To Be, Or Not To Be|| SPY X FAMILY

Damian||Patches

In my family, there were a few things to be kept in mind, if these rules were ever broken, I'd be disowned. Yes, I'm being very frank about it. One of those rules was to maintain a good image in public, and I, Damian Desmond, have officially broken that rule.

"Mr.Desmond, what is this?!" My publicist barked at me, shoving the magazine to my face. On the front page, the headline was pretty clear: Damian Desmond punches Local Journalist in the Central Square. "He was pissing me off..." I muttered angrily. He sighed in frustration and took the seat opposite to mine. We're in my very depressing looking study. The design was chosen by my father, as was every decision ever made.

"Damian, you don't go ahead and punch a journalist just because he was pissing you off... for God's sake, you have to take care of public opinion-"

"I know, okay?!" I let out an exasperated sigh. As much as I appreciate his concerns, his nagging was too much for my splitting headache.

"If your father hears about this-"

"He won't, I've told Killian to take care of it."

"Your butler?" He scoffed, supporting his face with his hand.

"My assistant would be a better way to put things, but yes." I nodded.

The second thing a Desmond must keep in mind is to always be one step ahead of everything. "Killian's already told the authorities to remove those issues before it spreads around, happy?"

He shot me a glare and then his expression softened as he lets out another sigh.

"I just... don't want a repeat of... last time... you know?" he said gravely,

"Right..." I nod.

Last time was way worse though, I punched a news reporter, he punched me back, it was an entire fist fight that was broadcasted on international television. In my defence, he was touching a girl inappropriately. That was wrong of him to do. I don't let these assholes go away easily. Of course no one would hear of it and I was put on probation for six months before I could go out again. (I missed five weddings and six baby showers on the bright side.)

"So, since this matter is resolved, you can leave." I said, motioning him to go out the door. "Oh no, we're not done here-" he started off, I let out another exasperated sigh. "What?" I groaned. He sits down more comfortably and has a more sombre look on his face, "Damian... lately... you've been getting more... and more aggressive, you know I'm your friend more importantly, and you can share anything-"

"I'm fine. Are we done here?" I said in a more stoic tone. As if you'd want to listen to my problems. Having a publicist all to myself didn't make me any more important, I could be as perfect as I wanted, and still be ignored. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

"Killian, what can I do to make people forget about the incident?" I inquired. Killian looked up from the documents, "Oh, I wasn't expecting that... well, there is this auction that's being held for painting-"

"I was hoping you'd recommend something more charitable..." I frowned, his lips curved into a smile, "It's a charitable auction, Mister Desmond, the highest bidder gets the painting and your money goes to help children in orphanages."

"..."

My eyes widen in excitement, "Brilliant, God dammit, I'm glad you exist Killian."

"Thank you Mister Desmond-"

"Gosh, I told you to call me Damian, were of the same age-"

"Yes, Damian."

Preferably, I liked when people address me by my first name. It wasn't always like this, but now it is. I want people to know that I believe the individual is more important than the last name.

"Is there anything else scheduled for today?" I asked him. He glanced at his board, "Well... you have high tea with your mother-"

"I'm not going. I thought I told you." I said quickly interrupting him.

"You did," he nodded and then added "but then you also changed your mind-"

"Is it too late to change my mind again?" I said, somewhat annoyed.

"I believe so sir, you can't always avoid your mother."

It wasn't always like this either. Now and then, I missed it when I was a child and I felt that my mother was there, actually there, now I don't feel it often. Ever since that day, in the back of my mind, I'd often have that memory replaying over and over again in my head. Those words on repeat: "You're not my child. You're just a clone."

Sometimes, I used to think that as a Desmond, I'd got it all figured out. The moment I'd think I did, I'd remember that my mother pushed me away, my father pushed me towards the brink of collapsing and my brother just reminded me that I am a spare.

Nonetheless, I was still a part of this family. Hence, I had to do everything to keep it like that.

"Will my brother be there?" I asked Killian,

"Oh no sir, she only invited you."

"None of her sophisticated friends?"

"None."

"..."

"...Fine..." I mumbled, still somewhat hesitant. Killian gave me a smile that said well-done-you-should-go. As much as I appreciated his support, the thing I dreaded the most is to 'patch things up' with my mother.

You patch fabric up, you can't patch relationships. Even so, when you patch fabric, it always leaves the patches very much visible, the stitches that are woven are very much visible, when you patch things up, the situation is still messy, because the fabric was torn anyway, fixing it doesn't make it very appealing any longer.