“The moon is friend for the lonesome to talk to.”
— Carl Sandburg
. . .
Sorpresa, sorpresa per la mia principessa!” (Surprise, surprise to my princess!) he cheered as he popped up from behind her overlarge, mahogany desk, take out bags from the Heavenly Goods Shoppe dangling nicely in each of his hand, “…I HAVE COME BEARING GIFTS!”
Meanwhile, from the wide-open doorway, still dressed in AST’s standard school uniform and matching coat, as well the usual wrist-length gloves, Cassandra only blinked at him, one hand still resting on the doorknob while her bodyguard–Anton… Anthony… was it? –was lingering a few steps behind her as they both stared at him in clear shock and confusion. They obviously hadn’t expected him to be there.
He stood there, still in a welcoming, celebratory pose with both of his arms splayed out, a now strained smile on his face at their prolonged silence.
“Er… cupcakes, everyone?”
Seriously, isn’t Cassandra going to react–or even say something? Wasn’t she supposed to cry tears of joy or at least have the decency to act happy to see him?! He… he did bring her favorite cupcakes… vanilla and cinnamon, right?
Wait.
Is she just… going to stand there?!
A few hours earlier, before Cassandra comes here straight from the academy for work (seriously, she needs a hobby), he had called Cyan ahead and informed him of his plan to surprise the unica figlia of the Lunamor family since he arrived way ahead of schedule and Cyan had given him the green light to get in the building, laughing over the phone as he did so.
Now he understood why the little brat was laughing, that little traitor… Cassandra only stared at him with that atypical, blank look on her face that could mean a whole lot of things.
"Signorina Lunamor... devo rimuoverlo dall'ufficio o devo chiamare la sicurezza?" her bodyguard suddenly asked when the lady boss didn’t so much make a sound or a single reaction–like a freaking normal person for once. ("Miss Lunamor ... should I remove him from the office, or should I call security?")
And when he did process, did translated what the man just said, he immediately blanched, “Huh? W-W-Wait… what?! EXCUSE ME BUT WHAT THE FUCK?!”
Cassandra–freaking finally–let out a huff as she dismissively waved a gloved hand at her bodyguard’s direction, “…Non sarà necessario, Anton. È un mio amico d'infanzia.” (That will not be necessary, Anton. He is a childhood friend of mine.)
At such a dispassionate response, he made a good show of crossing his arms with a feigned pout, although he was still mindful as to not to disturb the good ole cupcakes (because hell yeah, he recommends these doses of awesomeness and happiness combined, a ten out of ten) from their containers, “Just a friend, princess? Or have you forgotten that we’re supposed to get married this year?!”
Anton’s eyes widened almost comically while his lady boss shot him such an unimpressed stare, “No need to announce something that’s never going to happen, stupido.”
He clutched at his heart, “So mean!”
“Since when was I nice?”
“Naturally,” he smirked as he placed the bags down on her desk. “…that’s why I got us food to celebrate it being called off. Good thing I didn’t brought you a ring just for you to give back, eh?”
Cassandra casted him one of those irritated glances that eerily reminded him of Colorado for a few seconds but didn’t ignore the treats placed in front of her judging by how her glance lingered at them, “Celebrating this is terribly inappropriate, your highness.”
“But dating your prof and making a big show of it isn’t?” he retorted, shaking his head at her, “Man, your morals are getting real fucked up with age, huh?”
She paused.
His smirk widened.
“Never underestimate the power of social media, darling,” he drawled with a shit-eating grin before he whirled away to longue on her seat like it was a throne, “Oh man, you should have seen the look on your grandfather’s face when my grandmama dropped the bomb on him over tea–PRICELESS!”
“…did you get pictures of it?”
He howled, nearly doubling over in laughter at that, “Nah but Willie sure as hell does. I’ll have her send them to you later if you want?”
Her lips curled into a smirk, “Grazie.”
Still hovering by the doorway, Anton surreptitiously cleared his throat, making him raise his eyebrows at her in silent question. His answer was only a brief roll of her eyes, making him grin, “So… aren’t you going to introduce me to your latest shadow, Cass?”
From what he remember, the last one fell victim to food poisoning in Celestial Palace, after all. The poor thing… he wonders how long this one will last.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Cassandra suddenly says, not quite removing the faint traces of that pleased smirk from her face when she finally turns slightly to address her guard, “Anton, this is Prince Damian of Celestine, second in line to the throne of the United Nations of Albion–he was a childhood friend of mine and my brother.”
Anton hurriedly inclined his head into a proper bow, “Pleased to meet you, your highness. I apologize for earlier.”
Damian waved a gracious hand in Anton’s direction, his smirk shifting into his usual charming grin that the media loved to shoot pictures of, “It’s fine. It was just a misunderstanding, after all… say, can you leave the two of us for a few minutes? I wanted to catch up with my ex-fiancé for a moment. We haven’t seen each other for so long and I just missed her so much.”
Sadly, the man (like any other from the Lunamor patriarch’s employees) is far too professional to appear visibly confused or even uncomfortable at such a questionable statement. Or as Damian liked to say: killjoy.
“I am afraid I cannot do that, sir. My orders are not to let the signorina out from my sight at all times,” he intones, quite solemnly.
“Oh? Why is that?”
“Security reasons, I’m sure you understand.”
“Wait, so now you can’t have some privacy, not even with little ole me?” Damian asks, laughing a bit too loudly as he directs all of his attention to Cassandra with a well-veiled sneer, “No wonder you decided to cheat on me… with a commoner–no less! The pressure must have gotten to you really bad, huh?”
His only response was a challenging stare.
“Well, are you having fun with your little teenage rebellion so far?” he goaded, his lips curling into a grin that was all teeth.
Anton made a strange noise.
The poor man sounds like he’s choking on his spit while Cassandra hardly blinks at that. “Lasciaci.” Leave us.
As Anton begrudgingly closes the door behind her (no doubt not wanting to get involved with what seemed to be a major drama), Cassandra’s lips curled into an amused smirk, her eyes gleaming a dazzling silver for a split second amidst the glaringly bright, artificial lights in her office. Her gaze practically reads, well, what do you think?
At hearing the footsteps finally fading away, Damian smiles after a moment, smart save, “Quite a little bit of late with the rebellion phase going on, don’t you think?”
“Better late than never, or as they say,” she scoffs, moving to sit down on her desk as she tore open the bags one by one to inspect the cupcakes, as if to judge if they were to her liking–because yeah, she’s picky like that.
And as she did so, Damian’s smile fades as he looks over at the AST’s coat she still has on. “So… is it true?”
“Yes.”
There was no need for clarification about that.
He heaves out a grand sigh. Knowing her, she probably woke up and chose violence when she thought of this idea. “Thank you.”
“You and I wouldn’t have worked out, anyway,” she muttered as she bit into one creamy cupcake, somehow not falling victim to the messiness of the frosted whipped cream, much to Damian’s annoyance. Damn Lunamors and their natural affinity to perfection, “…and I refuse to be stuck on a loveless marriage.”
…Like her parents.
Damian was aware. And he was scared. Hell, even Colorado was dreading the day their families would look at him and Cassandra and think that, hey, since the kids get along, why not get them married? Win-win!
He had wanted an out ever since.
While Damian has nothing against Cassandra–don’t get him wrong, he actually finds the principessa kind of pretty, in an unattainable, fairytale princess sort of way, not to mention, she was actually fun to trade barbs with–he just couldn’t quite see the two of them being anything more than just friends. He’s happy with what they have. With what they are right now.
The girl’s literally his best friend’s little sister too… and by that extension, the baby sister he never get to have, someone he had played and practically grown up with.
It’s so weird and so wrong to think of her as his wife.
But what Cassandra just did...
This.
This was something he wanted as a teenager and something he very nearly thought impossible as an adult.
And while Damian knows that he should be grateful, that he should be happy his friend was the one taking the initiative to shoot down their engagement, something that was very clearly going to end up in tears and broken friendships, he still couldn’t quite calm down… especially with such an–ahem–unorthodox approach Cassandra had chosen to tackle in order to fix their issue.
For sure, she had made enemies with such a bold move. Cassandra might as well have place herself in the line of fire.
And forget about Cassie punching him, Colorado’s going to punch him once he finds out Damian was letting his sister go ape shit. With that, he pointedly lowered his voice just in case her bodyguard’s still lingering by the door–wouldn’t be the first time, “But a fake boyfriend’s alright with you? Cassandra, this is bullshit. Are you sure about this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked, her tone as dry as a biscuit.
“Enlighten me.”
“…I like this person,” Cassandra says at last, the gravity of her words completely at odds with how she just delivered them.
“And…?”
She only stared at him.
“I see.” Damian deigns to say when his mind finally caught up with him in a way that he most certainly did not see just what the actual hell she’s talking about, “Well… that explains everything," and somehow nothing at the same time. “And what does your fratello have to say about this?”
Cassandra continued to eat her cupcake in silence, still staring at him dead in the eye as she did so.
Defeated, he shakes his head at her.
Oh, well.
At least when (not if) Colorado finds out, Damian can honestly say, in his defense, that hey, at least he tried. And, well… it wasn’t really his idea to go crazy this time around. But to be honest, he had to hand it to Cass, she seriously went up a mile and beyond for someone she likes. Now, that’s dedication…
He wonders what they were like…
“Why are you really here, prince charming?” she finally asks… once she’s done eating, “And don’t tell me it’s to celebrate… this, whatever we are–or I will punch you.”
“Wait. S-Seriously? I just brought you a whole bag of–” when Cassandra unceremoniously crumpled the foil packaging rather easily, he began to sweat and fidget with his cuff links, “I just thought it would be nice to celebrate as I remembered how hard you’ve been working here. It’s your first time living abroad on your own, after all…”
One of her hands clenched into a fist.
At that, he began speaking quickly in a mild panic. “I miss you and I haven’t been able to see you much since our grandparents gave us our wedding date and Ithoughtyouhatedme–”
Other than her furrowing eyebrows, her expression still didn’t change, and Damian began to stumble over the rest of his words like a broken vinyl. He only paused from his word-vomiting when he saw, when his brain finally processed the faint dusting of pink running across her face as she glared at him.
The way her gaze drilled against his would have made for an intimidating picture, but the blush was quite too prominent against such pale skin.
“…thank you.”
Damian swears he just about died as his heart melted to mush. Oh, Cassie is just so cute sometimes! He beams brightly at her, not bothering to resist the tempting urge to pinch both of her cheeks the same way he’d always do when they were little children, “Aw, sei la benvenuta, mia principessa!”