He's eleven, still shorter than Mytho. Not for long, he thinks, but for now Mytho still has two inches on him, but Fakir refuses to think too much about that, thinking that it's just for now. Soon he'll be taller, stronger, and he'll be the knight Mytho needs.
But at the moment he sends Mytho's fans away with a sneer, closes the blinds of the classroom and he puts on toe shoes, because Mytho does have to practice but he doesn't trust any of those stupid girls to not try anything weird with Mytho. This won't last, he knows, and he'll have to think of something else, but for now it does.
So there's no music, but Fakir counts and on three he's on his toes and Mytho is holding him, helping him. He knows the steps the danseuse would do and he follows them carefully, not thinking of how this would look. Mytho thinks nothing of this even though he likes dancing (as much as he likes anything anyway) and Fakir tells himself they need to do this. They have to get away from Gold Crown, and this is the only way he knows how to do so.
So he bends low, Mytho's hands on his waist, and then his hands take his as he helps him up. They are suddenly too close as he bends his back and Mytho's arm keeps around his waist to help him up, but Mytho seems too close, too familiar, and Fakir does have a heart, a treacherous heart that thumps too loudly when Mytho is so close, even though he means nothing to Mytho.
He messes up: he tenses, losing his balance, and he makes them both fall.
"Stupid," he says, mostly to himself.
"I'm sorry, Fakir" Mytho says, toneless, simply because he has called him that a number of times and by now he knows what to answer, even if he's not sorry because he can't feel sorry.
Fakir glares, looks away, doesn't bother telling him it wasn't him he was calling 'stupid'. He just stands up and tells Mytho they're doing it again.