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Mytho managed to drag Fakir to one of Rue’s parties.
It hadn’t even been a few minutes into the night before he began to question what Mytho could have possibly said or done to convince him to attend. What was even more ridiculous was that he agreed to let Mytho be his ride home, and now he couldn’t escape.
”I seriously can’t believe I’m here.”
”Oh, c’mon Fakir,” Mytho rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder, “At least try to have fun! You should meet some of Rue’s friends.”
Fakir shot the man a scowl, “You only want me to meet her friends so It’s not awkward at the wedding.”
Mytho pouted, “I can’t have my best man be so cold towards the bridesmaids…”
Not even attempting to mask himself as he rolled his eyes, Fakir went to saunter on into the living room, planning to steal a corner of the couch and spend the rest of the night on his phone doing god knows what.
Instead of encountering what he thought would be a vacant space, Fakir found that there was someone already occupying most of the couch by the sight of a head poking up from over the back.
The person began to speak, standing and turning to face the entering footsteps, “Rue? I think—“
The girl froze when she saw the sight of a man before her, instead if what she expected to be Rue. In unison, an “Oh…” was muttered between them.
”You’re not Rue,” the girl flushed a bright red.
”I’m not,” he chuckled, “I’m Fakir.”
She gave him a nod, “I’m Ahiru.”
With an outstretched hand, he invited her to a handshake. “I believe we’ve met before.”
Accepting his invitation, Ahiru grinned. “I believe we have!”
After seven times meeting, their days of wondering ended.