"You don't have any friends at school, do you little brother? How sad."
"I'll make one. I swear I'll make a real friend and I'll prove to you I can do it."
"Bet."
***
Click.
Click.
Damian had been clicking his pen idly throughout the lesson, his mind plenty occupied with things other than his teachers dull voice. His hooded eyes stared blankly into the back of his classmates head, a small tear formed as he let out a yawn. The boy hadn't slept in days because of a simple bet he made with his brother that put him way out of his comfort zone.
Click.
He had to make a friend.
Click.
A real friend that he could take to his house to meet his brother and parents, proving that he'd won the bet and come out on top.
Click.
Where? How? Who? There's nobody in the entire school that considered Damian to be on their level, let alone a friend. To them he was a higher being, a leader, some sort of inspiration that his father painted him to be. Turns out the little boy didn't feel inspiring. He just felt isolated.
Click.
Crack!
His pen burst and black ink sprayed in every direction, almost cinematically. The back of the person infront of him fell victim to most of the explosion. When they squealed and turned around they were met with Damian Desmond, flustered as ever, comically covered in ink. His entire face was speckled with tiny black dots and a large puddle of black was spreading right over the centre of his jumper. Damian's face shone pink when he realised that the whole class was staring at both him and Anya Forger, who was unfortunate enough to be sitting infront of him.
"Anya-" he was at a loss for words. She picked her jaw up off the floor and ran to the bathroom, leaving a bewildered and mortified Damian standing up in his seat being lectured by the teacher.
Once he was given permission to go to the bathroom and get clean, he wasted no time in scrubbing all the ink off his face. Sure, his sweater was ruined but he could replace that any day and he had a spare in his bag for emergencies like this. After a splash of cold water to the face, he was ready to go back to class. That was until he heard a sniffle in the hallway.
"Whose there!?" He yelled, his eyes scanning for an intruder. On his tiptoes, he approached the curtain and yanked it back triumphantly.
"Gotcha- Anya?"
The small pink haired girl was curled up in a ball behind the curtain, shivering. Her sweater was in her hands and her eyes were on the massive ink stain on its back. When she saw Damian, she swiftly tucked it behind her and wiped the tears from her eyes. However, he'd seen enough.
"Anya, what are you doing inside a curtain for goodness sake? Also put your damn jumper on, it's freezing out here!" She didn't reply to his words, only staring at him holding back tears. The boy sighed and looked over hi shoulder before softening his tone.
"You really should put that jumper on Anya, it's far too cold for you to just wear your shirt."
"But... I can't wear this! You know how the kids are here, I'll get picked on!" Her cry was desperate and Damian cocked his head.
"Don't you have a spare?"
Anya shook her head, making Damian think for a moment. After checking over his shoulder again, he whispered into her ear.
"Wait here." Before running off towards the boys lockers. After a few minutes he came panting back with his spare sweater in his hand. He shoved it into Anya's lap, unable to make eye contact. The girl's eyes widened and she slipped it over her shoulders, rolling the sleeves up so that they didn't fall past her hands.
"It's a bit big..." Anya thought to herself.
Damian wanted to giggle, the jumper was way too big for her. She seemed really happy though so he didn't say anything about it.
