"Autor!" called Fakir, coming into the library. He was greeted by nothing but silence. Fakir frowned. It wasn't like Autor to be late, especially when he said he had something important to talk about.
But just then, Fakir heard a familiar giggle. Ahiru. He jerked his head towards the sound, unable to stop his heartbeat from speeding a little, just as it always did when Ahiru was anywhere around. But he saw nothing. Nothing but her shadow, curiously entwined with another. "Shh, Ahiru!" hissed an equally familiar voice. Autor. What was going on? Fakir had never heard a smile so clearly in his friend's voice.
He crept closer.
"Fakir will be here any minute…" whispered Autor, and Fakir caught the movement in the shadows he saw from behind the bookcase. Autor was holding Ahiru, and he could hear her giggle again as Autor leaned down to kiss her.
Fakir felt the blood drain from his face, and before he could stop himself, Fakir found himself on the other side of the bookcase.
"What's going on?!" he yelled, only to feel a blush rising to his cheeks. Ahiru was staring wide-eyed at Fakir. One of Autor's hands was at Ahiru's waist, and she batted it away as though he had been tickling her. Autor's other hand held a little silhouetted cardboard copy of them, in each other's arms, which he was holding up to the light, so it would cast a shadow on the wall, the same shadow that Fakir had seen. It was skillfully crafted.
"I told you, Ahiru," Autor said, setting down the cardboard and smirking maliciously.
"What's going on?" Fakir asked again, much more softly this time, though no calmer for it.
Autor chuckled. "Oh, I was just telling little Ahiru here that you were in love with her, just too proud to admit it. Since I was tired of you sighing and staring out the window all the time, I decided to tell her for you. She didn't believe me. Actually, she almost started crying when I mentioned it," Autor explained, bringing a blush to Ahiru's face, mirroring Fakir's. "Anyway, I convinced her to come…" He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Alright, I dragged her, here to let me prove it, which I believe I just did."
He was looking back and forth at the two, his smirk still in place. Ahiru was looking down at the floor with surprisingly intense interest, and Fakir was glaring straight at Autor.
"You did that just to get me mad?" Fakir asked, his voice deceptively even.
"Of course," said Autor, unconcerned. A few moments, and one loud thump later he was on the floor, unconscious, his nose bleeding
"Fakir!" Ahiru cried, looking in horror at the still form of Autor lying on the floor. She opened her mouth to say something else, but a moment later found her lips captured by Fakir's, and her body pinned to his by his arms, which had wrapped around her.
"He deserved it," Fakir said when they separated, cocking his head at Autor, but still looking at Ahiru, who was looking back at him with wide eyes, though her eyes darted for a moment to Autor, the look in her eyes saying, You did that for me.
"Not anywhere near what I would have done to him had his little 'charade' been real," Fakir assured her.
"He was right," said Ahiru, a smile taking her face in proportion to her blush, "After all that he was ri-"
"Yes," Fakir silenced her by placing a finger on her lips. "I love you," he said.
Ahiru blushed even more, and grinned even wider, if either were possible.