Title: System Failure
Theme: 82# Can You Hear Me?
Characters: Fakir, Ahiru
Rating: PG -13ish, because I can't type Fakir's thoughts in PG standards. Yah
Number of words: 1,790
Disclaimer: Princess Tutu does not belong to me, obviously. It belongs to someone else. Someone not me. Yeah.
Summary: Ahiru asks the dreaded question; Fakir's brain breaks.
Notes: My mind is odd? And I like it when character's brains go on 'Stand By' mode.

"So, uhm... do you like me?"

The words were blown out in the open rather randomly, mostly out of the blue, causing the boy's quill to skid across the paper, leaving a long zig zag behind. Blinking owlishly, he stared at the mark on the paper, and then, noting it was still there despite the obvious effort he was putting into trying to make it vanish via willpower alone, he glared at it. The mark refused to evaporate though and stared right back instead, as if mocking him.

"Can you hear me?"

Of course he could; that was the problem. Not only could he hear her, but his mind had registered every single word she'd uttered. He was currently trying to process it all into making logical sense, "Uhhh..." despite his best efforts, however, Fakir could not seem to understand the girl's train of thought. Opting for tearing his gaze off from the essay he'd managed to scribble all over, he turned to look at his companion; she sat beside him, holding her own quill in her hand, the point tapping her piece of paper, "I beg your pardon?" normally, he wouldn't have used such an expression when talking to Ahiru, but 'SYSTEM FAILURE' was currently flashing in big, red letters across the blank canvas of his mind, over and over again. Needless to say his brain had ceased all function in a clear attempt to understand the current situation, leading to an overdrive.

The girl let out a sigh, as if exasperated, then lifted her quill and frowned petulantly up at him, using the feather to poke his face. The action merely caused him to blink owlishly yet again, "I said; do you even like me?" despite the fact she'd repeated the question, the boy seemed to still be unable to process it's meaning, for he opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again, only to close it once more as the words simple refused to leave his throat.

"Huh?" was the only, unintelligent word that managed to escape whatever prison had gobbled up his (usually) large vocabulary.

"Ugh!" allowing her head to drop on the table, her forehead hitting it's surface, Ahiru tried again, this time, her own voice slightly muffled by the new position she found herself in, "I'm asking you if you even like me!" knowing she was going to get the same answer from the ex-knight (call it instinct, or perhaps a sixth sense), she elaborated further this time, "I mean, you're always calling me an idiot, and you're always putting on this front, and you glare at me all the time!" a pause before she continued, slowly raising her head to look at him, almost pouting childishly, "But then, when I'm in trouble you save me! And you help me; like now! You're helping me with my homework yet I never know what's going on in your mind!" she frowned for a moment, "I want to know if you merely tolerate me, or actually like me!"

Thankfully, by the end of the girl's tirade, Fakir's brain had managed to pull out of second gear and was able to finally grasp further more than the word 'like', allowing him to progress and make actual sense of what she was trying to say. A couple of blinks were offered before he closed his eyes, lifted his free hand, and coughed into it; despite his outwardly calm appearance, his mind was still mildly on overdrive. Inside, he laughed hysterically, because the girl was not quite asking him what he'd originally thought she was asking; she merely wanted to know if he liked her as a friend. Refraining from bursting out in peals of laughter (lest he somehow scare her into running for the metaphorical hills), Fakir let out a grunt. Was she really that innocent? Was she really that naive, that she hadn't noticed? Or was he really that much of an asshole to her that she was questioning him?

Still, Ahiru was watching him, her brows creased into a frown (something she had, no doubt, picked up from him, he figured), demanding an answer silently. He opened his mouth, watched her arch a brow slightly, and then closed it again, refraining the need to imitate her earlier stunt and bash his head on the table himself, repeatedly if possible. Managing to just barely repress the need, the ex-knight turned to look away from her form, "I do like you," it was mumbled, his gaze fixed on the opposite side of the room, for had he looked at her, even someone as naturally dense as Ahiru, would have known just to what extent he liked her. Sadly... he wasn't quite ready to tell her that yet. As far as he was concerned, she really WOULD have ran for the hills if she'd known; the mental image his brain provided of the scene was extremely detailed, going as far as painting the setting sun behind the girl's running figure, "Sort of."

The girl in question seemed torn at the words, as if satisfied by what she heard, yet not entirely so, for some reason beyond him, "Okay then," she said finally, having opted for feeling satisfied. She nodded to herself and turned back to her mostly blank piece of paper. The hand that held her quill drifted over it as she attempted her essay once more, "I can live with that."

Calm and silence fell over the two teenagers once more as they worked away, and Fakir silently thanked the Gods that the crisis had been more or less adverted for the time being, because for all his bravery and courage when he was facing an enemy, he simply wasn't able to take the first step when it came to a certain red haired girl. Letting out a sigh, he got a new piece of paper and rewrote what he'd originally been writing on the page he'd ruined when his brain had gone into 'Stand By' mode. Randomly, he found himself cursing himself silently, mostly out of habit, before settling himself down into the comfortable silence.

It was a whole hour later when Ahiru finally let out a small sound of triumph, lifting her page into the air, as if to admire it, "I'm done!" of course, she obviously felt the need to let the whole wide world know this, and Fakir, whom had torn his gaze from his own page to watch her, marveled at how easily the girl could amuse herself, or launch herself into a state of almost sheer ecstasy just by accomplishing such a simple task, "I'm done! I'm done!" she stood from where she'd been seated and actually twirled once in the middle of the room, holding the piece of paper up high. Then, suddenly, she paused and looked at him, her smile vanishing, her eyes blinking, almost as if she were suddenly pondering something... thinking something deeply through.

Fakir, for some odd reason, felt himself stiffen, his eyes turning to look for possible escape routes; later on he'd, no doubt, try to comprehend how a duck (or duck-turned-girl, whatever), could manage to make him feel the need to run away.

"Here. Would you mind proof reading it for me? You're better at writing anyhow, please?" she approached him and handed the piece of paper before smiling again, "Meanwhile, I'm going to fetch a snack," and this said, the girl walked out of the room, leaving the ex-knight with more workload than he truthfully desired. However, seeing as how he knew deep down that he'd never truly be able to say no to her when she looked at him with those eyes, he let out a sigh and began to read over the essay.

"I'm supposed to write an essay on what I think love is. I don't think I can answer this question; I don't think I know what 'love' is. But since it's part of the term grade, I guess I'll just try my best. Long ago, if someone were to have asked me what love was, I'd have instantly answered that love was a gentle eyed thing; a soft, sweet feeling. Something to keep safe from the outside world. Something delicate; like a newborn fawn."

Fakir stopped reading and considered tossing the papers out the window, for the words were like a physical slap. He knew what she was describing, or rather, whom, and still, even after so long, it stung. Regardless, the boy kept on reading, managing to channel his irritation into simply gritting his teeth.

"Now, however, I think I was slightly mistaken. I no longer think that. I guess I still don't know what love is, but... if I were to describe it, it'd probably be a stronger feeling; passionate enough to make me want to toss a ball at someone's head in irritation. Strong enough to make me want to scream into a pillow out of sheer frustration. I think love is screaming, and shouting, and caring, and being willing to sacrifice, and whole lot of other things. I think love is something one can never understand; I think love is always staying by the one you care most for, no mater how many times said person makes us want to scream in frustration.

No matter how grumpy said person is, and no matter how irritable. No matter how difficult to read, or understand.

I think love is saving someone from loneliness."

Strangely enough, after finishing the piece, Fakir no longer felt like burning it into tiny little pieces. Instead, he stared at the paper, regarding the way the ink smudged here and there, where she'd rested the quill on it for too long. He noticed the way the lines were squiggled all around, and the small splodges of ink. By the time Ahiru returned to the room, the ex-knight was bashing his head softly on the wooden table, time and time again, trying to decide just whom was the idiot, him or her.