kirinara0
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“Damian,” she breathed his name, softly, as she tiptoed yet again to reach his face.
“Sy-on boy,” he corrected. Damian hooked his fingers under her chin. “I’m your sy-on boy.”
When you're an Imperial Scholar for twelve consecutive years, you're supposed to be brimming with happiness. When you've never gotten a Tonitrus Bolt during your entire stay at Eden Academy, you should be all but overwhelmed with pride.
And, more importantly, when your indifferent father finally noticed you, and at long last acknowledged you as the Desmond family’s second son, you should be singing along with the holy angels in seventh heaven.
But that was not the case for Damian.