I

Emile: ...can we just pick something normal?

Ewen: Like "Group Chat"?

Emile: That's boring

Ewen: That's the POINT

Damian: JUST PICK SOMETHING

Becky: Fine. How about... "Damian Is Definitely Not Thinking About Peanut Butter"? 🥜

Damian: I HATE YOU

Becky: You said you don't care

Damian: I'M LEAVING

Becky: You said that five times already

Damian: ...

Emile: Just mute it, dude

Damian: I DID

Emile: Then why are you still replying

Damian: ...

Ewen: Got him there

---

Becky: FINE. Fine. You're all so dramatic.

Damian: US?? YOU MADE THE NAME

Becky: And now I'm changing it. You're WELCOME.

Group name changed to: The Chat

Emile: ...that's it?

Becky: Damian wanted something boring. He got something boring.

Damian: I didn't say THAT boring

Becky: THERE'S NO WINNING WITH YOU

Ewen: Can we please just... exist peacefully

Emile: Yeah. No plotting. No weird names. Just a normal group chat.

Damian: ...fine

Becky: Fine

Anya: I still don't know what's happening but okay

Damian: FORGER YOU'RE IN THIS CHAT TOO??

Anya: ...yes?

Damian: WHY

Becky: Because she's part of the group 💕

Damian: WHAT GROUP

Becky: The Chat

Damian: I'M —

Ewen: Don't say you're leaving

Damian: ...

Damian: I hate everyone here

Emile: But you're still here

Damian: SHUT UP

Anya looked up from her phone. "He's still here."

Becky smiled. "I know."