Disclaimer: I do not own the Spy x Family series or its characters.

Content Warning: Mentions of depressive and suicidal thinking, as well as thoughts of self-harm.

Title Inspiration: "You There" by Aquilo

Sadness had a way of blocking the mind.

When a person was happy, they tended to see the world around them. They may find beauty in nature or go through a laundry list of chores in their head or hum their favorite tune under their breath.

Whatever it was, the mind was always working.

But when a person was sad, they tended to not think much at all. At least, not about the world around them.

Sadness was like a thick fog in a person's mind. Or like a wet blanket that covered the person in a heavy weight. Keeping their thoughts only to themselves—their fears, burdens, and anxieties… all to themselves.

Anya had felt that sadness in some adult's minds and even in some of her fellow classmates at Eden Academy.

She didn't like reading the minds of sad people because it made her sad as well. It was a bad sad.

But in all the years she had known him, she had never felt that heavy sadness inside her very own Sy-on boy. She had never imagined he was even capable of feeling that kind of sadness. The bad sad.

They were teenagers now. She and Damian were still in the same class, but they were older and more mature. At least Anya liked to believe she had become more mature.

Oh, and she and Damian were dating.

The fact was more like an afterthought, just because of how little things changed after she and Damian had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Or: Anya knew Damian liked her and she finally realized that she liked the tall teenager with the attitude of a grumpy old man back.

And like the grumpy old man Damian was, affection was something that he struggled to get used to.

Affection was such an obscure idea to him that nobody in school knew they were in a relationship since nothing had really changed. It wasn't that they were trying to keep their relationship a secret, it was just that they hadn't felt the need to tell anyone about their relationship status.

Sometimes Damian would walk by her in a crowded hall and Anya would make sure that their fingers grazed each other as they passed, making Damian blush so profusely that Anya could almost see steam pour out of his ears.

But overall, they respected and cared for each other, even loved (though they both never really said it out-loud) each other, and that was enough for now.

Except when they'd have their make-out sessions in their special corner of the school where no one would see them (but that's beside the point).

Though their relationship had become closer, Anya felt a little more distanced from Damian than she had in a long time. They had missed their weekly make-out session since Damian had a study group he was leading and all her lunches were spent with Damian… and Becky and Emile and Ewan, so it was hard getting some alone time where Damian could just be himself.

Also, with Anya's newfound morals, it made it more difficult for her to reach out to her Sy-on boy. She had learned to handle her powers a little more and now had the ability to control whose thoughts she could read. She learned to respect people's privacy, using her abilities only in situations where it was needed.

But sometimes, without her mind reading abilities constantly at play, Anya tended to be a bit more oblivious to the human psyche.

This was why reading Damian's mind on a casual Wednesday morning felt like being doused in freezing water.

A shock to the system and not at all pleasing.

Damian's mind had always brought her comfort. He was always so sweet to her in his mind, despite all the snarky comments he made out loud.

Damian's mind whirred with a thousand thoughts a minute. An aside about a homework assignment, a reminder about his piano recital, or an update on how his dog, Max, was doing.

Reading Damian's mind was like a gateway into a busy city, where there was something to see and do at every turn.

Of course, as humans, sad thoughts did intrude once in a while, but in a happy mind, the sadness never really had room to stay for long.

Happy thoughts, reassuring thoughts, and plain ol' logical thoughts always overpowered the negative beliefs that may have wormed their way in.

Damian was good at pushing those negative worms away.

When he stood alone during Parent's Visitation Day, when he scored his lowest grade in language arts, when he lost his first big league tennis match… All those moments, Anya watched out for him.

She didn't want that sadness to take over. If the sadness took over, it wouldn't just be normal sad, it would be the bad sad. And the bad sad hurt. It hurt a lot.

So while the sadness stuck around for a little while, its staticky silence feeling like a restricting chokehold, Damian always managed to bounce back. It especially went away after Anya bounded over to him with a few well-meaning words, which Damian always seemed to take the wrong way.

He'd yell at her, telling her to go away and that she was annoying, but in his head, he thanked her and was grateful she spoke to him at all.

So Anya continued to pursue him.

And eventually she reached him.

But now, he was too far from her.

Operation Strix was still in the works, but both Anya and Loid had determined that Damian Desmond was not the right path to pursue Donovan Desmond.

It was almost like Donovan barely even recognized the fact that he had a second son, so Loid had chosen other means to get closer to the senior Desmond.

However, the fact remained that Anya had grown fond of her Sy-on boy. So even if he wouldn't be of much help in Operation Strix, Anya had still wanted to be friends with him (and more).

After all, it's always important as a spy to have connections with all kinds of people. Even tall, dark-haired boys whose only mission in life was to get their father's attention. Especially those boys.

Anya figured that maybe Damian's search for his father's love may have faded as they had grown up. They were older now and it was not like Donovan Desmond was showing any sign of changing or taking on a more parental role.

Yet, Damian never gave up hope.

Out of all the minds that Anya had ever read, Damian was, surprisingly, always the most positive. He was the most optimistic. He was the most hopeful.

Was. Was. Was.

Looking at Damian now, she had to assume he had been feeling the bad sad for a while now. She had just never noticed.

She should have noticed.

The only reason she had tuned in today was because she had missed a slide in the lecture and knew from past mind reading experience that Damian always ran through the past slides in his head from the notes.

But when she tuned in… notes were the last thing on his mind.

She listened to Damian's mind now. Just a stormy whirlpool of pain and heartbreak.

There was no real beginning to his thoughts and no end. Just a haunting whisper. One after another. Most of the thoughts were unintelligible, but Anya could make out a few of the repeats. The words that stood out in the quiet storm.

Deafening silence and blaring discord.

Chaos and disharmony all at once.

It was painful and Anya was just on the outside looking in.

Worthless. Useless.

Stupid.

Waste of space.

Disappointment.

These were all words Anya could make out of the disarray, but it wasn't everything.

No, at the front of Damian's mind was… absolutely nothing at all.

Damian sat in the front of class, his eyes looking straight at the chalkboard, but he was not seeing anything. It was like he had completely disassociated from reality.

As a child, Damian had a terrible poker face. Perhaps not as bad as Anya, but Damian tended to wear his emotions on his face pretty obviously—someone, anyone, just had to pay a little attention to see it.

But now, Damian was a master of disguises. Anya didn't even know the sadness had gotten to Damian until it was so bad that Anya had to shut her own mind to prevent herself from drowning in it.

She wiped away a small tear that had unknowingly formed in the corner of her eye and let out a small sigh.

As if he could sense Anya's turmoil, even while he was in his own, Damian turned in his seat to catch Anya's eyes. He tilted his head, giving her a look of concern, and Anya shook her head.

Worry about yourself, Sy-on boy.

Damian gave her a small smile, a bashful look that Anya had been privy to more than anyone else in his life, and turned back to face the front.

If she hadn't read his mind at that moment, it would have looked like nothing was wrong.

Emile and Ewen didn't suspect a thing. If they did, they would have told Anya about it immediately. As much as it would have disgruntled Damian, they would do anything for their Boss-man. They would do anything to make sure he was okay, which he clearly was not.

So if his two best friends didn't suspect a thing, Anya figured that nobody in the world knew what was going on in Damian Desmond's head.

The bell rang for the students to shuffle on to their next class.

Anya clambered out of her seat, ignoring Becky's questioning call, and tried to reach out to Damian. But Damian sensed her coming and darted to the front of the class, near the teacher, pretending like he had a question about the lecture, as if he was paying any attention to it at all.

While Anya and Becky walked down the hall, Anya realized she felt kind of relieved that she didn't have to talk to Damian. Whenever she heard those people with the bad sad, she tried to avoid them. Hearing their self-deprecating thoughts and their hopelessness was like a vise around her heart. On their rampage to bring themselves down, the bad sad strangled her and brought her down in the process.

But with Damian… with her Sy-on boy… She couldn't just not do anything. But what could Anya possibly do? Anya was… Anya. She could never say the right things.

Anya bit down on her lower lip in thought. Maybe Damian was just having a no-good day. Maybe it wasn't the bad sad. Maybe Damian was just feeling the normal sad and he'd be back to his normal happy self the next day. Maybe Anya didn't need to do anything.

Everything would be fine.

That was what Anya convinced herself as she and Becky seated themselves on the highchairs in their next class: Home Economics.

Eden Academy took family and consumer sciences very seriously. After all, the heart of elegance lied in a good family and upbringing.

Every class, the students would develop skills to help them manage a household in the future. From learning to take fiscal responsibility to learning how to sew, the students would do it all.

Many of the upper-class students groaned and grumbled about having to learn about peasant work, but to Anya, it was fascinating to study the inner-workings of how to run a household.

Did spies even pay taxes? Ooh, and learning to sew could be like learning how to stitch a wound!

Okay, so maybe Anya still tended to make all the learning she did in school related to being a spy. But her papa taught her how important it was that spies knew how to run a family, so Anya believed the class was of the utmost importance.

Which was why she was excited to hear the teacher announce that they were going to start their cooking training.

Finally, Anya mentally cheered, now me and Papa can cook, and Mama will never have to cook for us ever again!

Anya's eyes unconsciously searched for Damian's in the crowd of students bustling to get into groups of three to begin working in their mini classroom kitchen, but Damian had already found a group with Emile and Ewen. However, she made sure to choose a kitchenette that was in close proximity to Damian, just to keep an eye… or an ear… or a brain out for any of Damian's bad sad thoughts.

She made the mistake of blocking him out once, and she was not about to do it again… even if it hurt a lot every time Damian unconsciously hurled another insult at himself.

While Becky started reading through the list of ingredients necessary to make a basic vegetable soup, Anya began to listen in on Damian's thoughts.

I don't even need to take this damn class, Damian mused as his other group members began to take out the pots and pans, If Father had a say, he would probably marry me off to some rich girl I wouldn't even meet until my wedding day and we'll have the kitchen staff do all this work for us.

Anya mentally gasped at the image of Damian in a wedding tuxedo marrying a beautiful faceless woman and them having dinner at a table that stretched from one end of the room to the other with the two of them on either side, far, far away from each other. The table was filled with all kinds of delicious foods that was brought in by a lovely staff—food that Damian had no part in making.

Dinner was so detached and lonely. The usual.

Would Father even come to my wedding? Damian wondered, his mind briefly flashed from a faceless woman to a beautiful older-looking Anya dressed in white. Hmm, probably not.

Then, Damian started playing a game with himself, as he accepted the cutting board from Ewen to start chopping up the carrots for the soup.

Would Father come to my piano recital? Yeah, like he ever did.

Would he come if I was winning the Ostania Championship in tennis? Ha, he wouldn't come if I won the World Championship.

Would Father come to my 18th birthday party?

What if I had my first child? Would Father want to meet his grandchild?

Would Father come? Would Father come? Would Father come?

No, no, no.

CHOP.

With gritted teeth, Damian let the knife slam down on the cutting board leaving a thickly sliced carrot to roll around lazily before plopping down on its flat side.

But if it was Brother, then Father would most definitely come, wouldn't he? Because Demetrius always comes first. If I could just do better. If I could just be better…

Damian shook his head, trying to tune back into Ewen and Emile's conversation. He watched his friends talk back-and-forth.

Gesturing with his spoon wildly, Ewen recounted the latest episode of Berlint in Love. Becky had forced everyone in their friend group to start watching and, surprisingly, Ewen had taken the greatest interest in the show, watching the many, many episodes and catching up on all the lore even faster than Becky had.

In the latest installment, the main hero had sacrificed himself by jumping in front of a bullet from the villain in order to save the heroine. The episode ended with the hero bleeding out on the floor, his head resting in his lover's lap as she cried over him.

Ewen claimed he wasn't worried about the fate of the hero, insisting that it was just a show and it was stupid to be worried about a fictional character, but Anya involuntarily heard all of his thoughts while trying to listen to Damian and worrying about a fictional character was all Ewen did.

On the outside, Damian thumped Ewen on the back, teasing him along with Emile about how he started watching the show to impress Becky and became even more obsessed with it than her, but on the inside, Damian's mind had taken a much darker route.

The image of the blank-faced Berlint in Love hero had switched to an image of Damian Desmond.

What if I died? The haunting thought crept in. Would Father come to my funeral?

Right, as if. He'd probably have a meeting that day. A meeting so important that he can't reschedule, even for his dead second son.

What does it matter anyway? I'd already be dead.

Damian blinked once. Then twice.

But maybe, just maybe, he'd care enough if I was dead.

Anya ceased any action of pretending to cook in the kitchen as she stared wide-eyed at the other side of the classroom, where Damian was still currently chopping away at the carrots. His expression remained blank, like his only thoughts were of getting the vegetables into the broth, but Anya was the only one who knew otherwise.

"Anya, what the hell! You're letting the onions burn!" Becky pushed her away from the stove and Anya easily complied, swaying as she was completely entranced by the bad sad thoughts in Damian's mind.

If I let this knife fall… Damian slowed his chopping down, carefully studying the weapon in his hand. Just a quick little nick; just a small slash or a shallow cut. But enough that I might have to go to a hospital. Would he come then?

Would Father visit me… if I was on the brink of death?

Images flashed in Anya's mind of dark crimson blood spilling on the pristine white floor; she saw Damian being carried out on a stretcher, a heart monitor letting out a steady beep, and a clear IV bag dangling. She saw a drab and uncomfortable hospital bed in an empty hospital room. Then, it went back to the image of the monitor now flat-lining and letting out a chilling alarm.

Damian let out a cynical scoff under his breath. Wouldn't that be— "Huh? Oi!"

The knife that Damian had been using to meticulously cut the carrots with fell to the floor many, many meters away from the body of the boy that was once holding it in a death grip.

The silver metal clattered loudly, rattling side to side before settling silently on the white tile floor. The kitchen became still with the only noise coming from the boiling of the broths and the sizzling of the stoves.

The whole class, including Damian, stared at Anya. Anya, who had just leapt across her own kitchenette to a boy who was doing absolutely nothing to her and grabbed the knife he was using, only to toss it to the floor. Anya stared back at Damian and Damian alone. Her heart raced and giant tears formed in her eyes.

The terrible images Damian had conjured in his mind still flashed in her own, even though Damian's own thoughts had been replaced with confusion and bewilderment at the sight of Anya on his side of the classroom.

"Ms. Forger," the teacher began, breaking the awkward silence. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I—" Anya looked down at her hands, which still clasped onto Damian's hand, the hand that was once holding the terrible, stupid knife. After she had thrown the knife to the floor, she had grabbed his hand in desperation. She was desperate to make sure he was okay. That he was unharmed, unlike what his fantasies featured.

Damian also noticed his hand in hers and though he started to blush a rosy red, he made no attempt to wriggle his hand out of hers. Not that Anya would have let him.

After his exclamation at Anya slamming into him to take his knife, Damian had made no other noise. He continued to stare at her, like the rest of the class, waiting for some kind of explanation to Anya's strange actions.

Anya finally settled on an excuse. "I don't like carrots."

There was a lull in the class's reaction and then all at once the class began to laugh at her, easily pushing off her actions as a classic Anya move. Damian let out a nervous chuckle, ready to accept that lie, but Anya knew he did not believe a word that came out of her mouth.

The teacher, on the other hand, was not as ready to let the situation slide.

"Ms. Forger, I will not have you disrupting my class or Mr. Desmond's education. I have no choice but to send you to the—"

"Wait, sir," Damian interrupted, "I- I'm sure it was a mistake. Anya, she… I probably messed up the recipe and- and- or I could have accidently hit her with a carrot slice. Ah, yes!" Damian came up with an excuse on the fly, though Anya was sure her excuse making skills were far more superior. "I threw a carrot at her and I know she doesn't like carrots, so- so really it's my fault, sir."

Damian, Damian, Damian. Her stupid, precious Sy-on boy. Why did he have to take responsibility for everything? Why did he have to bear the burden of everything alone?

Anya burst into tears on the spot and Damian jumped at the explosion of emotion from the girl who still had a tight grip on his hand.

"O- Oi," Damian muttered, his face expressing his uneasiness even more. "I'm sorry."

Don't be sorry, Sy-on boy. Don't be sad. Don't get married to a random rich girl. Don't have dinner all alone. Don't plan your funeral. Don't try to hurt yourself. "Don't die."

"Huh?" Damian asked.

Oh, Anya realized she had said that last part out loud.

The male teacher looked uncomfortable at the sight of the pink-haired teenage girl crying giant droplets of tears right in front of him, so it was very easy for Damian to get permission to escort Anya to the nurses' office to treat her for supposed overheating and exhaustion from the flames of the stove.

The two of them wandered down the hall with Damian leading the way and Anya falling a step behind, their hands still clasped together. Anya continued to sniffle with tears that refused to cease. Though she tried to not be as loud as when she was younger, her emotions still tended to get the better of her.

It took a few minutes for Anya to realize that Damian was leading them to a place in the opposite direction of the nurses' office. A place where it was just the two of them alone with no one else to listen in. A place where Damian and Anya could finally be themselves. Away from fathers and rules and Stella Stars and societal hierarchies. Just Damian and Anya. Just boyfriend and girlfriend.

Once they had reached their destination, a small unused classroom, Damian whirled around to face her. He had a piercing look on his face, as he leaned in towards her. In her shock, Anya dropped the hand she was holding and nearly missed the way Damian's hand flexed, as if missing the warmth that it was once holding.

"What did you mean when you said, 'Don't die,' to me, huh?" Damian questioned. "What was that about?"

Another bout of tears welled in her eyes as Anya heard Damian think, How did she know?

"You're sad, Damian."

Many thoughts whirled in Damian's mind, all at once, reminding Anya of how his normal train of thinking happened.

His first and loudest thought was cheering and simultaneously screaming because Anya had called him by his name instead of the stupid nickname.

The second thought was of how serious Anya sounded and how she never really sounded like that before.

His third fleeting thought was wondering if something was wrong with Anya and if she needed his help.

And finally, the thought that swam in and out of his mind since Anya had first demanded that he not die: How did she even know I was thinking about it?

"You had a strange look when you were using the knife," Anya explained quietly, even though that was not the case, "I didn't want to take the risk."

"Oh…" Damian looked ashamed at being caught for having such terrible thoughts. "I suppose I was just thinking about it. I was never going to actually do it. I- I'm sorry for concerning you, Anya."

"Why were you thinking about it?" Anya demanded answers, pushing both her hands lightly against Damian, making him stumble a step back. "If you're feeling bad sad, why didn't you tell me or Ewen or Emile?"

"I—"

"Why did you keep it to yourself?" She pounded her fists against his chest to punctuate her words, refusing to look him in the eye.

"Um…"

"Who's making you feel like this?"

"It's not li—"

"Is it your father? Or is it your brother? Or- or your mother? Is she—?"

"Anya, it's not…"

"How long have you been—"

"Anya!" Damian exclaimed loudly. His voice echoed slightly in the empty classroom. "Enough."

Anya's eyes welled with tears again and she tilted her head up to look at him. "I just want to know what's wrong. I want to- to help."

Taking a step back, Damian sighed and rubbed tiredly at his forehead, letting the hand run down his face. "That's just it, Anya. I don't- I mean- Nothing's wrong. Absolutely nothing is wrong and there's nothing you can do to help because I'm fine."

"But…" Anya thought back to the terrible words Damian repeated to himself. "Your father. Did he… did he say anything to you? Did he do anything to you? Did your mother say anything to you?"

"My mother is my mother, nothing's really changed. And my father's the same as he's always been. And… and I'm the same as I have always been." Damian closed his eyes and let out a breath. "I'm seventeen now, Anya. I'm almost a man and I- I still feel like a boy when I'm around him. When he does show up, that is. It's like I still need his attention and his affection and his lo- Just him. But I know now. I just know that's not going to happen."

Damian opened his eyes to look at Anya, trying to blink back tears. "Because- because nothing I do will ever be enough. Even though I try so hard! I'm not enough! I'm stupid and worthless and—oof!"

Anya wrapped her arms around his midsection, hiding her face in his button-up shirt.

What should she say? What could she say?

I don't want you to think those bad sad thoughts.

You don't get to think those terrible things about yourself because it hurts me too.

You are enough.

You're not stupid and worthless.

You are kind and funny and loving and handsome and absolutely perfect.

You're my Sy-on boy.

Mine.

Not your father's, not your brother's, not your mother's, and not some random rich girl's that you will marry and only meet on the day of your wedding.

You are mine, Damian, and you are more than enough for me.

But she couldn't say any of those things because Damian would think she was crazy and selfish for thinking those things.

But Anya was crazy and selfish and she wanted Damian near her forever.

Just standing here, her whole body flush against his, her ear near his heart, hearing every thump, thump, thump, was what Anya wanted forever.

Please don't leave selfish little Anya, she thought to herself.

"Hey, Anya." Damian hesitated, his whole body stiff as a board, but then he brought a hand up and laid it gently on Anya's back, feeling her tiny trembling body. "I'm… I shouldn't have said those things and made you uncomfortable. I'm so—"

"Damian," Anya interrupted carefully, not wanting to hear any more of his apologies. "Can you…" She looked up at him dolefully, with eyes as green as a sparkling emerald. "Can you come home with me?"

He studied her for a moment, his hand still resting on the small of her back and her arms still wrapped tightly around him. He studied the way she had to tilt her head to look up at him because she was still so much shorter than him. How, though her height had only inched up ever so slowly, her hair had quickly grown so much longer.

He studied her round cheeks and noticed how it had lost some of that baby fat from childhood, but never lost that rosy tinge that naturally brightened her face. He studied how her glossy pink lips remained parted after asking such an impulsive question and how her green eyes gleamed because she already knew his answer.

He studied her determined expression and her bold grip on him, both literally and metaphorically.

He remembered how he had loved her so much when they were younger and how he still did.

He remembered how he could never say 'no' to her.

And probably never would.

Author's Note: Hey guys, just a reminder that this will be a two-shot and the second part will include Forger family time, so stay tuned for that! As always, please leave a review if you enjoyed reading cause it would make my day! :)

-Basil