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He started today expecting it to happen.
With midterms in full swing, you didn’t even have to be a mind-reader to feel the tension in the air across campus. Constant worry from a bunch of adolescents over whether they’ve practiced all of the laws that will be on the physics exam, if they need to read that history passage again, can they remember all of the verb forms for the language practical.
Exam week always created this stuffy, nervous sensation that spread over Eden College like radio waves. And without fail, you could trace the source of the signal back to the exam boards located at the ends of the halls or out in the courtyards. It was one thing to sit in uncertainty about your academic fate, letting the day go on as it was typically out of your hands after you submitted that paper. It was another entirely to have it posted for all to see and compare their own scores against.
Damian wasn’t immune to the feeling, by any means. If anything, the high scorers in their class ought to be the most worried about such times. Not a question of whether they failed, but of whether that so delicately spotless record they kept up would remain so. To an average student, a mediocre or failing grade doesn’t have much of an effect in most cases. To an honors student, however, it only takes one mistake, one bad day to commit an act that can’t be undone.
Still, he could handle it. He had built up a strong defense in the event of actual failure. Practiced breathing exercises, learned to accept one bad grade didn’t make him, considered where he went wrong in order to better prepare for the next exam.
She, on the other hand, never found that mental peace.
Or rather, could never find the mental peace in others.
“Just a quick look!” she insisted, tugging on his sleeve and drawing them further into the crowd. “We’ll be here too briefly for anything to happen.”
“Anya, you say that every time. And it doesn’t change the outcome.” The grimace twisted deeper on his face.
“It was only one exam this time, though. Come on, it’ll only take a moment and then we can spend the rest of the time outside.” Oh, they would spend time outside, alright. He couldn’t find anywhere else to take her that would give her some respite from the high-stress environment.
“Really, Anya, it’s not worth it. Please don’t…” She had already pulled them too deep into the fray. Before she could even seem to locate her name on the board, Damian caught the telltale signs: slight twitches in her face, hair being not-so-subtly pushed in front of her ears, as if that did anything. Feet shifting in place, trying to hide the fact that her knees weren’t holding her steady like they should. And– there it was. Bloody nose.
“Congratulations on lasting all of fourteen seconds this time,” he said flatly. He already had the tissues out of his pocket pressed up to her face, ushering them quickly back out the crowd with a firm hand between her shoulder blades.
Anya turned back to where the crowd pushed forward in the opposite direction of the pair. “What are they all looking at?”
“Trying to find the score that was bad enough to make a girl weak in the knees and break into a nosebleed, I imagine.” He took advantage of the distraction to scoop one hand under her legs and the other around her shoulders. As he picked up the pace to get them somewhere quieter, he took a slight detour to nab a couple of water bottles. He was really quite proud of the system he had in place, simple as it was. After the first few fainting spells, he had narrowed down which halls most frequently posted their year’s scores and stocked nearby unused lockers at each location with everything she needed. Water, tissues, damp towels, even a few sick bags (and a prayer that he never had to grab any of those). As long as he kept an eye on his supply, he had constructed the perfect Fainting Mind Reader Preparedness Kit– less stupid title still in development.
She curled further into him as they walked out into the daylight. “How’s your stomach?” he asked.
“Twisted,” she mumbled sleepily. “I feel sick.”
He walked them faster, but tried to be careful not to jostle her too much. “As much as I love you, do not throw up on me again, I have a lab later today.” Here should be far enough from everyone. He let her down to one of the benches in a more isolated part of the gardens, taking a seat next to her. Her head lulled against his shoulder. “Drink,” he urged, pressing one of the bottles into her hand.
“Mmph.” She kept her face pressed into his sleeve with the determination of a toddler not ready to get out of bed in the morning. He shifted his arm to force her to roll back into the light.
“Come on,” he said, wetting another tissue with the second water and wiping the remaining blood from her nose and lips. “You’ll feel less crappy if you’re hydrated.”
She finally brought the rim of the bottle to her lips, slowly at first but eventually taking a long draft as the sensation of thirst overwhelmed her. She leaned back after the fact with a sigh. Sitting back alongside her, Damian pulled some of her hair back to allow more air to reach her face and neck. He tried to lighten the mood a little with more casual conversation. “So what were they worried about this time?”
She took another swig. “Number seventeen. The essay question had a lot of people thrown off, it seems.”
Ah. That one had him stumped too, to be honest. An analysis of some obscure battle or another, he couldn’t quite remember. It wasn’t worth the professor putting it on the exam or his dwelling on it, though.
“Hey!” She sat up and shook his knee to grab his attention. At least she seemed a little more spirited. “I didn’t get to see my score. What did I make?”
“Hm? Oh, an 83.”
She fell back to the bench in a slump. “Eh.”
“What’s ‘eh’? You’re up five points from last time.”
“I dunno,” she shrugged. “Whole lot of drama over an 83. Not really worth passing out over.”
The nerve of this girl– “Oh my goodness gracious, Anya!” he exclaimed. “Running up to the grades board in the middle of a crowd of anxious students was not worth it! Where could we have heard that prediction before? Who could have seen this coming?” He threw his hands up in mock surprise. “Really, a query for the ages to ponder–”
“God, you’re so dramatic.” She silenced him with a hand shoved up against his jaw.
“I’m dramatic for your sake,” he informed her, pulling her back down to him with an arm draped over her shoulders. “Who else is gonna wait for you to pass out in a crowd and fuss over you? I don’t see Becky stepping up to the plate.”
“I’m sure she would make an attempt if she were here,” she tried to defend her friend. Before he could fathom a response, she caught him again, cupping a hand around his cheek and bringing his face closer to hers with a brief kiss laid on his lips and a hazy smile tossed up to him. “Although I do appreciate the concern, drama and all.” He sputtered above her, the dizzying effects of the afternoon’s events now transferred to him.
There were many things Anya did that had taught him to be prepared.
And a few more that still left him entirely unable to react.