The first morning Fakir came to school with Ahiru, she left him with a happy farewell.

Autor waited by the entrance to the literature building for Fakir to arrive that morning. The green-eyed writer approached with his usual frown, but, this time, with a short, bubbly girl with bright red hair bouncing behind him.

Before she headed off to the ballet building, she waved enthusiastically, hopping up and down.

"Have a good day, Fakir!"

He only replied with a stiff nod and a half-hearted wave before turning towards Autor.

And Autor had to sigh, because Fakir completely missed the longing, yearning gaze that Ahiru threw at his back before she scampered off to her own class.


The next morning, their parting left Fakir thoroughly irritated (and embarrassed) throughout the rest of the day, much to Autor's amusement.

Again, he waited by the entrance to the literature building for Fakir to arrive. This time, before the stoic boy and the clumsy girl parted ways, she literally reached up, grabbed his head in her hands and yanked him down, planting a kiss on his cheek with a loud "Mmmuah~!"

"U-Ugh! Ahiru, what the-?!"

As he jerked away from her and violently rubbed the spot on his skin, she laughed fully and heartily, running off before he could murder her.

"Have a good day, Fakir!"

He only replied with a grumble and, "M-Moron!"

And Autor had to sigh, because as angry as Fakir looked, his face still glowed brightly, and all day, he continued to violently rub (caress) the spot where her lips met his skin.


The next morning, Autor found himself rolling his eyes.

As always, he was in front of the literature building, waiting for Fakir to arrive. As he approached, Ahiru skipped next to him, giving him a small smile. He wasn't smiling back, of course, but Autor couldn't help but notice the softness in his own gaze.

She rose to her tip-toes, hands clasped behind her back, and placed a quiet, small kiss on his cheek, this one lasting no longer than a second. She pulled back almost shyly.

"Have a good day, Fakir!"

He only replied with a nod, a small blush dusting his cheeks as he watched her skip happily to the ballet building.

And Autor had to sigh, because he honestly did not want to know what happened the day before to make them act like this.


A few mornings later, the event caused Fakir to be distracted and brooding throughout the day, evidenced by the angry, frustrated way he held his quill in class.

As Autor waited by the entrance to the literature building, his eyebrows shot up at the sight of a scowling, grumbling Fakir with a stomping Ahiru at his tail. She glared into his back, and he refused to meet her gaze, as if she didn't exist.

They bickered, Ahiru's eyes blazing and Fakir's eyes frigid.

"Have a lousy day, you jerk!"




She whirled around, smirking when her braid slapped against Fakir's face, and stomping off to her class.

He only replied with a snarl, glaring at Autor. "What the hell are you looking at?!"

And Autor had to sigh, because the two of them spent the day looking more miserable than words could describe.


The next morning, Fakir and Ahiru didn't even arrive together as per usual, much to Autor's surprise, and slight concern.

Fakir arrived with nothing but a glare on his face. "What?" he snarled at Autor. And the bespectacled pianist shut his mouth.

Sometime in the afternoon, Fakir and Autor passed the ballet building, spotting Ahiru with her two friends. The green-eyed writer immediately glanced away with a sneer, and Ahiru pointedly ignored his presence with her nose in the air.

She didn't wish him a good day.

He didn't reply.

And Autor had to sigh, because as miserable as Fakir seemed the day before, he was absolutely broken now.


The next morning, Fakir showed up with a fierce determination in his eyes that startled Autor.

Before Autor could lead them inside the literature building, Fakir stopped. "Wait," he commanded firmly, leaving no room for argument. Soon enough, Autor realized just what they were waiting for as Ahiru trudged heavily toward the ballet building nearby.

Immediately, Fakir strode up to her, grasping her arm and staring intensely into her eyes. He leaned down, kissing her on the cheek, before pulling back.

"Have a good day, Ahiru."

She only replied with a deep blush and a small nod. "Mm…you, too…"

And Autor had to sigh, because later, he caught Ahiru at the candy store buying Fakir's favorite chocolates, and Fakir in the flower shop holding a bouquet of bright yellow daffodils.


The next morning, Autor had to polish his glasses when the pair arrived holding hands.

Their fingers were entwined between them, with Ahiru grinning like an idiot beside the furiously blushing writer. They stopped in front of the literature building where Autor waited for Fakir's arrival. She leaned up to place a small kiss on Fakir's cheek, but stumbled, and her lips landed dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

She lurched herself away from him, and he stared at her in wonder.

"A-Ah…H-Have a good day, Fakir…"

He only replied by blushing slightly and nodding dumbly. "Uh…yeah."

And Autor had to sigh, because when he asked if Fakir was alright, his friend could only blink stupidly, mumbling, "…Huh?"


The next morning was one that would be the same for all of the mornings after.

Autor would roll his eyes as Fakir and Ahiru approached. And he would turn to her, bringing her right into his arms, clutching her tightly, burying his face into her hair. She, in turn, would wrap her arms around his neck, face pressed against his neck.

"Have a good day…" she'd whisper.

He only replied with a kiss on her lips.

They held one another as if it was the last time they'd see each other.

And Autor had to sigh, because they always saw each other again at lunch.