"I don't like you spending time with Femio, Ahiru!"

"But-"

"You shouldn't be talking to him, much less ACCEPTING ROSES FROM HIM AND LETTING HIM OPENLY FLIRT WITH YOU LIKE THAT!"

"SINCE WHEN DO YOU CARE THAT SOMEONE MIGHT ACTUALLY LIKE ME, FAKIR!?"

People at the academy were used to Fakir and Ahiru's frequent spats, which were often referred to, out of their earshot, as "lovers' quarrels", a rumor that was only encouraged when Autor burst into loud laughter the first time he heard it. But the point is, no one thought anything of it when Ahiru and Fakir were "at it again" that day. No one, not even Pike, Lilie, or Autor, knew how affected the two were by this particular argument.

"Ahiru, I know that you're angry with me, and I know I had no right to say those things. Ugh! What am I doing?" Fakir addressed nothing but the window in his room, and he took a moment to stare across the Academy towards Ahiru's window, wondering if she would ever forgive him, and what she was doing now.

Ahiru was crying. "Why did I have to say that?" she whispered to herself. "It was stupid. I mean, even if he doesn't like me the way I like him, he said he'd always be by my side. Of course he cares! Just because I wish he would say he loved me instead of always putting me down, didn't give me any excuse to say that to him."

Ahiru was sitting on her bed, her head pressed to her knees, and she looked out the window, tears in her eyes, wondering if Fakir would ever speak to her again, after she had said something so horrible, until she realized what she had to do, and stood, opening the door to her room and slipping out of the dorm as quietly as a ghost, and looking like one in the moonlight as she ran.

Fakir knew what he had to do. He knew he'd never sleep anyway, and he needed to see her again. Even if she didn't forgive him, he had to see her again, so he slipped out of the dorm as quietly as was possible, his black pants and navy shirt blending perfectly into the shadows, and then he ran.

The first sight he caught of her was of a whisp of white flowing around as if in a great wind, getting steadily closer. As he kept running, he realized it was her. Her long white nightgown blended with her pale skin to create the image of an angel, glowing with moonlight, in his eyes.

It took Ahiru a little longer to see Fakir, covered by shadows, but she smiled when she did, and they only ran faster, her bare feet slapping on the stones, sounding like the slap of rain on those same stones, or the gentle trickling of the fountain at which they met, Fakir lifting Ahiru up in the air, his arms supporting her waist, with her hands on his shoulders, her feet arching into a ballet pose as Fakir spun her around before pulling her close, their bodies crashing together with the force Fakir used to bind her to him.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking straight into her eyes, their faces mere inches apart, "I shouldn't have said all those things, you-"

"No, I'm sorry, Fakir. I shouldn't have said you didn't care. I know you care. I just wished… nevermind." Ahiru felt a blush rise on her face as she barely stopped herself from saying, I wish you cared as much as I care about you.

"What?" he persisted, noticing her blush, and smiled a little sadly, "You wished that I would just leave you alone?"

She started. "No! That's not it at all! I… I just wished you…Well I had hoped that maybe you… You c-could care a little… differently…" Ahiru trailed off dumbly, her blush deepening as she looked away, into the shadows, though still held in place by Fakir's strong arms wrapped around her.

Fakir watched as she avoided his gaze, before he finally removed one of his hands from her waist, and turned her chin back, so she faced him again, and was forced to meet his eyes. "Like this?" he asked, and before he could think better of it, he leaned down to kiss her, meeting only surprise for a moment, as he felt Ahiru tense in his arms, but after she realized what was happening, she sort of melted into him, her arms wrapping more tightly around his neck as she applied her own ecstatic pressure to the kiss. Fakir smiled against her lips before pulling back, earning him a confused and terrified glance from Ahiru.

"Well? Like that?" he asked, and she nodded a little, her eyes wide pools of water, speckled with stars.

Fakir picked her up again, maneuvering her in one swift movement so he carried her like the princess she was, the light, almost sheer fabric of her nightgown draped across his arms. "Why do you think I cared so much, moron?" Fakir asked her, the tenderness in his voice spoiling the effect they might have had otherwise on the duck-girl.

"I was jealous," he explained, "Jealous that that over-dramatic creep might draw your attention in a way I didn't think I could."

Then she smiled again, and pulled his head down so she could kiss him.

When they broke apart, Ahiru realized that Fakir was walking somewhere, namely, in the direction of the boys' dormitory. "What are you doing?" Ahiru whispered, as Fakir kicked the door to the dormitories open a little more and slipped inside.

"Not letting you go," he said.


Also on:

Deviantart: /art/Of-Words-and-Movement-92034480?q=gallery%3AShirekat%2F5237727&qo=283

AO3: /works/5890507/chapters/13576753