Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Having butterflies in your stomach, a fluttering heart, or being “struck” by Cupid’s arrow, were all feelings Fakir found to be unfamiliar. Emotions, he believed, didn’t exist.

He still doesn’t.

Yet, he found himself drawn to weekly visits to the aviary, which was itself an occurrence caused by unfamiliar reasons. It was a habit of Fakir’s to immediately identify and label unfamiliar circumstances, but in this particular instance, his mind didn’t allow for such contemplation until someone else had brought it up.

March 16

Fakir had gone to see Mytho in his office for a chat, which was his first mistake. He had made an even bigger mistake when failing to bolt out of the door upon seeing  Rue sitting on one of the guest chairs.

Mytho turned his attention to Fakir, who was now internally regretting his decision to spend his lunch break here. “Good evening, Fakir! I was surprised to see you not turn up to visit me during yesterday’s lunch.”

”Ah, right,” Fakir reluctantly settled into one of the guest chairs, “I had gone to the Aviary.”

Mytho raised a brow at his friend as he unpacked his soup container, “Again? I appreciate that you seem to be doing a real deep-dive on the place for the article, but it really isn’t mandatory. Just a short excerpt would do, really…”

When not writing his novels, Fakir worked part-time as a journalist for the local newspaper. As a favor to Mytho and his dad’s company, he decided he would write up a story on their newly renovated bird sanctuary. The project, however, had been in development for two months now, and Mytho was starting to become confused as to what was taking so long.

“I’ve found the subject to be much more interesting than expected, and would like to do it justice.”

Mytho gave his friend a concerned smile, “I understand, and again, I really appreciate it—but, don’t these things usually take a week at most?”

Fakir fumbled for a response, “Well-“

”It's pretty obvious why he’s been prolonging his article,” Rue interrupted nonchalantly whilst inspecting her nails, “He’s got a crush.”

Rue turned her focus away from her glossy nails to instead watch Fakir’s face as it twisted into a small scowl. She smirked at his annoyance.

”Crush?” Mytho raised his voice in delightful curiosity.

”She’s just making stuff up.” Fakir crossed his arms and leaned back in the small leather chair, trying to appear as aloof as possible. Internally, however, Fakir was at a loss. How would Rue know anything about his visits to the aviary?

Knowing he wouldn’t get anything out of Fakir, Mytho turned to Rue, “Who is it!?”

“Probably one of the girls who work there, I remember seeing an especially cute one back when i went to go peak at the place,” she giggled, “It’s a reasonable enough explanation, no?”

Fakir softly sighed in relief. She was bluffing, after all.

“I knew it couldn’t be true,” Mytho collapsed back into his seat, “Fakir’s not one for that type of stuff.”

Fakir silently shook his head in agreement. It was a ridiculous tease.

Did he have a crush on her?

The previous interaction had left Fakir sprawled out on top of his bed at 2 a.m., both contemplating the subject and contradicting his earlier actions.

So, did he?

No. He couldn’t bare the term “crush,” it was too childish for his standards. An infatuation? No. He refused to boil it down to such short-term superficiality. 

Fakir decided to simply label it as an “interest.”

She was, in fact, notably interesting. Interesting in a way that Fakir had never met anyone quite as foolish, clumsy, and naïve. Yet, she had her own sense of wit, which made her traits always circle back into being uniquely charming.

And, perhaps, part of him knew that he would lose his excuse to continually visit her once that article was finished and that might be why it was taking so long…but he would never admit that.

Chapter Text

January 3

Fakir had packed with him no more than a small backpack containing his notebook and wallet.

“Shouldn’t you just take your laptop instead?” Questioned Autor, a fellow journalist who shared a work space with Fakir.

“It’s harder to carry, and the heat would eat it’s battery up too quickly,” Fakir shrugged, “It really doesn’t matter, I can probably write up a short little article within an hour and call it a day. I’m not sure how much content I can squeeze out of a renovated sanctuary, anyway.”

Autor’s interest in the subject quickly faded, “I suppose I’ll see you in an hour, then.” He returned to sipping his coffee and focusing on his work.

Fakir found no energy left within him to bid Autor farewell, so he simply left the office in order to get his story over with. After all, he had owed Mytho a favor, and found it wise to try and get it done as fast as possible.

——

The sanctuary was larger than Fakir had expected, and he prayed to himself that it would still only take up an hour of his day to get through it. There was a quaint, little office room for receiving visitors that appeared to be vacant upon entering. However, only a few moments later he heard grunting coming from one of the few doors in the corridor behind the desk. A short girl with a salmon-red braid emerged into the hall, accompanied by a large box she seemed to be pushing around. The box itself was large enough to nearly reach her waist, and whatever was inside must’ve been heavy, because it wasn’t much long after she had moved the box out of the room that she collapsed onto the cardboard surface.

Fakir noticed the girls struggle and found it rather hard to watch, “Do you…need help back there?”

The girl scurried up from her resting position, taken aback from not having noticed the man’s presence previously. She stammered, “A-ah, the sanctuary doesn’t accept visitors on Wednesday, sorry. Also, that isn’t necessary, thank you.”

She attempted to bashfully wave Fakir off, but he relented. “Actually, I’m here as a journalist,” he watched her with judgement, “Should you really be doing this type of work with your stature and broken arm?”

“My…stature!?” The girl fully stood up on her feet to size-him-up, but she really only reached his chest in height, “I admit that it’s a little difficult…but everyone else is at lunch and this needs to get done! And i’m willing!”

“A little too willing…” Fakir muttered to himself. “Look, don’t be foolish and accept some help,” Fakir waved her aside and attempted to lift up the box, only to set it back down a few moments later.

“Wow, ok, that is really heavy,” he whispered out in a huff.

His failed attempt caused a giggle to erupt from the girl, in turn making Fakir shoot her a glare.

“Theres a cart in the storage closet behind you, I just needed to pull this box out first,” the redhead explained between laughs.

“Right…” Fakir went into the storage closet to pull out a little transport cart, and quickly lifted the box to place on top of it. With another huff, he looked at her, “and how exactly did you plan on lifting this thing onto here?”

“I coulda done it!” She pouted, and reluctantly thanked him for the favor. Fakir assumed his position behind the cart, ready to push it at her direction.

“Where did you need to take this stuff?” Fakir watched her face twist with retaliation, but somewhere along coming up with a response, she gave in and decided to let him help.

"I need to take it out to the actual main aviary, which is beside the park's first lake."

"First  lake? how big is this park?" Fakir tried to pull out his notebook as he followed her while pushing along the cart.

She giggled in excitement, "Its quite large! I believe its around 200 acres, and the trail stretches out for about 8 miles.”

Fakir went to quickly jot the information down, and the girl noticed his notebook. “Right, so you’re a journalist, huh? I bet you’ve run into some interesting stories.”

Fakir looked back up at her, “Well, I only do it part-time, so I usually get the smaller excerpts.”

“Only part time?”

He was hesitant to explain, but something about the serenity of the scene that surrounded them outside made him feel more comfortable.

“I write novels but it doesn’t bring in as much income as I would like it to, so I use this job to fill out my funds.”

The girl looked at him with a new softness in her eyes, and it seemed like she was contemplating her own thoughts. “It might not pay the bills, but it’s nice that you’re still pursuing your passion,” she commented almost somberly, “it’s truly admirable to hold on to something like that.”

Fakir also looked at her with new consideration, his lips briefly parting.

Do you have a passion?… Is what he would’ve asked, if she hadn’t broken the short silence first.

“I’m Ahiru, by the way.”

He turned away from his short-lived trance, “Fakir Smith.”

She beamed, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith!”

He fiddled with one of his collar buttons, “You can just call me Fakir…”

“Wow, first name basis,” she joked.

“Well, it’s not like you gave me a last name to call you by either.”

“Fair point,” she smirked as she stopped in her tracks, “Here we are! I’ll get the door for ya.”

Ahiru opened the Aviary’s entrance, letting Fakir and the cart in. He was met with a picturesque inside garden, with birds flying from tree-to-tree over head. It was a truly beautiful building. While he was distracted by the sight, Ahiru quickly pushed the box off of the cart, causing it to make a loud ‘plopping’ sound.

“Hey idiot, be careful,” Fakir scowled, but he was only met with a sheepish smile in response.

“It’s fine! The stuff inside isn’t fragile.”

Fakir grunted, “I wasn’t referring to the stuff inside…what’s in there, anyways?”

Ahiru giggled, “why don’t you come find out?”

He was curious enough to follow the redhead, as she led him to a few shelves lining on of the building’s walls. She retrieved a small knife from a tool boxes, and a whistle that hung from a line of hooks. Ahiru handed Fakir the knife and directed him to open the box, as she took to blowing the whistle. He sliced opened the tape that sealed the package, as he listened to her methodically blow into the whistle three times.

After a few seconds, two birds emerged from one of the trees and flew onto Ahiru’s right arm, which had been covered in a long, sturdy glove. She smiled at the two critters before turning to Fakir.

“Open the box for me please…I’m a little occupied as you can see,” Ahiru gestured both to her broken arm and the small animals that now sat on her forearm.

Fakir nodded, lifting up the flaps to reveal massive bags of birdseed stacked on top of each other. He glanced up at Ahiru who urged him to continue, so he began to cut open one of the bags.

Seeing the new supply, Ahiru let the birds travel down her arm as she placed them upon the rim of the box, and eagerly placed her attention back on Fakir.

“Hold your hands out like this,” Ahiru took Fakir’s hands and continued to direct him.

She proceeded to scoop up some of the seeds and place then in a pile within his hands. Fakir watched with quiet wonder as she picked one of the birds back up with her finger and let it eat from the seed pile that he held.

“I-I don’t really know how to…”

“Shhh…” Ahiru placed a finger over her lips. Fakir continued to watch the little critters feast silently in his palm, gradually warming up to them.

Fakir stifled a giggle from the ticklish sensation, wanting to keep his aloof image intact still. Ahiru let the bird wander onto his palm, and went to pick up the other.

“They like you,” she laughed.

“Do they have names?” He found himself asking.

Ahiru smiled, “Sure do! Edel is the bigger one and Uzura is the smaller one; I named them myself,” she claimed with pride.

“Hmpf!” Fakir himself began to stifle a snicker, “hah!”

“What’s so funny! I think those names are cute,” she pouted with anger and embarrassment.

“I-I’m not laughing at the names, moron, it’s—“ he hesitated sharing the next part, but failed to truly care, “their kinda tickling me, pft!”

Ahiru stared at him blankly for a moment, before bursting out into laughter.

“I didn’t imagine you to be the ticklish type!” She howled.

Fakir wanted to defend his image, but instead he simply smiled at her.

—

Fakir got back to the office, only to see that Autor had been packing up to leave.

“Oh, Fakir,” he peered at him from behind his computer, “I figured you crashed and died on the side of the road somewhere. Seems like you took around 5 hours extra.”

Autor was dishing out his usual snide comments, and Fakir simply scoffed, “I’m honored that you displayed so much concern for me, truly.”

Then Fakir paused when he processed the second part of Autor’s comment.

“Wait, 5 hours…extra?”

Autor cocked a brow at his coworker, “Um, yeah… its 7 p.m.”

Looking at the clock upon the wall, Fakir saw that it was indeed 7 o’clock, and collapsed into his chair.

He had spent 6 hours at the sanctuary, and little did he know that it was only the beginning of a series of unfamiliarly reasoned visits.

Chapter Text

February 14

Fakir had been working on the sanctuary article for around a month now. He had also fallen into the habit of visiting the place once or twice every week.

It was also important to note that he “just so happened” to see Ahiru every time he visited.

They would talk about the birds—more so  she would ramble on about her knowledge, and he would listen—or walk along the vast trails within the park. At some point along the way, they had almost become comfortable.

Ahiru began to look forward to Fakir’s weekly visit, and Fakir found himself restraining the urge to turn weekly visits into daily ones.

Today, however, Fakir had—for the first time—reconsidered his decision to go to the sanctuary. The office contained within it a pair of moping girls occupying the other side of the reception desk. The two had their backs turned to the entrance, and didn’t seem to notice Fakir come into the space.

“I can’t believe I’m spending today here, Lillie,” the girl with a pink bun sulked.

“Oh, my poor Pique, we must share this fated anguish!” The blonde besides her feigned.

The girl covered her face with her hands, “Hnng, when will I finally spend a valentines day with someone?”

Ah, so it was valentines day. How could Fakir forget? It was the most obnoxious day of the year.

Then, he heard a familiar voice come from one of the storage rooms behind the desk.

“Pique, Lillie, where was the—“ Ahiru appeared surprised, “Oh, Fakir! What are you doing here?”

The two girls at the desk turned around to realize that there had been a man behind them for who knows how long, and they proceeded to whisper bashfully to each other.

Nonetheless, Fakir placed his focus on Ahiru, “I just came by for my usual work, that’s all.”

She chuckled, “I figured that, silly. You don’t have a special someone to spend today with?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “I honestly didn’t realize what day it was until a few seconds ago.”

“Hah!” Ahiru continued to laugh, “I guess I’m not too surprised, you don’t have a romantic bone in your body!”

Fakir nodded his head in agreement, but for some reason he felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.

Then, the entrance door opened to another visitor.

Fakir watched as Ahiru’s eyes filled with awe as her lips slowly parted. Turning around to follow her gaze, he saw an individual whom he knew very well standing at the doorway.

Ahiru’s voice became higher with nerves, “G-good morning, Mytho!”

He smiled at the redhead, “Good morning, Ahiru,” and turned to Fakir, “Didn’t expect to run into you here, what a surprise!”

“We’re also surprised to see you here Mytho!” Pique exclaimed, which created an opening for Lillie to tease him. “You’re not spending the day with a super-special someone either?” She questioned. Ahiru seemed interested in his response.

“Not really, just some dinner plans with a few friends,” he turned to Fakir again, “Actually, I was going to call to invite you soon. Will you join us?”

“Sure. But, we aren’t getting dessert this time. I don’t want to put up with Rue any longer than I have to.” Fakir’s response was void of any enthusiasm, and he was in fact already dreading the activity. However, he knew he’d eventually give into Mytho’s begging one way or another, so he decided to just save both of them the effort.

Being in between the two friends, Ahiru cut in, “I had no idea you two knew each other, and pretty close at that.”

Fakir nodded, “We’re childhood friends.”

“Really!? How cool! I wish I had one of those.”

Smiling at there interaction, Mytho also interjected. “I also find it interesting that you two…seem to get along?”

The pair glanced at one another and looked back to Mytho. “Yeah…we get along. She’s been very helpful in providing information,” Fakir managed, unsure where the girl fell on the scale between acquaintance and friend.

“So…” Ahiru filled the slowly incoming silence, “What brought you to the sanctuary, Mytho?”

“Right!” He beamed at the redhead, “I wanted to visit Tutu today.”

Ahiru clasped her hands together, “Oh! Of course! She’ll be so happy to see you!”

As the two lit up before him, Fakir raised a brow. “Tutu? You’re pet swan is…here?”

“Not my pet,” Mytho corrected, “and yes, she belongs to this park. In fact, Ahiru here is her main caretaker!”

Fakir looked back at the girl, who was now a noticeably deep shade of red, despite trying to hide her blush by looking down.

“I-it’s no big deal…” Ahiru mumbled, “Why don’t we go see her now, then?”

—————————

Fakir found himself tagging along. He also found that he had already become quite familiar with the pathways. Although, he did feel a bit like a third wheel listening to Mytho and Ahiru nerd-out about birds and ballet. Then, Fakir had realized something.

“You like ballet, Ahiru?” He finally joined in on the conversation.

“Hm? Oh well…” she scratched the back of her neck nervously, and she seemed to struggle to speak about her relationship with the subject. Fortunately, Mytho provided some of the information he knew.

“Actually, the reason I know Ahiru is because she’s a regular audience member at the Goldcrowne theatre! She shows up to practically every show my troupe performs.”

Ahiru shifted the story’s focus to Mytho, “It was crazy to find out that you not only help your dad out with the family business, but also perform in Mr. Kat’s troupe!”

He chuckled, “My dad wants me to inherit his position, but I simply love ballet too much. I don’t think I could ever give it up.”

Once again, Fakir watched Ahiru’s eyes grow in awe, except this time there was a trace of longing.

“I admire your dedication to your passion, Mytho.” She smiled, but her eyes were veiled with a hint of sadness.

“You know, you should’ve seen Fakir back in the day, he was also quite the dancer back when he used to take classes with me!” Mytho reminisced gleefully.

Ahiru instantly lit up again, “No way, really!? Hah! It’s hard to believe.”

“Don’t pay attention to what that moron says,” Fakir scowled, trying to bury the fact to where he felt it belonged, which was six feet under.

Mytho let out a hearty laugh, “It’s true! Popular with the ladies as well. Maybe if you can find a way to convince him he’ll show you a few moves. If he’s not too rusty, that is.”

The two continued to chuckle away at the thought, much to Fakir’s disdain.

—————————

They reached a pond which was a few ways off from the main trail. It was enchanting and nearly fairytale-like in it’s setting, with vines hanging over head and white swans gracefully floating over on top of the surface. Mytho was immediately able to pick out Tutu, she being the only swan that had a feather sticking precariously up from the top of her head.

“That feather is so goofy looking,” Fakir glanced over at the short redhead, “She kinda resembles you, Ahiru.”

“Qua-!” Ahiru glared at him, “what’s that supposed to mean!?”

“You even sound like one. Were you raised by ducks or something?” Fakir wanted to smirk, but kept a neutral expression.

“Say what you want, but this duck bites back!”

“How threatening,” he feigned fear.

“Fakir, don’t be so rude,” Mytho mildly scolded.

Ahiru looked pleased, “Yeah Fakir, what he said.” She crossed her arms, and appeared to have remembered something. “Oh! Mytho, isn’t Tutu’s birthday coming up soon?”

He nodded, “Yes. She'll be turning 20 in march."

“20?” Fakir was a bit taken aback, “How long do swans live?”

“Swans have an estimated lifespan of around 12 years,” Ahiru looked at Tutu, “However, in a safe environment like this, they can live to around 30.”

The trio hung around the pond for a bit, casually talking and playing with the swans and the few ducklings that wondered over. Mytho was soon in a hurry to take care of some errands so he could prepare for his evening dinner plans, and parted with everyone.

Fakir and Ahiru were left sitting next to each other on a large rock by the waterside. Tutu swam towards the food Ahiru threw into the lake, and they watched her elegantly sift through the pond’s surface.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” She began enthusiastically.

Fakir remained silent, and listened intently.

“Animals tend to live longer lifespans in captivity, but in most cases it sacrifices part of their freedom. It’s kinda like humans in way, don’t ya think?” She threw another piece of feed onto the surface, “Sometimes I wonder which type of life is better: a secured yet caged bird, or one that lives in constant risk of flying too close to the sun?”

Truthfully, Fakir wasn’t sure what to say. But her conflict definitely resonated with him, deeply. He took the plastic bag full of feed from her hands, and threw a piece into the water. He repeated a series of words he held dear.

“‘May those who accept their fate be granted Happiness, may those who defy their fate be granted Glory.’ I read those words in a book a long time ago, and they’ve always stuck with me.”

Fakir looked at Ahiru in the eye and sighed.

“Well…the beautiful thing about being human is that we get to make that choice. Which ever option sounds preferable, is up to the individual.” He handed her back the bag, and that awe he saw fill her eyes previously had lingered between their gaze for a brief moment.

The pair headed back down the trail right as the sun began to set, giving Fakir enough time to get ready in time for the dinner plans he had made earlier in the day. They bid each other farewell.

“I suppose I have to go put up with whatever Mytho’s got planned now. I don’t suppose you have to sit through any formalities tonight?”

Ahiru smiled awkwardly, “I do have my own plans, actually. I hope your dinner will be as fun as mine!”

“You have dinner plans?” He had to admit to not expecting that response.

“Yeah…” Ahiru chuckled, “There are a few kids I need to take care of…”

“Kids?” Fakir wasn’t usually one to poke his nose in unnecessary business, but the vagueness of her story made him somewhat curious, for whatever reason.

She waved her hands, “not mine, of course. I visit the children at the orphanage every now and then, and always make sure to stay for dinner on holidays.”

“Oh.”

Fakir hesitated, “How come?”

Ahiru was a little surprised to hear him ask that, as most people just assumed it to be charity work or out of pity. She didn’t like sharing facts about herself to people she didn’t know to well, and while she was aware she had only cracked the surface of who Fakir is, she felt a strange sort of kinship with him.

“It was the orphanage…I used to live in, actually. They’re like family to me.” She gave a nervous laugh, “sorry, It just always feels weird to tell people about that.”

Fakir softly sighed with a sense of solidarity. “I understand how you feel. I was an orphan once, too.”

Ahiru’s head shot up again to face him, eyes racked with bewilderment. For the first time, Fakir considered the possibility of Valentines day not being the most obnoxious day of the year. For some, at least.

“You’re full of surprises today, aren’t you?”

“I could apply that to you, too.”

—————————

Fakir was sat at—for what he considered—an overly fancy table, with Mytho, Rue, and a few of their troupe members. Troupe members, he noted, were nearly strangers to him save for a few who had been unfortunate acquaintances.

Hours before, it had been made very apparent and obvious that Ahiru harbored feelings for his best friend, Mytho, as many women had. And, as he watched Rue fail in her attempts to make the dense man notice her in the way she wanted him to, Fakir began feeling sorry for the redhead.

Chapter Text

Exhausted by spending the entire night with the children of the orphanage —and Ms. Edel, whom she named one of her favorite birds in the aviary after—Ahiru headed home to her quaint little apartment. She wished she could at least say she lived in a safe neighborhood, but even she wasn’t that delusional.

It was here, alone at her apartment, where dreams shrunk into dormancy, and reality truly hit. She didn’t spend much time here. More accurately, she avoided it like the plague most days.

It was here, in her apartment, that she hid her shoes. She hid them away to be out of sight, but where they resided always remained to haunt the back area of her mind.

Top shelf of the closet, to the right corner, inside a wooden chest. That’s where they were. Just three steps it took to have them in her hands.

but the thought was too painful. So, in order to increase the amount of steps it took to reach those shoes, she let herself parade around the outside world until she was to exhausted too stand.

Today, she laid in bed, staring at the closet door.

Top shelf, right corner.

there’s a chest.

She closed her eyes, and prayed that at least her subconscious could dream.

Chapter Text

March 21

It was Tutu’s birthday.

Ahiru had worked at the aviary for four years now, and each year she anxiously awaited for Mytho’s visit on this particular day in March. He would spend most of his day there, and she would be given those few hours to hangout with him alone. 

As expected, a familiar feathery-haired man carrying picnic supplies came through the door by noon. This time, however, a beautiful young woman trailed behind him. She had thick, black hair and vibrant ruby eyes. 

”Ahiru!” Mytho greeted with a wave, “I’m sure you recognize my friend from the troupe,” he gestured to the woman behind him.

She did indeed recognize the crow-like woman to be Goldcrowne’s star dancer, “You’re Rue Cafdan!” Ahiru mused, “You’re even prettier up close!”

Rue chuckled at the girl’s straightforwardness, “Thank you… and you’re as cute as they say.”

Ahiru raised a brow at the comment, and quietly muttered her query to Rue, “Who’s they?”

Just then, the sound of the door being swung open was followed by Fakir’s entrance.

“No one in particular,” Rue smirked. She had asked Fakir about Tutu’s caretaker in advance, and recalled that his explanation involved the very word slipping out. 

Ahiru diverted her gaze from Rue and looked over to the grumpy journalist who steadily approached, “Hey, Fakir!”

”Hi, Ahiru,” His eyes landed on her left arm, “finally got that cast off?”

”Hm?” Ahiru glanced down at herself, “Yeah…” she seemed a little less enthusiastic about the development than one would expect out of a person with a recently healed bone.

Rue took the opportunity to tease the two, ”I can’t believe I actually get to witness Mr. Up-tight and Ms. Up-beat get along.” She looked at Mytho and addressed the entire group, “Well, then, shall we go see Tutu?”

Ahiru nodded, and led everyone to the pond.

Upon arrival, Mytho set up the picnic basket and blanket he brought. Rue immediately swept in to help him, taking up all of his attention. Not wanting to be around that specific pair, Fakir followed Ahiru, who went to go look for Tutu. They walked around the perimeter of the pond, finding the beautiful swan curled up besides a bush.

”C’mon Tutu, Mytho came to visit!” Ahiru gestured for the bird to come towards her, but she didn’t seem to budge. “That’s weird, she never ignores me…”

“Hey, Ahiru, I think we have a situation…” Fakir had walked behind Tutu and crouched down, pointing inwards towards the bush. “You might want to check this out.”

She walked over and knelt down besides him, her eyes following to where his fingertip guided.

Tutu had eggs.

“Oh my,” Ahiru lifted her hands to her face, “She’s never laid eggs before!”

“Do they only mate once or something?”

“No…Swans typically produce eggs every year, but Tutu’s never had her own.” The corners of Ahiru’s lips lifted into a smile, “This is so exciting!”

Fakir’s face softened at the girl’s amusement, watching her light up over something as simple as a few eggs made him feel happier as well.

“Mytho! Rue! You’re gonna have to move the picnic over here!” Ahiru yelled all the way across the pond, frantically waving a hand to get their attention. The two saw her jumping up and down next to Tutu, and glanced at each other before sighing and packing up everything they just set out.

The redhead watched as the two talked and laughed on the way over. She spoke softly to Fakir, “They’d make a pretty perfect pair, huh?”

“And what makes you think that?” Fakir raised a brow.

Ahiru explained, “Rue’s graceful and kind, just like Mytho. And, she clearly cares a lot about him, I can already tell.”

“Hah! Rue, kind.” Fakir rolled his eyes, “Even if she does care a lot, Mytho’s too dense to notice or pick up any of her signals.”

The girl frowned at him, “she’s probably frustrated. Poor Rue.”

Fakir didn’t understand Ahiru’s pity. Don’t you have the same problem? he thought.

The exact pair the two had been discussing finally reached a close distance, and set the supplies down. Mytho immediately went to Ahiru.

“Is something wrong with Tutu? Why did we have to move?”

She simply giggled, and tugged the sleeve of Mytho’s shirt to guide him to the bird. “Look,” she showed him.”

“Eggs!”

Ahiru hummed in confirmation, “Yup! We’re gonna see some mini Tutus soon!”

Mytho grinned, “Oh, how exciting!”

Behind them, Fakir silently shook his head as he observed how similar the two could be. Rue, meanwhile, had grabbed the picnic supplies and dropped them besides the ponytailed writer.

“You go set it up this time, I’m not doing it again.” She left him immediately to go to Mytho.

He grumbled something unsavory under his breath, and began to unwillingly roll out the checker-patterned blanket. Ahiru, who was avoiding potentially third-wheeling a conversation, saw Fakir struggle with the fabric against the wind, and grabbed one of the corners to lend a hand. He looked at her with a stare that she somehow understood to mean “Thank you,” and she helped him set up everything inside the basket as well. Once done, they called Rue and Mytho to eat, only after having their first picks at the food.

Tuna sandwiches in hand, Tutu lifted herself from her spot and began to slowly waddle over to the group. Mytho chuckled, “Couldn’t resist, hm?”

The bird let out a honk that could be categorized as “sassy” and poked her beak at him to ask for a piece. He happily provided.

With Tutu up and about, Ahiru went to go sneak a better look the eggs.

“Wow. Its only four, but they’re pretty big!” She looked at Fakir, simply to have someone to share the information with. He lifted his head to glance at them from where he was sitting. The eggs were grey with a blue-ish tint, and the color reminded him of something he couldn’t quite name. Ahiru tip-toe crouched back to Fakir.

“I just love the color of swan eggs!” She sighed and stared at him again, eyes searching his.

Ah, that was it. Her eyes.

He looked at her eyes, which were the most brilliant blue he’d ever seen. However, it wasn’t her iris that the eggs reminded him of, but rather the area around them. “Huh.”

Ahiru tilted her head, “what is it?” She senses his stare, “Do I have something in my teeth?”

Fakir shook his head, “No, no. Its just that…” he glanced elsewhere, “your eyes are so blue that even your sclera appears to have a blue-ish tint, just like the swan eggs.”

Her face dropped, “My sclera’s…blue…”

The tips of Ahiru’s fingers found themselves resting on her bottom eyelid, and she turned away from Fakir’s gaze. Despite her already short stature, the girl seemed to shrink even more in on herself.

“Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He felt like he had said something he shouldn’t have, but wasn’t sure what or why. Was she self conscious about her eyes?

“I’m-I’m fine,” she meant to put him at ease, but he could tell she was lying.

Fakir turned serious, “Ahi-“

“Ahiru!” Rue interrupted, “Could you take a picture of Mytho and I for me?” She gestured to a polaroid camera in her hand.

The redhead un-shrunk from her position and mentally shook herself into a smile, “Of course!”

With some concern, Fakir watched as Ahiru took a picture of her crush with a different girl right after she appeared hurt by a comment. A comment he made, of course. What could he cause, if not harm?

Everyone settled back down after Ahiru handed the camera back to Rue, and Mytho seemed to remember something.

“Hey, Fakir, didn’t you tell me you had something to say earlier?”

Shit. It wasn’t a preferable timing for the announcement, but he decided to finally “get it over with.”

He sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, glancing once at Ahiru before speaking up.

“I finished the article. It should be up by tomorrow…”

Mytho beamed, “Oh, wonderful! I knew you were working on it.”

Fakir side-eyed him, “you doubted me?”

“Nope, but I did,” Rue laughed, thinking she had earned herself a scowl as per usual—however, she found the writer to be looking elsewhere.

In fact, he had turned to glance at Ahiru, who looked back at him with wide eyes. They both quickly diverted their gazes.

The day had continued out as planned, except the two had an awkward tension around them. Through all the stories, conversations, and games that filled the evening’s activities, a hesitation filled the space between Ahiru and Fakir.

Finally, the day came to a close.

Mytho and Rue left first, having arrived together. They bid their goodbyes, and as always, Mytho thanked Ahiru for looking after Tutu. As they exited the reception office, the sound of the door closing was the last thing to be heard before both Fakir and Ahiru were shrouded in silence.

The feeling made the back of Fakir’s neck itch, and all he could muster out was a quiet, “um.”

He was dreading this moment, truly. He no longer had an excuse to come to the aviary, and it felt like he had now reached the end of his visits. ‘Well, I suppose I won’t be coming around anymore,’  were the very words he struggled to let out. Ahiru, however, didn’t even let him have the chance to say them.

“Hey,” she began, “I know that you’re done with the article, and everything, but you don’t need a reason like that to come and visit, right?”

Some surprise softly spread across Fakir’s expression.

She continued, “I-I mean, you’re always welcome to come and say hi, if you want. Edel and Uzura have become really fond of you, and I’m sure they’ll start to miss you!”

Fakir was notably taken aback by the sentiment. He suppressed a forming smirk, “Is there anyone else who’ll miss me?”

Ahiru fidgeted nervously with her jacket zipper . I’ll miss you, too, she wanted to add, but couldn’t find the courage when she normally had it.

“Maybe Tutu…”

He huffed out a single chuckle, “I see.” Fakir shrugged and faked an exhausted sigh, “I guess I have no choice but to swing by, then.”

Ahiru smiled.

“You don’t need a reason like that to come and visit, right?”

It was another late-night of Fakir laying in bed, contemplating the contents of his life. Today, the redhead’s words played on loop in his mind.

“If i’m not going for a reason ‘like that,’ then what reason am I going for?” He muttered into his pillow. He knew he wasn’t going for the birds.

Well, maybe they were part of the reason…he had grown to like the little creatures more and more, after all. However, he knew that wasn’t the sole cause for his longing.

No, the answer was quite simple, actually. It wasn’t a matter of finding an answer, but finding the strength to admit it.

It was Ahiru. He wanted to see Ahiru, for unfamiliar reasons.

Fakir opened up the contacts on his phone, and replayed what had happened earlier that night in his head.

She smiled at him, and just as he was about to leave, she stopped him.

“Wait! Fakir, can I give you something?”

He was curious, “sure, what is it?”

Ahiru held up a finger, as to say “give me a moment,” and rushed to the desk for a paper and pen. She quickly jotted something down, and handed him the parchment. A single 10 digit number was written on it.

“This…is my phone number,” she felt a little silly “just in case you want to ever contact me, of course!”

Fakir had since then entered the number into his device. All he needed to do now was send a message. He lifted the phone above his head, staring at the empty text box as the little type marker flashed on screen. He thought of what to say, but his grip had loosened on him and he dropped the cell right on top of his face. “Ow!”

Pulling himself together, he simply typed, “Ahiru.”

Almost immediately the message got marked as “read” and Fakir’s jaw tightened as he saw three little dots appear, letting him know that she was typing back.

“That’s me!”

He smiled to himself, and wrote, “Just making sure you didn’t write-in the wrong number.”

“I would never do that! That’s too mean.”

“Oh, I know. You might not be mean enough to do it, but you’re clumsy enough to do it.”

“Don’t make me regret giving you my number >:(“

He exhaled a small laugh, “now that’s mean.”

More typing dots appeared on the screen, but disappeared without a message to follow afterwards.

Ahiru paused brushing her teeth, reading over all of Fakir’s messages. She began to type out something, but deleted it. She grunted in frustration, and tried again.

“Would you ever want to…” No. It just wasn’t right, so she deleted it again.

Perhaps it just wasn’t the right time.

She spat out her mouth wash, and looked at herself in the mirror. Ahiru recalled what Fakir had said after she looked at Tutu’s eggs.

He noticed her blue-tinted sclera. He was perceptive.

The girl could only continue to wonder what other symptoms would become apparent to him as time went on.

Chapter Text

April 21

But, he knew the truth. For whatever reason, she had made a cage for herself within that little nook just beyond the garden. It was where she escaped to; where she ran to whenever she couldn’t find the strength to confront her problems face-to-face, and thus, she ended up spending all of her time there. Hours and hours, caged in that tiny nook that she called a ‘safe place,’ for she was a bird trapped only by her own limits.

Fakir had been in the middle of writing the next chapter of his novel. Sure, he was currently on the clock for his part-time journalist job, but he had already caught up on all of his projects and found some spare time to cram-in a bit of personal writing. Autor usually liked scolding him for it, but he appeared to be too knee-deep in his work to notice it today. The sound of clicking keyboards between the two men were the only sound that filled the small office room.

Then, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in!” Autor always enjoyed responding to door knocks; it was one of the few situations in which he got to order people around.

The director’s assistant slightly opened the door and peered in, eyes darting between the two men. “Fakir smith?”

“That’s me.” Fakir raised a hand for a split second, only to quickly take it back to continue his typing.

The woman smiled, “Boss would like to speak with you, sir.”

He eyed the assistant, grunted while he finished writing out a sentence, and hastily followed her to the director’s office.

April 29

Fakir’s weekly visits had become more and more frequent ever since exchanging numbers with Ahiru. She stayed at the sanctuary—usually inside the aviary—from early morning to late at night. It seemed like she spent her entire day there, so it was easy to find the time to hang out. Although, he began having to find more private areas to sit and talk on the days that the sanctuary was opened to other outside visitors.

This past week, however, his frequent visits became daily.

Ahiru watched Fakir as he walked into the aviary with a heavy sigh and collapsed onto one of the scenic benches. He would claim that he had “nothing better to do” and proceed keep her company from noon to night.

She had watched him repeat this cycle every day for entire week. So, naturally, when he came in with his usual routine today—and earlier than in days previous, to add— Ahiru finally spoke up about her concerns.

“What’s wrong?” She pouted at him, determined.

“Hm?” He tried acting aloof, “Why would anything be wrong?”

She crossed her arms, “Fakir, I’ve spent enough time with you to know that you are a very practical person. I’m sure you have better things to do than lay around here all day, even though you say you don’t.”

He looked at her heavy eyes for a moment.

“Ive just been…” he sighed and looked away, “really on top of my work lately, so I’ve afforded myself a lot of free time.”

There was a loud silence between the two as he counted the seconds it took for Ahiru to judge his excuse. The tension melted away, however, when she sat down and joined him on the bench.

“I’m asking this because I care, Fakir,” She very slowly placed a hand on his back and attempted to look into his eyes, “Is there something that you’re avoiding?”

Surprised flashed across Fakir’s eyes, and he straightened his back to meet the girl’s gaze. “Ahiru…”

She simply continued to stare at him, and nodded her head in a way that choked the truth out of him.

He sucked in a defeated breath, “Alright. Yes, I’m avoiding work.” Fakir looked up at the ceiling, and just like his job, he avoided Ahiru’s eyes.

She frowned at him. “Why?”

There was no going back now, so he might as well explain.

“A few days ago the boss of the news outlet I work for asked to speak to me. He wants to give me a permanent, full-time position.”

Ahiru was visibly perplexed, “That’s…wonderful? Why aren’t you going to work?”

A somber expression filled his face. “If I make journalism my full-time job, I might not have enough time or energy left to work on my personal projects.”

“Oh.” the realization hit the girl like a bag of bricks.

“I just…I don’t know what to do.” He slumped over, elbows resting upon his knees, face resting in the palms of his hands.

Ahiru, however, wasn’t having it. She stood from the bench, “Well, there’s one thing you can’t  do. You can’t run away from reality for forever, Fakir. You have to face it, and you should probably do it now before you lose not only the permanent position, but your part-time one as well.”

The writer slowly lifted his head from his hands, and was met with the sight of a girl dressed in genuine passion and concern. It was at this moment that Fakir had begun to consider the young woman before him to be one of the wisest, most stubborn individuals he’d ever met. And she was right.

She continued, “Also…if you fear losing the ability to continue your passion so much that you avoid your job, I think you should factor that into your decision.”

Hell, she was right and it made him wrong. The fact that Fakir could even admit this to himself established the girl as a force to be reckoned with.

“Ahiru,” he stood, “I’m not stating the mental revelation I just made out loud for the sake of my twisted sense of pride, but, I’m going to go talk to my boss.”

He rushed out of the building, and she smiled.

Seeing his silhouette disappear through the glass walls of the aviary, she whispered, “Don’t let this place become for you  what it has become for me,  Fakir.”

Uzura flew onto Ahiru’s shoulder, and the redhead looked at the little bird. “I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite right now, aren’t I, Uzura?”

May 6

Despite what he thought, the girl herself knew that she was caged. Everyone around her had thought they had seen through her like glass, but in reality, the grave in which she was destined to be buried ran much deeper than anyone else knew, and she had known it all. She was trapped not only within her little nook, but within her own body as well.

Fakir had finally finished up the chapter that he began two weeks ago.

He had since accepted his boss’s offer to become a full-time journalist. Despite the sweet sentiment of Ahiru’s little speech, money was—unfortunately—an extremely necessary resource. However, it did help motivate him to cling onto the moments when he didn’t have too much work, but instead a lot of inspiration.

Yes, It would take him longer to write now, but a full-time job wasn’t enough to strip him of his passion and search for creative fulfillment.

He had also not visited the aviary in a week with the increased amount of work. Ahiru, however, remained a constant floating thought in the back of his mind. He thought about her spending the entire day in that building, while he had spent his days doing on-site research and even the ability to get work done within the comfort of his home. So, he thought of an idea to get her more out-and-about.

“Hey, Ahiru?” Fakir called her up from his office, “Are you in the aviary?”

She came in from the other end, “Of course. Coming by today?”

He leaned a bit in his chair, “No, actually, I wanted to ask you something.”

”Alright…what is it?” 

He fiddled around with one of his small desk decorations, “Would you want to go somewhere with me during lunch breaks?”

She was quiet for a moment, and during that pause Fakir wished he could take it all back. 

“Somewhere?” She asked, with genuine intrigue.

”Er, yeah,” He sat up, “just…somewhere else—it could be anywhere.”

a faint chuckle from Ahiru had been picked up by the receiver, “Alright. Tomorrow, then?” 

He smiled, “Sounds good,” and hung up.

Next to him, Autor smirked. “Who’s Ahiru?”

Fakir scowled at him, “Go back to work.”

Chapter Text

May 7

The sun was so blinding that Fakir could’ve mistaken the season for summer. Spring had certainly come quicker this year, but the journalist wasn’t sure as to whether or not that was the fault of global warming or the fact that he had begun to walk with a “spring” in his step. He didn’t know why, but the flowers that began to bloom this year appeared more vibrant than they ever had before, and the smiles of passing strangers seemed more infectious than the pollen in the air. They say that the season represents new developments; accordingly, Fakir was on his way to what one could consider a “new development”—which was his first lunch with Ahiru, who he had set up a time with everyday for when they would spend their break together. They were “Lunch buddies”, as deemed by the peculiar redhead.

Fakir softly exhaled a snicker as he continued walking down the street.

•••

Ahiru patiently waited by the entrance of a charming little café, which she always managed to pass by on her way to work. She parked her little yellow moped on the side of the street, and had since been on the look-out for a particular writer.

Well, there he was, just down the street.

The redhead waved him down, but it proved unnecessary since he had already spotted her the second she entered his line of sight. The girl definitely stood out more than most.

“Hey, Ahiru,” he allowed himself to crack a half-smile.

“C’mon inside; I’m starving,” she looked at him excitedly.

As she briefly stared at him, Fakir couldn’t help but study her blueish sclera. He could tell it had bothered her before when he had mentioned it to her, but he couldn’t stop himself from wondering as to why it had made her feel that way. It was definitely something he hadn’t seen anyone else possess as a physical trait before, but if he were honest, he found it kind of beautiful.

As soon as they took their seats, things admittedly felt a little awkward. Fakir had never really interacted with or seen Ahiru outside of the sanctuary, and other than that, he didn’t really hang out with anyone other than Mytho much.

Ahiru began playfully folding one of the napkins on the table, “I feel kinda weird going around town in my work clothes…”

“I see a lot of uniform workers around town who are on break, so there’s no reason to feel weird,” he glanced at her. The sanctuary employees were forced to wear knee-length white shorts and a green polo that had the company’s logo stitched onto the right side of the chest.

She chuckled, “It’s still kinda weird, but thanks.”

A waiter came to give the pair their drinks, and Ahiru appeared especially excited when handed a paper-wrapped straw. When the waiter left, she immediately and precisely bunched up the paper wrapping by pulling it down while stripping it from the plastic straw.

“Fakir, look at this!” She smiled energetically while glancing up at him, dipping the straw into her water.

He watched her with a puzzled expression, “what are you doing?”

Answering his question through action, she took out her straw from the water and let a drop fall onto the bunched up paper wrap, causing it to quickly expand and unravel out like a worm. Ahiru giggled at the little table trick she performed, and Fakir couldn’t help but smile at her simple amusement.

Lunches with Ahiru are going to be interesting, he thought.

May 10

They had decided to bring pre-packed lunches with them today, and proceeded to nibble away at their food while sitting upon a park bench.

“So that’s why you don’t have a last name?” Fakir was only halfway through chewing his food, “No one adopted you?”

“Yeah, and no one knew my parents since I was just left on the steps.”

“Right out of a movie…”

She chuckled and hummed in agreement, “I could also never come up with a last name that I liked. My old caretaker, Ms. Edel, suggested I use the name of the orphanage for my last name, but “Ahiru Kinkan” just doesn’t feel right either.”

“At least your surname isn’t “smith”, I can’t tell you how many times I got mixed up with how common it is.”

She laughed, “Well your first name is definitely unique, so that’s a plus!”

He gave her a small smirk, “yeah, I know my name is strange. What’s your’s again? Oh right, it’s “Ahiru.””

She playfully shoved his shoulder, and the rest of their break was spent one-upping each other’s come-backs. Despite the sun beating down on the earth’s surface, the wind was enough to keep the weather nice. Time was a tricky thing, and it slipped by quickly during moments one would wish to last longer.

“I like it here,” Ahiru began, “we should come to this park again.”

May 12

The pair had entered a flow, and their little lunch breaks spent together were slowly becoming just another regular part of their schedule.

Sometimes she’d swing by Fakir’s office when Autor wasn’t there to be a bothersome snob, and other times Fakir would pick Ahiru up from the sanctuary to go somewhere. (He had noticed her having to bike everywhere they decided to meet up, and wanted to save her from exerting more energy than necessary.)

Today, they had gone to explore a street food festival that had been set up in town.

May 13

“Fakir!” Ahiru waved to get his attention, “Look, there’s a few turtles in the pond!”

He came over, and spent they spent their remaining time feeding some things—that they had googled whether or not were safe—to the turtles.

May 14

Fakir’s work had an office party to celebrate some sort of anniversary (He didn’t care to remember the details), and had brought some of the left over food as his lunch.

“Let me try one of your little pastries,” Ahiru said eagerly as she was already reaching to grab one of the small treats.

“Have as much as you want.” He had brought stuff to share, after all.

May 15

Mytho sat up in his desk chair with surprise, “Fakir, you haven’t come to visit all week!”

“Yeah,” he went to sit across from Mytho, “Sorry about that.”

Mytho simply nodded, “Are you busier now because of the full-time position? Usually you’d be able to make it here for lunch a few times per week.”

On instinct, Fakir was about to go along with the excuse, but since Rue wasn’t around, he thought he might as well tell the truth.

The writer briefly looked at his friend before diverting his eyes to focus on one of the bookshelves, “Actually, Mytho, I’ve been spending my lunch breaks with Ahiru recently. That’s why I haven’t come to visit as often.”

There was a silence that only lasted a small second before Mytho beamed with excitement.

“You and Ahiru are going out for lunch? How delightful! I should join guys sometime, and I should invite Rue along as well…”

“Huh? Wait—“ Fakir tried to stop Mytho from spiraling into planning out a whole evening, but the writer found himself frozen. All he could do was try to quietly wave his friend down as he began to type away on his phone.

“Already texted Ahiru, she say’s my arrangements all sound good!”

Oh boy, Fakir thought. He should’ve just taken the excuse. It was fine if Mytho wanted to tag along, but Rue? In his mind, three was already a sizable crowd.

“Great…that’s great, Mytho.”

•••

Having completed all of her tasks for the day, Ahiru hung out with Pique and Lillie at the new rescue nursery. The two spent most of their time on the clock tending to the animals there.

“So, Is that journalist friend of yours single?” Inquired Pique, while assisting a one-legged parrot to bathe.

“Well…” Ahiru eyed her friend strangely, “yes, but why are you asking?”

“He’s hot? If you’re not trying to snatch him up, maybe I will!” She exclaimed.

The redhead was simply flabbergasted, “He’s…what!?”

Pique explained, “He’s so aloof and mysterious, isn’t he? Not to mention tall…”

Ahiru was dumbfounded. “What…”

“How do you not see it!?”

She huffed, “Trust me, that man is too much of a grump for romance and too mean to be…to be…”

Lillie chimed in, “Oh Pique, don’t you see? Little Ahiru is blinded by her crush on another man!”

“Ohhh, that makes sense…” Pique pressed a finger to her chin in contemplation.

“Wh—“ Ahiru sputtered, “I don-“

Then, her phone rung with a message. The redhead picked up her device to read the notification on the screen.

“Who’s it from?” Asked the blonde, curious for any conflict.

“Mytho, he wants to have lunch with Fakir and I…”

Lillie and Pique glanced at each other before quietly giggling at a shared thought.

It was strange, but Ahiru admittedly felt a bit conflicted by the proposition. Nonetheless, she accepted it. What was there to be conflicted about, anyway?

Before going home, the redhead frequented an underground and low-activity bar. She liked to talk to the owner, Ebine, and update the bar tender about the things her life.

“Can I get a Virgin Piña Colada?”

Ebine raised a brow at the girl, “Why do you come here if you never order anything with alcohol?”

“Because It’s nice here…and I like the owner,” she smiled innocently.

The stout-statured woman smiled back, “I suppose I shouldn’t question my favorite customer.” She immediately began preparing the drink, “So, what’s new in your life, dear?”

Ahiru drew invisible circles on the counter with her finger and sighed, “Nothing much…”

There was a sound of a few clinking glasses before the bar tender turned to face the girl, “Nothing much? That sigh sounded like it had a reason behind it dearie.”

The redhead sunk in on herself until her chin touched the counter, “It really isn’t anything much—I just feel…a bit conflicted?”

“About what?”

The girl sat up a but more, now resting her weight on her elbows, “You know that new friend I made, the part-time journalist, Fakir?”

Ebine began mixing the drink, “Of course. He’s your little lunch buddy now, right?”

“Yes,” Ahiru was handed her Piña Colada, “that’s partially what I’m conflicted about.”

“Do tell.”

She took a sip, “Well apparently Mytho learned that we’ve been hanging out during lunch break, and asked if he could join us tomorrow. He also wants to invite his other friend, Rue. I said yes, but honestly I’m not too sure how I feel about it…”

Ebine crossed her arms, “That’s strange…you really like Mytho! You’re really not excited?” Then the woman raised her brows in revelation, “Ah! You must be jealous that he’s inviting another girl!”

“Qua-! That’s—That’s not it!” Ahiru looked determined, “Plus, I think Rue’s amazing!”

The girl calmed and continued, “It’s more like…it feels weird to include more people…but I don’t know why I’d feel that way?”

“Hm, I see,” Ebine tapped her finger upon the bar counter, “I want to meet this Fakir guy.”

“I have a picture of us together, if you want to see what he looks like!”

The woman hastily nodded, and the two leaned in towards each other to look at Ahiru’s phone. The girl opened up her photos and tapped on a section labeled as “favorites” and opened up a picture that included both her and the writer.

“Oh my!” Ebine exclaimed, “He’s handsome!”

The redhead quickly turned to her, “Wh-what!?”

“What do you mean, what? Reel that in, That’s a keeper!”

“Urrgh!” Ahiru buried her face into her hands, “That’s what Pique said! I don’t understand you guys…” she mumbled through her palms.

“Someone’s in denial~” Ebine sang.

Ahiru let go of her face, and let her mind run through countless fleeting thoughts. Images of the writer appeared in her head briefly before disappearing, but the subject remained the same. She felt something twisting in her stomach before putting her face back into the palm of her hand.

Chapter Text

May 16

It was an awfully quiet evening in town. Birds made not a sound apart from the flapping of their wings when hopping from one tree to the next. The sky was also a bit cloudier than in days previous, but Ahiru smiled just as brightly when she saw a familiar man approaching from down the street.

The sight of the man, however, reminded the girl of a comment that a certain friend of hers had made earlier; ‘ He’s hot! If you’re not trying to snatch him up, maybe I will!’

Ahiru shook her head and muttered with a frown, “Damnit head Pique, be quiet or I swear—!”

“You don’t seem too happy to see me.”

Her eyes shot open, only to see the very writer now in front of her wearing a noticeably puzzled expression. She waved her hand around aimlessly, “No, no! I was just remembering a stupid comment my friend made…”

“What’d they say?” Fakir was only more perplexed than before.

“Errr…” Ahiru struggled on what to say, “nothing bad, it’s better not to get hung up about it!”

He gave her one last odd glance, before turning his head to see a familiar car parking nearby. As he expected, flashes of white and black hair peered out from the doors.

“Mytho! Rue!” Ahiru shouted and waved.

“You dont have to yell,” Fakir muttered loud enough for her to hear.

She pouted at him, “I’m just tryna get them to see where we are!”

•••

The four sat at a rectangular table outside, which was kindly shaded by an umbrella that sprouted from the center. Rue was first to take her seat, and Fakir made sure to sit as far as possible from her—meaning to the opposite side and diagonally away. The raven-haired woman glanced at the chair next to the writer, and then longingly at Mytho, having the foresight that he would choose to sit next to him over her. Ahiru was an incredibly perceptive girl, however, and quickly noticed Rue’s small dilemma as Mytho began walking over to sit. The redhead hastily made her way past the albino dancer, and went to take the chair next to Fakir.

Mytho faltered in his tracks very briefly, before resolving to take up the last vacant seat next to Rue, who was a little surprised at the quick series of events. She looked at the prince-like boy next to her, before turning to the girl across from her. Ahiru gave her a small yet knowing smile, and Rue’s eyes only opened up a bit wider in silent realization. She returned the redhead’s smile. Fakir noticed the little exchange, glancing at both of the women’s faces with curiosity.

As the straightforward individual she tended to be, Rue spoke up while looking at the girl, “You seem to have a really kind soul, Ahiru. Tell me, how could such a nice girl like you get along with that grouch over there?” She jerked her head in gesture towards Fakir.

“I’m right here, you know,” He eyed her with annoyance.

Ahiru giggled, “I’ve dealt with worse.”

Rue’s smile widened with impressment, “I could tell you were a hardened individual,” she chuckled, “you’d have to be to handle hanging with that one!”

“Oh don’t say that about Fakir,” Mytho tried to defend his friend as the two girls giggled away. Fakir, meanwhile, could only roll his eyes. He wasn’t one to make a big deal out of Rue’s little jabs at him.

He was, however, a bit concerned that Ahiru was seemingly hitting it off with the crow woman. The two spiraled into conversation with changing topics, and he focused back on what they were saying.

“Ive been teaching some new-money adults how to do the waltz. They’re planning on holding a party and renting out a ballroom to use their new skill and invited me, but I have no one to go with…” Rue told the freckled girl, as she quickly stole a glance at the boy sitting next to her.

Ahiru beamed, “You should teach Mytho!” the proposal had gotten his attention and she looked at him, “You’ve always wanted to learn how to waltz, right? When you’ve mastered it, you should go with Rue to the event!”

Rue looked at Mytho with surprise, “You don’t know how to waltz? How is that even possible!”

He chuckled at her, “Ive just never had the chance to learn, I suppose…but, if you’re willing to teach me, I’d be happy to take you to the party.”

She slowly smiled, “Sounds like a deal,” and looked at Ahiru with surprised gratitude for a split moment. The redhead winked at her before she turned back to Mytho.

Fakir elbowed the redhead, “Come with me to see if the food’s ready. I might need another pair of hands to carry stuff.”

Mytho looked at them, “Oh, I can help you—“

“It’s ok!” Ahiru interrupted, “You can stay here, I’ll go with Fakir.”

•••

The moment the pair entered inside, Fakir began to speak to her.

“Are you really trying to help Rue out with Mytho?” He looked at her with seriousness coating his eyes.

“Yeah…is there an issue?” Ahiru raised a brow.

He looked away from her gaze, “I just hope you’re not being too selfless. I know you have a tendency to self-sacrifice.”

She scoffed, “You worry a lot for someone who acts like they don’t care most of the time! Besides, it’s hardly any trouble at all!”

“You’re too kind,” he said softly to himself, and continued to look at the girl with concern. Concerned that she was going to end up hurting herself.

The two grabbed everyone’s food, and headed back to the table in silence.

•••

Everyone had finished their food, and were preparing to say their goodbyes. Rue watched out for Mytho and Fakir to be caught up in some sort of boring work-related talk to use the moment to scoot close to Ahiru.

She slipped the girl a small piece of paper. “This is personal phone number, I’d like to stay in touch with you.”

The redhead smiled eagerly, and then eyed an address that was written out under the number, “What’s this?” She pointed.

Rue glanced at the boys and then back to Ahiru before explaining, “That’s the address for the studio that the Goldcrowne troupe uses for practice. You should stop by and visit me sometime!”

Ahiru was surprised by the information, and felt like she had somehow infiltrated some sort of special club. Rue giggled at the girl’s expression before quickly getting up and waving goodbye as she left with Mytho.

Fakir had gone behind Ahiru and recognized the number that she held in her hands. She really did hit it off well with Rue, didn’t she? He wanted to sell her off of the idea, but was stopped when she turned to him.

“Ive made friends with Rue!” She exclaimed, elated by the development.

Oh, he couldn’t bare to become the monster. How could he?

“That’s…wonderful, Ahiru.” As long as she was happy, right?

•••

May 21

She had been putting it off for a few days despite really wanting to do it. She had filled herself with anxiety and self-doubt about the whole thing. Rue, however, had reassured the girl multiple times over text that it was perfectly fine, and that many of the members wanted to meet her.

So, Ahiru decided to finally visit the studio today.

She waited to get off from work, surprising both Lillie and Pique when she told them that she’d be leaving earlier than usual today, and made her merry way to the place on her bike.

It took her half an hour, and she got there at 3:30 P.M.

Rue had been notified of the redhead’s arrival, and came out to the front to greet her friend and let her inside.

Upon entering the studio, Rue immediately introduced her, and all of the members welcomed her enthusiastically. Ahiru felt silly for worrying so much previously. The atmosphere was full of energy that exuded from each of the performers, but place itself remained rather peaceful.

“Ahiru? How come you’re here?”

The girl turned to face the voice, and saw Mytho approaching her from the entrance. He appeared to just have returned from somewhere.

“I invited her to come,” Rue told him with a simple smirk.

The boy lit up, “Oh! It’s great to have you here as a guest, Ahiru!”

A smile crept up onto her face, and she decided that she wanted to come by everyday.

So, she did.

Slowly she met with and got to know the other members.

Freya was an ensemble dancer that also liked to prepare flowers for the show sets on the side.

Giselle was a veteran dancer who liked to keep quiet and remained in her corner of the room.

Hermia helped with costume design as well as being another dancer.

One of the more…interesting…of the supporting cast dancers was Femio, who seemed to be quite eccentric with his ideas and general disposition.

There was also Paulo and Paulamoni, who were the troupe’s designated choreographers. It had made sense, since they were noticeably older than many of the other members.

Everyone was very different from each other, but they all shared the same amount of passion for their profession, and took the job with much pride. It was nothing short of inspirational, and the pure love for ballet easily showed through all of the dancers.

Then, Ahiru got to meet the Troupe’s leader himself, Mr. Kat. However, she learned very soon that it would be short lived when he went to go make an announcement to everyone.

•••

Fakir had tried seeing Ahiru in the Aviary, but instead was told by Pique and Lillie that the redhead wasn’t there the second he had entered the reception office.

“What do you mean? She always works these hours.”

Pique looked at the man with a questioning stare, “You must not know. Ahiru’s shift actually ends fairly early at 3 P.M, but she usually stays overtime until around 9-10 or so, when we close everything up.”

Fakir was appalled by such information, “…What? Seriously?”

“I know right!” Pique waved a hand in the air, “and she doesn’t even get paid for it! I really don’t understand that girl…”

Why would she spend 6-7 hours of overtime everyday? Yeah, she was self-sacrificing and loved the birds, but no one in their right mind would do such a thing for zero compensation. Had Ahiru gone mad? Was the girl insane?

The young woman behind the counter continued, “Although, she has actually been clocking out at the end of her shift lately.”

Fakir looked at the floor and shook his head in utter shock, “So…where is she?”

Pique smirked.

•••

Mr. Kat stood before the entire troupe, which had huddled together in a crowd.

“As you all may know, I have ran this particular troupe for nearly 25 years now. I’ve seen many amazing members come and go, and have watched this group evolve and persevere through very dark times.”

The room was silent, and everyone listened to him very intently.

“These past few years have been amazing despite my struggle with navigating this industry’s changing landscape. Even though we continue to produce and perform stellar shows, I can tell that my time as leader is coming to a close. That is why I am deciding to retire along with Paulo and Paulamoni.”

The silence was lost, and everyone in the room let out a either a sigh or a weary expression. Ahiru could tell, however, that the members had seen this coming from the lack of surprise.

Mr. Kat continued, “Fret not. This of course does not mean an end to the Goldcrowne Troupe. That much is far from the truth,” he hit the end of his walking staff to the ground, “I will simply have to find succeeders that can properly fill these roles.” The way he eyed Mytho and Rue didn’t go unnoticed by any of the troupe. Mr. Kat dismissed everyone and exited the studio.

“I can’t believe he’s retiring…” Ahiru frowned.

“It’s sad,” Rue shrugged, “but I know that whoever succeeds him will be amazing,” she looked at Mytho with calculating eyes.

He, however, looked back at her with a slightly somber expression. He acted oblivious, before a loud ringtone played from his phone and alerted all three of them. Mytho took the device out of his pocket and stared at the screen with distaste.

“Who is it?” Both of the girls asked in unison.

He frowned, “My father.”

•••

Fakir sat in his car, unsure of what to do.

‘She’s been going to a ballet studio on Schwan’s street.’

So Ahiru had gone to the studio, and he knew exactly which one. She couldn’t come to lunch today, but she made time for the studio.

It wasn’t that he was jealous, or anything like that—and he certainly wasn’t worried that Rue was somehow “pulling her away from him”, or anything like that, like she had done with Mytho in childhood. I mean, it’s not like she was obligated to always hang out with him! Or…anything.

But, part of him wanted to know what was going on, because whatever it was, it wasn’t nothing. He wanted to just drive over to that studio and talk to her. About what? There were too many things. Or well, it was mainly two things, but he didn’t want to admit them out loud. It was insane anyway, right? What she was up to at the studio with Rue and possibly Mytho was none of his business.

Then, he noticed a particular bracelet with a little yellow duck charm attached to it laying in the passenger seat. She must’ve been fidgeting with it and clumsily left it, he thought.

Well, he might as well return it, no? He didn’t want to risk having her panic over a missing bracelet. What if it was sentimental?

Looks like he was off to the studio, oh well.

Perhaps he should forget and leave his overprotective tendency somewhere, too.

Chapter Text

MINI BONUS CHAPTER

The missing day during the lunch-break montage in chapter 7

May 11

Ahiru had curiously walked into Fakir’s office building, looking like a lost lamb that was sorely out of place in her little sanctuary uniform.

She had agreed to meet-up with Fakir at his work and walk to a nearby restaurant. He had sent her the directions—floor 3, 5th room the the right—but it didn’t help the girl feel any less lost within the traffic of busy cubicle workers. It wasn’t an environment she particularly cared for.

Nonetheless, she persevered and found her way to his room. Only after a crowded elevator ride, of course. There was a slit of paper underneath the office number that read “D.D. Journalists room 06” this must be it, she thought, and swung open the door.

“Hello!—“ she froze. There was indeed a man there, but he was not Fakir.

The bespectacled man cocked a brow at her, “Who are you?”

Ahiru could immediately sense his annoyance, “S-sorry! I was just looking for Fakir—“ she went to close the door, but he man behind a desk spoke out to her.

“Oh, he went out to make some large prints down the street. He should be back soon. You can wait here, just don’t make any noise,” and he went back to work.

She flushed in embarrassment, and very stiffly moved to sit down in one of the chairs that lined the walls. The room was silent except for the clacking of keys, and the menacing aura that the man besides her gave off.

She quickly texted Fakir, “Where are you???”

His reply was fast, “Shoot. Are you already there? Sorry, I had to step out for some prints, I’ll rush back as soon as I can.”

Ahiru looked up at the guy behind the computer, and began typing again.

“There’s also a guy here. He seems upset with me.”

“Autor’s still there!? Someone needs to find that guy a life!

Don’t talk to him. But, when you inevitably do because you’re well…YOU, then don’t let whatever snide comments he throws at you affect you. He’s not as intimidating as he likes to try to be.”

So his name was Autor.

He had glanced back suspiciously at the girl, and noticed the logo on her polo shirt. It read ‘Heart Shard Sanctuary’.

No, could she be…? Autor began to speculate the girl’s identity.

“What’s your name, anyway?” He asked while typing to appear nonchalant.

“O-oh, I’m Ahiru.” Welp, she broke the no talking rule. No going back.

The man’s eyes seemed to widen a bit behind his glasses. He turned his full attention to her, “You’re that Ahiru? The girl who works at Mytho’s sanctuary?”

She was confused by his sudden enthusiasm, “yes, I suppose…I don’t imagine many other ‘Ahiru’s’ working my same job…”

Autor began to chuckle, which only made the girl view him more strangely. Little did she know that in his mind, he had just found a jackpot of material to bully Fakir with.

“Why, you’re practically famous around here! An office-held name!”

It was her turn to cock a brow at him.

He happily continued to explain, “he talks about you. I almost didn’t believe that you were real—that it was more likely he had developed schizophrenia and hallucinated someone.”

“Wh-what?”

“Well I mean, we all know how he is—“

She cut him off and her subconscious curiosity took over for her, “What does he say…about me?”

Autor’s expression lifted into some kind of smug smirk, “Oh, excuse my manners, It’d be impolite to talk about him behind his back like that.”

Ahiru furrowed her brow and tightened her jaw. This man was certainly frustrating.

“I’m sure he talks about me behind my back too,” he scolded, slightly shaking his head.

She hummed in doubt, “Not really…Fakir’s never mentioned you until just now…”

Autor frowned, slightly insulted. Silence filled the room, and the man decided that he longer cared about what he said.

“Fakir wouldn’t say it himself, but he really enjoys hanging out with you,” Autor began as he straightened a stack of papers, “He doesn’t mention any details, he’s not one for small talk, but I can sense that he cares about you.”

Ahiru’s eyes widened in the slightest bit, and the man snorted to himself, “Of course, when I said famous around here, I meant just this room.”

She rolled her eyes, but found herself now endeared to the strange man.

•••

Fakir heard the sound of laughter emitting from his office, which was an occurrence so rare that it had never happened before. He opened the door to find Ahiru and Autor.

Was…Autor smiling? He shook his head, it must’ve been an illusion, because any trace of amusement had left his coworker’s face the moment he entered. He turned his attention to Ahiru, “Sorry I kept you waiting.”

She shook her head, “It’s alright!”

As Autor watched the two leave, he snickered to himself.

Chapter Text

May 1

2 weeks ago

The aviary was nice and quiet, as it always was. Well, spare for the few birds communicating with each other across the building. But, it proved to be nice ambience. Fakir was currently mulling over a few papers and a document on his laptop as he sat on a bench next to Ahiru. She herself had been busy repotting a few flowers. She quickly grew bored of the task, however, and found herself more interested in whatever Fakir was up to.

“So…what’s with all these papers? You seem very invested.”

He spared her a side glance as he finished typing up something. “What’s with all those empty pots?” He simply retorted.

She crossed her arms with a huff, “Just tell me.”

He sighed, yet smiled. He finished reading over what he had just typed out with satisfaction, and turned to the girl to fully engage in the conversation.

“Its a story entitled, ‘The Prince and the Raven’,” He showed the manuscript to her, “I printed out an extra copy of the text to carry around.”

Ahiru tilted her head, “What are you doing with it?”

Fakir looked at the computer screen and then back at the redhead, “I’m rewriting it. The story never got a proper ending since the author died before he could finish it, so I thought that It would be fun to go over it and see if I can end what he started.”

The girl clasped her hands together and grinned, “That sounds lovely! Can I read it?”

His jaw opened in small surprise. She had never read any of his writing before, and it was something he showed to very few people in his private life. However, when she looked him in the eyes like that, he couldn’t help but feel like he could trust her.

“…sure. I’ll send you the file for the document later, but keep in mind that it’s a work in progress.”

“Of course!” She nodded with excitement.

He exhaled a sharp breath from his nose and smirked slightly, averting his eyes back to the laptop screen.

“I should get a pair of eyes on it that hasn’t read the original, anyway.” He meant to mutter it, but she had heard.

•••

May 29

Present

The three stood silent as the cellphone rung in Mytho’s hand. He begrudgingly accepted the call from his father, who immediately began speaking.

“Are you at the studio again?”

The prince-esque man lowered the volume on his device a bit bashfully, and turned around to try and talk with his father somewhat privately.

“Yes, I am,” he replied in a semi-quiet voice.

The two girls couldn’t hear his father’s response on the other end.

“Yes, I understand, but—“

“Please listen to me, It’s important that I went today.”

“ This is why I can’t inherit the business, dad. I have to come here. They’re my family too.”

“No, It doesn’t mean you are any less important. Ballet is my passion-“

There was a long pause.

“Ok, Father. I will see you at dinner.”

He hung up, and stayed in his position for a bit, trying to calm down.

Ahiru watched him with sad eyes, “Poor Mytho, he seems so upset.”

Rue let out a long sigh, “This happens often…unfortunately.”

The redhead frowned, and Mytho walked back towards the two. When he turned, the girl saw just how sad his eyes were, and became determined.

“Sorry about that…” he attempted a chuckle.

Furrowing her brow and puffing up her chest, Ahiru took a step closer towards the dancer.

“Mytho, you should step up as the troupe leader!”

His eyes widened at her, “huh?”

•••

Fakir was currently at a light, just a street distance away from the studio. He stepped on the gas as soon as the light turned green. The ballet studio quickly came into view, and a wave of nostalgia had hit him all at once.

He hadn’t visited the studio in years, but it was where he and Mytho used to take ballet classes.

He remembered all of those weekend afternoons spent in practice, and the all of the shows that the work had amounted to. He also remembered the day when Rue had met Mytho, and all the trouble it had since caused for him. Nonetheless, they were fun memories. Nostalgia was quite a strange emotion for him; not quite happy, not quite sad. It felt as if he was visiting the grave of his now dead childhood.

After the thoughts flashed through his mind, he snapped back to reality and parked next to the sidewalk. A bout of nice cool air wafted over him as he pulled open the doors. The place hadn’t changed a bit.

He had only walked a little bit down the hall when he began to hear a conversation.

“If you do that, then maybe you can convince your dad!”

That was Ahiru, no doubt.

“It would be very difficult, especially when we’re losing the three people who make these productions possible.”

And that was Mytho.

“Yes, but those shows were also made possible by all of the crew members in that studio. I’ve witnessed their dedication, and I think you guys could do it.”

Mytho paused in thought.

“Do what?” Fakir decided to reveal himself, curious as to what was transpiring.

Everyone turned to him in surprise, but Mytho was especially shocked.

“Fakir! What are you doing here?”

The writer crossed his arms, “I can explain that later; I want to know what’s going on right here.”

Rue glanced at the two, and they had glanced at each other. Ahiru spoke up.

“Mr. Kat—along with paulo and paulamoni—is retiring. I told Mytho that I think he should step up as the next troupe leader.”

Fakir lowered his arms and lifted his brow, “What? That’s insane!”

“It’s what everyone wants!” She put a hand to her chest, “I’m just the only one who’s saying it out loud…”

He shook his head, “Mytho’s father is adamant that he inherits the business.”

“Exactly,” Ahiru took a step toward him, “My idea is that if he creates an amazing production in the position of troupe leader, then maybe he can convince his dad that this is where he truly belongs.”

Fakir also took a step closer, and slightly furrowed his brow. “It’s too risky. It would be on such short notice, and they wouldn’t have choreographers!”

Rue closed her eyes, “I’m willing to step up as lead choreographer.”

Everyone had then turned to her with surprise, and Ahiru smiled with even more determination.

She looked to Fakir, “Its possible. Plus, he has nothing to lose.”

He sighed and averted his eyes towards the floor.

She continued, “Even you still write your novels. Can you really expect him to give up ballet entirely?” Ahiru nudged her head towards the dancer.

God. What was it about her that made him admit that she was right? How could this emotional, foolish girl convince him to support the crazy? How could this girl, who only reached his shoulders in height, be even more stubborn than he was?

He gave her a single nod in defeat, “Ok, do whatever you want.”

Ahiru giggled, “it all depends on what he decides.”

The pair then turned their attention to Mytho, who was pondering his own thoughts when he noticed their joint gaze.

“Well,” he looked at them, “What would we do a show of?”

Ahiru quickly beamed with excitement, “I have an idea, actually!”

“What is it?”

She grinned, “Something never seen before. A ballet adaptation of ‘The Prince and the Raven’!”

Rue and Mytho glanced at the girl with confusion, while Fakir looked more startled than anything.

“…’The Prince and the Raven’?”

She continued, “Yup! Fakir wrote it—or well, he rewrote an old story with the same title and gave it his own ending. I’ve read all of it; it’s amazing! I think it would make a perfect ballet!”

The girl seemingly went on and on, gushing over the concept—and Fakir’s writing. Mytho, meanwhile, was surprised to learn that the girl was given access to any of the man’s manuscripts.

“She’s read your writing?” He looked at his friend.

Fakir opened his mouth but failed to respond, not wanting to confirm the truth. Mytho simply shook his head and smiled at him.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Ahiru. I will do it.”

“Perfect!” She exclaimed and turned to Fakir, “Your story is getting a ballet! Is that spectacular!?”

The girl looked as if she could burst at any second with excitement. The writer could only look back at her in awe. As he watched her, however, he felt a weird sensation in his chest. His heart was beating just a but faster.

Am I having heart palpitations? Should I see a doctor? He thought to himself.

“It’s not really my  story, per se…”

“Oh, whatever!” She elbowed him, “It’s still amazing.”

He smiled.

•••

Ahiru sat in the passenger seat of Fakir’s car. He had offered her a ride home.

”So…you never really explained why you came to the studio.”

He stopped at a red light, “Ah, right.” Fakir fished for something in the pocket of his jacket, and outstretched the hand to her, “It was to return this. You left it in my car.”

It was her little duck-charm bracelet.

”Oh! My bad,” she chuckled, sheepishly taking it from his hand, “You really drove all the way there to return a bracelet? You could have given it to me tomorrow…”

He faltered slightly, “It’s not a long drive. I was…worried that you would think it had been lost for good.”

”You could have texted me about it.”

Damn this girl and her untimely spring of knowledge. Was she always this perceptive?

He decided to simply stop responding and continue to focus on the drive. The further he drove, the more the area around them dropped in quality. Eventually, she told him to pull up near a slightly shady looking apartment complex.

”I can get home from here.”

He stopped her, “Are you sure you don’t want me to escort you? This place doesn’t seem the safest, and it’s gotten pretty late.”

”I’m good. I’m used to it.”

the girl hopped out of the car and left. He watched her walk away with concern.

•••

It wasn’t exactly her apartment complex, but she did indeed live near this area. In truth, Ahiru didn’t want Fakir to see exactly where she was staying. The conditions were even dingier, and she found the thought of him seeing that side of her to be embarrassing. It wasn’t a side of her that she particularly enjoyed, either.

Her apartment was her hell, and inside of it were things she couldn’t bare to face.

Chapter Text

Like ripping off a bandaid, Ahiru steadily opened her door. The only thing that was there to greet her was slow-creeping loneliness and paint-peeling walls. She let out an exasperated sigh, carelessly dropped her bag on the table, and collapsed onto her couch.

It’d become increasingly harder, being there.

The visits to the studio, watching all of those gifted and devoted dancers, only made it harder. Nay, impossible. Impossible to ignore the murmuring, cacophonous thoughts that drilled into the back of her mind. They beckoned her to open the box—which was in the closet, top shelf, to the right, they reminded. It was so easy to just open the box.

But at the same time, it wasn’t. She recalled the day she hid those promise-less shoes in the first place.

It was 4 years ago, when she was only 19.

•••

She had come home crying, again.

She was getting used to streaming her tears without the comfort of Ms. Edel around. She was getting used to it all too fast. The girl had thought that gaining independence would help the tears stop—but nowadays they came around all too often.

It was especially bad today. But, she wasn’t quite sure why. It wasn’t like she had been yelled at for being a failure, or condemned for being, well, her.

No, instead she had just gotten back from the hospital, back from a checkup with the nurses.

She had broken an arm and a leg around 2 months ago, and was just informed that it was only one more week until her casts could be removed.

It was happy news, wasn’t it? So, why did tears spawn from her eyes?

Maybe it was because deep down, she knew that even in a week from now—when her casts were removed—she still wouldn’t be any better. It would just happen all over again, and she would be forced to repeat and live within this destructive cycle.

She was completely, utterly, distraught. She screamed until she lost her voice, she dropped to the floor until she couldn’t get any lower, and her hope depleted until it was all gone.

Then, there were her shoes.

As she remained on the floor, drowning in her sadness, she had become eye-level with those elegant, pink shoes.

The shoes that had come with her, when she was left in a basket at the doorstep of the orphanage. Her mother’s, presumably. Presumably, the last and only thing she had of the woman.

The girl poured every last ounce of her emotions into the soles, and put them into a wooden chest.

In the closet, top shelf, to the right. That’s where she would hide them.

•••

Ahiru laid on her couch, staring at the ceiling, repeating the speech she had made to herself.

”Even you still write your novels. Can you really expect him to give up ballet forever?”

She huffed and rolled over on her side, “I’m such a hypocrite.”

Chapter Text

June 11

It was 5 o’clock in the morning.

Lights flickered on in Fakir’s apartment, and the aroma of coffee that filled the air followed soon after.

The writer had always been an early bird. It was a habit he had quickly picked up from his godfather, Charon. He always enjoyed the moment that came every morning when the sun broke the horizon. Something about witnessing the sky and everything else around it slowly wake up was oddly satisfying. It was, as he would describe, the quiet before the chaos.

Yeah, things usually went downhill after the world woke.

Lately, however, the man found himself missing a particular part of the chaos that swarmed his life. Specifically, a redheaded girl.

Ahiru recently found herself busy with a new project, and most of her free time was now spent helping out Mytho get a new production onto it’s feet. If she kept her time in a wallet, then it seemed now as if she could only spare the writer a bit of loose change. The Fakir who had existed back before January would’ve written the situation off as some simple trifle; but, the Fakir that existed now within the present was experiencing a strange void.

It was Saturday, and he decided to spend the entire day holed up at home. He resolved to sit upon his couch, laptop appropriately placed on his lap. He had probably stared at the blank document on his screen for about 10 minutes before giving up on the idea of writing. Fakir set his computer aside, and let out an exasperated sigh as he melted into the sofa and closed his eyes.

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Slowly, he reopened his eyes only to focus on the large bookshelf across from him. The writer’s eyes curiously landed on one particular book; a book he hadn’t thought to read again for years. There was good reason for that.

You see, Fakir was a man with a literature degree, a degree which he obtained from a higher-end university. Yet, despite his credentials, there was one genre that he could never quite understand.

Romance.

Being struck by Cupid’s arrow, having a fluttering heart, or getting butterflies in your stomach were all often used metaphors that the writer had never come to fully comprehend, despite being sickeningly simple. Sure, he knew what they meant , but knowing was not the same as understanding.

The particular book that his eyes landed on was one such story within the romance genre. It was a unique retelling of the classic tale ‘Cinderella’, that was set in the 1920’s. He had bought it for a course in college, but he had never read it since then, let alone finished it. However, something now attracted him to the tale, and he found enough curiosity within himself to pick it back up.

So, he spent the afternoon reading through a good chunk of the book; and, he had made a terrifying revelation when he decided to put down the story and set it on the coffee table.

Eyes wide, he realized that he now understood the metaphors. He could empathize.

Shit.

•••

Casting for the show was rough.

Mytho had been given the role of the prince, respectively.

Meanwhile, Rue was being forced to play both lead female roles, being Princess Tutu and Kraehe. They couldn’t agree on who was best to play Tutu, so it was up to Rue to fill in the character for the time being.

The Knight, however, was the last part yet to be casted.

The troupe had found that none of their male dancers could really capture the character of the knight. In fact, their best bet was Femio, and everyone agreed that couldn’t fly.

“I can’t even have Mytho fill-in for the role for now since the knight and the prince are in too many scenes together—We’re really at a loss,” Rue shook her head, a few papers sprawled around her as she sat on the stage.

Ahiru comforted her friend with a few pats on the back, “Well…I might have an idea of who could play the part, but it’s probably way too far-fetched,” she chuckled.

Rue quickly looked up at the girl, “You should have said so sooner! It doesn’t matter how far-fetched it is, I just need someone to play the knight!”

Ahiru glanced nervously to the side before leaning towards her friend to tell her the idea.

“Him!?” Rue exclaimed, “I hate that it makes sense…but why him?”

•••

Fakir sustained his position on the couch, simply staring at the ceiling, for about an hour. His epiphany was taking up a lot of mental digestion. The man couldn’t even state it within the privacy of his own mind.

He’d…fallen…

Nope, couldn’t say it.

He instead let out his 50th sigh for that evening, and turned to his side, facing the couch cushions.

There was a void that sat with him during that time. It felt as if his heart were hungry; as if his soul would starve if he didn’t digest this mental dilemma. A longing, as one could describe it. The man punched the wall of sofa cushion before him and sat up.

He had fallen in love with Ahiru.

He wanted to see her. But, before he could ponder that desire further, there was a knock at the door.

“Shit.”

•••

Ahiru had beaten him to the matter, opting to visit him herself.

She softly knocked on his apartment door—yes, she had come to know where he lived—and didn’t have to wait long before it opened to reveal the writer on the other side.

He stared at her as if was some ethereal being or mythical creature, mouth ever so slightly agape and eyes swimming in awe. She met is gaze with her own, which was characterized with light confusion, “Fakir?”

He snapped out of whatever state he had entered, and let the girl into his apartment.

•••

June 3

It turned out to be quite the unfortunate day to make plans. Ahiru wanted to sit down with Fakir and discuss his rewrite of ‘The Prince and the Raven’ so she could better come up with ways to communicate the tale through ballet. At first, they decided to go to the park, but it was too hot outside. Then, they went to the local library, only to find that it was ironically too loud due to a protest advocating to take certain controversial books off of the shelves taking place outside. Ahiru suggested a cafe next, only for the pair to find that a random festival and parade had overtaken the streets.

Fakir gave an airy chuckle, almost in disbelief of their situation. “Why don’t we just go to my place?”

“Huh?” Ahiru was a bit surprised at the notion.

“It’s close by, and I know for a fact that there won’t be some spontaneous festival to ruin the peace there.”

She giggled, and followed him to his car.

His apartment was nice, neat and well-kept. It wasn’t a sight to many, but for Ahiru, it was nice to be in such a comfortable home. She allowed herself to sit into the chair next to the sofa, manuscript in hand. Fakir took a moment to look at the girl before joining. He realized that it was the first time he’d seen her outside of her work uniform.

She wore a simple white turtleneck with yellow shorts and black tights. It was exactly what he would imagine her to wear.

The girl glanced up at him, “coming?”

•••

June 11

Ahiru entered Fakir’s apartment for the second time, the wave of comfort that hit her just as potent as he last. The place was full of his scent—that wasn’t a weird thing to notice, right?—and it fully reflected his essence. In a strange way, that was extremely comforting to her.

The girl gave him a soft smile.

Oh god, the heart palpitations were back.

She began, “I came here to ask you something…”

He closed the door, “What is it?”

Her eyes bored into him curiously, “Do you still know how to dance?”

At first he was taken aback by the question, but then he squinted his eyes at her in suspicion, “I’m not sure…why do you ask?”

She returned his scrutiny with a skeptical look of her own, before gracefully gesturing her arms in a mime that meant, ‘ I love you’.

Fakir immediately jumped at the gesture, patches of red lightly powdering his cheeks. “W-what was that for!?”

“Not sure, I saw Mytho do it during practice, what does it mean?” She knew what it meant, but purposely wanted to get a rise out of him.

He calmed slightly, “It..it means ‘i love you’”

Ahiru smiled softly at him, “See? You still know a few things.”

Fakir grunted, she had got him. “Go on,” he put a hand to his face.

“We’ve been having trouble casting—“ she began, taking a quick breath before nervously peering up at him, “and we still need someone to play the part of the knight.”

The writer looked at her, eyebrows slightly furrowed, “Ahiru…”

“Can you please play the part of the knight!? You’d be perfect for the role!” She clasped her hands pleadingly.

He huffed out a sharp sigh, seriously, what else could this girl get him to do? Then, he thought about what the favor entailed. He would have to brush up on ballet to get it back into his system, he would have to attend various rehearsals, he would have to perform— but, it also meant that he would spend more time with Ahiru. Jeez, when did that become a priority? Had he become such a fool?

He turned back to face her, and she was still looking at him like a sad little puppy. God was definitely playing with him.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, Fakir! I owe you one for sure!” She wore the biggest grin he had ever seen. Did this really bring her so much joy?

He fidgeted with his shirt collar, “You don’t have to owe me anything, really. That’s what friends are for…or some bullshit…right?”

Ahiru giggled, “wow, friendship status!”

The journalist knew she was joking, but he still mentally kicked himself.

Did he really just put himself in the friendzone?

Chapter Text

July 2

Crafting a ballet was no easy process.

Ahiru was still reading and re-reading the story to come up with ways to adapt every detail onto the stage. It meant consulting the set designers, costume designers, prop artists, ect. Rue, meanwhile, was beginning to test out some of the routines she choreographed with a few of the ensemble members. Mytho’s job, however, had been the hardest to adjust to. He was still trying to settle into the leader position, learning how to manage many different people and projects simultaneously.

Thankfully, Mr. Kat was still around to help out and guide the boy, but he wasn’t going to stay for much longer. He made a point to remind Mytho of that. There was only a few days left until Mr. Kat’a official retirement, and after that came, Mytho would be left to his own devices.

Fakir would offer to help, but he was already drowning in all of the ballet lessons being forced upon him to help regain his old muscle memory. He heard the sound of giggling behind him, and in the mirror that lined the studio’s wall, he could see the reflection of a familiarly freckled girl. The writer turned around to face her, wearing a less-than-enthusiastic expression.

“What’s so amusing?” He watched her quizzically, as she tried to hold in her mirth.

“Nothing—“ she glanced away, “you’re just much more approachable in tights.

He looked down at himself. He couldn’t lie, they were goddamn comfortable, but he also felt a sense of slight embarrassment. Then, Fakir noticed that the girl was holding something behind her back.

“What do you have there?” He pointed.

She beamed, “I’m glad you asked! Ive got the prototype for your costume!” Ahiru held it up for him to see.

It was a brightly colored costume with eccentric patterns and bells.

“Absolutely not. You can’t laugh at me for wearing tights and then expect me to wear…that.”

Ahiru guffawed, “Just kidding! This is the jester’s costume,” she pointed to one of the corners of the room where Hermia and a few other people stood by a whiteboard, “your costume is still in the ‘first draft’ stage.”

“Nice, the clown gets a costume before I do,” Fakir crossed his arms, “Did you just come over here to disrupt my practice?”

She nodded, and he deflated. It was hard to hide the small smile creeping onto his face.

“I needed a little distraction from all the work,” she shrugged.

He stared at her, recalling something.

“Definitely don’t overwork yourself, Ahiru. I heard from Pique a little while ago that before this you used to work like, what was it, 6-7 hours of overtime per day? You need to make sure you have enough time to yourself.”

He watched as the girl before him shrunk into herself, almost distraught to have found out what he knew.

“I…I understand.” She gave him a curt nod, and began walking towards Freya and a few other set designers.

Fakir felt something in his heart shatter.

•••

“I want to know why you pegged me as the character kraehe, Ahiru,” Said Rue, curiously, as she sat up on the small practice stage in the studio.

Ahiru had been reading the story of ‘The Prince and the Raven’ to Rue in chunks every afternoon, so she could better understand what to choreograph. They were now approaching the end of the tale.

“She’s elegant and graceful—plus, she gets the prince at the end,” The redhead winked.

“Ahiru, spoilers!” Rue half-heartedly scolded the girl, but smiled. “You’re very kind…and perceptive, too. Unlike a few people.” The woman looked across the room at Mytho.

Her face quickly became red, “Oh, it’s n-nothing, really!” She frantically waved her hands around.

The prima donna turned back at the bashful girl, and analyzed her for a bit. “You would make a pretty good Tutu, Ahiru. I don’t suppose you could be hiding any dance moves, hm? I desperately need someone to take up the part,” she half-joked.

The girl, however, had an unreadable expression on her face. Her mouth was ajar, and her eyes appeared distant, like she had just seen a ghost. “I…I don’t—I can’t dance,” she tittered, “…unfortunately.”

Rue shot her a strange look, but decided not to question it.

Ahiru went to change the subject, not wanting the awkwardness she created to last a second longer.  “You know, Rue, maybe you should tell Mytho how you feel straight on.”

She glanced away at nothing and gave the girl a wry smile, “Trust me, I have.”

“You have!?”

“I have,” the woman sighed, “I am very active about my love. But, even though he’s never actually rejected me in anyway, he’s never properly reciprocated either.”

“Oh, I see…” she frowned, “I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

Rue tilted her head, “You haven’t ever had any troubles with romance, Ahiru?”

“Er…well…” she chuckled and avoided her gaze.

“Have you ever been in love!?” Rue prodded, aghast.

Ahiru froze, “Have I…ever been in love?”

She thought carefully for a moment, before continuing. “There was a time, years ago, where I thought I was,” her eyes flittered across the studio, but her gaze faded before Rue could follow it, “but I realized that it was a different type of love. Admiration and care. I just want to see him smile.”

“You’re a very interesting girl, Ahiru.”

She smiled, “I didn’t really answer your question though.”

Rue’s eyebrows rose in interest, “Oh? So there is a little someone?”

“N-no!” Ahiru hugged her legs to her chest, and buried her face into her knees, “But my friends keep teasing me about it.”

“Tell me about them,” the ballerina rested her chin in the palm of her hand, and wore a smirk as she leaned in closer towards the girl.

Ahiru looked her up and down, not sure what the purpose of describing him would be. She tried her best to not include any details that would give away his identity, “We’ve become pretty close within the past few months. He acts aloof, but has a kind heart. He’s very passionate about what he does, and is extremely creative,” she beamed, “we tend to bicker from time to time, but we’re really good friends.”

Rue grimaced, “Oh god, Ahiru, don’t tell me it’s Fakir.”

“How did you know?” Her head shot up, “wait, what’s wrong with Fakir?”

The woman groaned and put a hand to her head, “because it seems to me that you love that grumpy bastard.”

Ahiru’s face fell in an instant, but she just as quickly shook her head and gave an odd giggle, “That’s silly Rue! I love your sense of humor!” She stood and looked at the studio’s entrance, “Oh my! Autor arrived, I have to go meet with him now, it’s been nice talking to you!”

The redhead took off, and Rue simply shook her head.

“She’s in denial.”

•••

“Autor, what are you doing here?” Fakir crossed his arms, an intense glare painted his features.

The pompous man began with a scoff, but was quickly cut off by approaching footsteps followed by an enthusiastic greeting.

“Autor! Thanks for coming!”

The two men turned their attention to the short, spunky girl.

“Ahiru?” Fakir lifted a brow in confusion.

“Ahiru!” Autor met her enthusiasm with a handshake.

They began to chat about something, and Fakir simply shook his head. He waved his hands to cease their conversation, and glanced between them.

“What’s going on?” He looked to Ahiru, “why is he here?”

She grinned, “Autor’s dropping off some sheet music for the other musicians, and he also came to see the Studio’s piano.”

“And when did you guys become friends?” He questioned further.

Autor spoke up to provide more details, “She asked me to help compose some music for the ballet, and since im a generous soul, I agreed.”

Ahiru leaned in towards Fakir and whispered, “ We’re bar buddies!”

He whispered back, “Yeah, you’re going to need to explain that to me more later.”

A small snicker emitted from Autor, which caused Fakir to scowl at him.

“What?” He frowned.

“Nothing,” he sneered, “nice tights.”

Fakir grunted and rolled his eyes before walking away, leaving Ahiru and Autor to discuss music or whatever they were up to.

Unfortunately, he found himself wandering near the small stage, which was occupied by Rue who remained neatly sitting upon the ledge.

Her ruby eyes appeared to be analyzing him, but she didn’t wear her usual scheming smirk.

“What are you looking at, Rue?” He was tired of today.

Ah, there was her signature smirk.

She Jutted her head to point in Ahiru’s direction, “she’s a real interesting personality, isn’t she? If I weren’t so set on Mytho, I’d go after her. You might want to capitalize on that.”

He was seriously tired. “I will skin you alive someday. That’s no empty threat.”

“Ooh, repeat that, I should get it in writing so they have evidence against you in your inevitable court case, you psycho.” She was a mature woman far past the days of sticking her tongue out at people, but she couldn’t deny that she wanted to do it in that moment.

“Too bad you can’t get this in writing,” He stuck his tongue out—He’d begun adopting some of Ahiru’s personality—and flipped her the bird before walking away.

Rue looked to the ceiling, “Why does it have to be him?”

Chapter Text

EXTRA: Bar Buddies!

July 7

Well, he did ask her to explain her why Autor was her “bar buddy” in more detail, but he definitely wasn’t expecting a whole field trip.

“ While I waited for you in the office that day, Autor and I talked and found out that we actually frequent the same bar! He usually sits in the back inside a booth, though, so I never saw him,” Ahiru explained on their way there.

Although each new piece of information she provided did add to the story, it still caused Fakir to cock a brow at her with skepticism. “Maybe I’ve read you all wrong, but you don’t really seem like the type to person to go to a bar. Nonetheless be a regular  there.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “I mainly go for the food.”

“That’s what restaurants are for, Ahiru.”

They had arrived at the entrance and she shook her head, “Just wait till you meet Ebine!”

The redhead slammed the door open with no regards to the wall that it would hit, and jauntily marched into the place. “Hey Ebine! You’ll be happy to see who brought with me,” she practically sang.

The entrance immediately led to the beginning of the bar’s long counter where Ebine mixed and served drinks. “Oh, who is it?” The stout woman attempted to peer at the girl from over her shoulder as she put away a few glasses on a high shelf, but couldn’t get a good look at the newly entered customers.

“Ugh, so you really did  bring him today?” Autor sat up, and Fakir could see that he was already sat at one of the high-stools. It had finally settled in for Fakir that the two really were “bar buddies”, but it still didn’t make the fact any less strange to him.

Ebine finished putting away the clean glasses and turned around see who Ahiru had brought along with her. The woman studied the man’s features for only a moment before immediately grinning.

”Oh my! You must be Fakir, aren’t you? Dear Ahiru has told me a lot about you, young man. I’ve been telling her to bring you here for weeks!” The woman brought him in for a giant handshake and side hug. She was definitely friendly, and very talkative. The writer was beginning to understand why Ahiru enjoyed the bartender’s company so much.

“It’s nice to meet you…Ebine,” Fakir managed, trying his best to be polite for Ahiru’s sake. It probably wouldn’t be best to exercise his usual attitude.

As the woman continued to berate the man with various questions, Ahiru went to go sit besides Autor.

“You’re coming to the test rehearsal next week, right?”

He gave her a nod, “I have to make sure the stuff I’ve composed so far fits together with everything, I couldn’t miss it. Besides, you guys still need a pianist, don’t you?”

She hummed in confirmation, “The usual guy is still out, so—“ her attention briefly switched over to Ebine’s prodding at Fakir, and she gave Autor an amused look, “Perhaps we should save him.” 

The musician shrugged, “I was enjoying it, but sure.” He tapped his cup on the counter as to grab Ebine’s attention.

”Can I get a refill?”

Ahiru chimed in with her own order, “I want some fries as well!”

The woman behind the counter stepped away from Fakir, and immediately went to fulfill the two’s requests. 

“That’ll keep her busy,” Ahiru softly giggled.

Autor looked up at his coworker and gestured for him to sit, “You’re free.”

Fakir gave him a strange look, that both expressed slight gratitude and confusion. He took his seat next to Ahiru, nonetheless.

•••

He hated to say it, but the night had ended up being pretty fun. Not to mention, the food was actually as good as Ahiru had claimed.

”I have to say, Autor, that piece you wrote for Kraehe’s first solo is absolutely gorgeous! I was almost brought to tears!” The redhead dramatically pressed a hand to her heart.

Fakir scoffed, “You tear up at nearly everything.”

Ahiru was readying a rebuttal, but Autor spoke up first. “I just found Rue’s image of Kraehe to be very…inspiring.” The writer across from him wanted to say that he saw a small dusting of pink cover his coworker’s cheeks, but the lights were too dim to tell.

”Ah, that makes sense!” Ahiru remarked, “I can’t wait to hear what you come up with in regards to Princess Tutu!” 

the pianist looked thoughtful for a moment, “Well, I know Rue won’t standing-in for that role for forever, and that they haven’t really locked down a person to play her yet, so it’s hard to get a feel for the character. The way the dancer that ends up playing her moves will have a great impact on the way I will write the music.” 

“Oh, I see…” Ahiru poked at the straw in her glass, “But you were able to get down some ideas for her introduction in act. 1, right? Did you just use the story for inspiration?”

He raised his eyes at her, “Actually…I partly used you for inspiration. You’re kind of how I imagine what Princess Tutu would be like—minus the gracefulness.”

The last bit of his comment earned him a poorly hidden glare from Fakir. Ahiru, however, wore a slightly surprised expression.

”Strange, Rue said something like that too…”

Chapter Text

Once upon a time, there was a girl born into tragedy. She was fated to never dance or be happy, but she worked endless hours each day to see her dreams become reality. Her mother, teachers, and sisters were all cruel to the girl, but one day, she got the opportunity to attend the royal ball. There the girl danced with the prince, and was happy. However, her happiness quickly faded into mere dreams as she succumbed to her fate. In the end, she ran away from the ball, leaving a single shoe.

This is the story of Cinderella.

July 15

The past few days had been a little chaotic.

The troupe planned to rent out the community theatre on Sunday for their first test rehearsal. They had finished drafting up all of ACT. 1—excluding a few scenes that included Tutu—and many preparations had to be made in the days leading up to it. Ahiru had watched costume designers break a sweat while sewing, prop designers work until wee hours of the night, and dancers practice until they couldn’t feel their legs. Not to mention that she couldn’t count how many times Autor had called her during a manic creative episode. She couldn’t imagine how Mytho felt under all the pressure, because she was definitely feeling the weight.

The birds outside started to sing, alerting a sleepy Ahiru that it was morning. She was always slow to get up at the beginning of the day, but she was always awake by the time the sunbeams hit her face. When she realized what day it was, the girl quickly shot up from her position and went to hastily get ready.

Ahiru slapped on a white blouse and a long yellow skirt, made quick work of braiding her hair and brushing her teeth, and headed out of the door with her bag in hand.

Meanwhile, Fakir had already arrived at the studio to get some early practice in, making sure he was the first and only one there. He enjoyed the quiet that came with being alone, since it allowed him to focus more. It was going to be a long rehearsal, and he didn’t wish to prolong it by screwing up a bunch.

He could’ve sworn he heard the building’s doors swing open, but no footsteps accompanied it. Fakir assumed he had imagined the sound, shrugged it off, and returned to going over his routine.

Ahiru quietly went down the hall only to hear the sound of music playing in the distance. Wondering who it was, but not wanting to disrupt their practice, she only peaked her head through the entrance.

It was Fakir.

He was practicing the part in which the knight is lost within a clouded forest. The music was slow and somber, and his movements perfectly mimicked each spine-tingling note. Despite being able to tell that there were many years of neglected practice that impaired his skill, it was still mesmerizing to watch him perform through a few trembles. There were raw, rose-thorn like emotions that he was able to display through the medium, and it was a side of him that Ahiru wasn’t sure she had ever seen.

He finished, and she was there to clap for him.

Fakir jumped slightly like a startled dog and took a guarded position before seeing Ahiru at the entrance. “How long have you been there?” He sighed in relief, and eyed her curiously.

“Only a minute,” she stepped into the studio, “that was beautiful, by the way.” The redhead gave a him bright smile.

He shook his head, “I’m still rusty.”

She chirped, “I can tell. It’s even more amazing that you can pick it back up after long time.” Her gaze shifted to nowhere specific, and it appeared as if she were reminiscing something sad. Fakir gave the expression a considering glance, to which Ahiru had noticed her small daze. Quickly, she shifted the topic.

“How come no one else is here? I rushed over; I thought I was late!” The girl jolted as she looked around the studio.

”Ahiru—it’s only 6 AM.”

Her jaw dropped, in that classic Ahiru fashion. “I set my alarm wrong.”

Fakir let out a low and short chuckle at her simple mistake, a reaction she had grown to expect from him. 

Ahiru averted her attention to set down her bag and unpack a few things. She had been filled with a strange sense of inspiration after witnessing the performance, and thought she might as well use it to fuel her motivations.

“What do you have there?” Fakir questioned, watching the girl take out equipment from her bag.

She held up her items for him, “Just a tripod, camera, and a layout of the show on these papers. Since Mytho will be performing in the rehearsal, I’m going to help direct what parts to go over during it and record everything for him to look over later.”

“You’re really doing a lot to help him out,” he crouched down besides her, as she tried to assemble the tripod.

“I really want to see this show succeed. Plus, his whole ballet career is depending on this. I don’t want to see anyone have to give up their passions,” she clutched the equipment harder.

Fakir nodded slightly, “I understand how you feel, especially since Mytho is my best friend. But you’ve practically been running around and managing every part of this production. You aren’t obligated to push yourself that hard.”

“I enjoy the work, even though its a lot,” she giggled, “and Mytho’s my friend too.”

The two talked as they waited for more people to arrive at the studio. Troupe members made sure to get some practice in, and a few things needed to be picked up and brought to the theatre. Ahiru helped move some props that had been stored in the studio in the van.

“You’re…surprisingly strong, Ahiru.” Fakir commented, as he helped her carry a particularly large box.

She tittered, “Well, I think I’ve exhausted all of my strength for now, but I do work out a lot…”

The nervousness in Ahiru’s laughter, however, was a little strange. It wasn’t based on being humble, but sounded rather guarded. That fact wasn’t lost on Fakir.

After they had loaded the box into the van, Ahiru was called over by Rue, who was peaking out from the Studio’s main doors. She held the girl’s camera in hand.

“You should start to pack this stuff back up in your bag.”

“Actually…” Ahiru took the device from Rue, “Do you know how to use this? I kind of haven’t figured it out yet…”

The dancer sharply exhaled from her nose and smiled at the girl as she shook her head. Immediately, Rue began to instruct her on all of the device’s basic functions.

“Ahiru, what are you doing?” Fakir eyed the girl curiously as she brought the camera to his face.

She filmed him as he tried to figure a way to fit everything into the van, “Just say hi to the camera!”

For a split second he glared into the lens, and then look back up at her, “no.”

“Please?” She pleaded, “At least wave…”

He gave the girl a blank stare before lifting his hand, “I’ll wave the camera goodbye, how about that?”

Ahiru frowned, but nodded, “whatever…grumpy pants.”

Fakir rolled his eyes, before softly smiling at the camera and gently waving.

•••

“I think you guys should do that again one more time!”

Ahiru wasn’t really the assertive type, but here, she had to be. Everyone ran through the entire first act without any interruptions, and she had recorded it all. Now, it was time for them to adjust and work on scenes that they felt needed the polish. As the dancers began to redo the section, Ahiru continued to record.

Hours passed by quickly, and the sky grew darker. Finally, Mytho decided to call for break time since the conductor wanted to change a few things.

As the musicians went about making a few adjustments to their arrangement within the pit, Ahiru climbed out of her seat in the audience and went up the ramp to the theatre’s exit. She let out a sigh as she pressed her back against the venue’s doors. Footsteps that were climbing up the stairs could be heard, and the sound was soon followed by the sight of Fakir rising into view.

“Fakir! The band is making a few adjustments right now, but your part with the ensemble is after.”

He nodded, “Yeah, I went to grab some water and they told me to come back soon since I was up next.”

“I see—“ Ahiru’s attention was suddenly grabbed by the sound of a few start-up notes by the band, “Sounds like they’ve worked things out?”

A solo violin could be faintly heard on the other side of the door, and they carried the rest of the group into a waltz. It was a short piece created for the Prince’s first encounter with Princess Tutu, but to Ahiru’s knowledge, they weren’t rehearsing those scenes today. Perhaps they were simply using it to test out their new seating arrangement.

“Would you like to dance?”

Suddenly and unexpectedly, Fakir took a hold of Ahiru’s hand, and lifted it up. She looked at him with pure bewilderment as he proceeded to take her other hand and place it upon his shoulder, and place his own free hand around her waist. Like this, he guided her into a waltz. The second they began to move, Ahiru’s heart skipped a beat before starting back up at a faster pace.

It began slow and clumsily. Ahiru didn’t know how to waltz, of course, so they instead swayed to the music.

“What’s gotten into you all of the sudden?”

Fakir let out an airy chuckle, “What do you mean?”

“Forgive me, but you don’t seem like the type of guy to randomly pull girls into dances.”

He smiled, “I don’t, do I?” The writer began to lead her into a proper waltz, which she found difficult to keep up at first. However, he took it slow and was patient with the girl, and she eventually fell into a proper pace. She wasn’t very graceful, but by the look on her face, she was having fun.

“You’re right, I’m not that type of guy. But then again, you’re not a random girl either.” He held his breath, “I only want to dance with a particularly silly, redheaded one.”

“Silly?” She would retort more, but part of her sensed that there was more to the statement.

He shook his head, “I’m the silly one, actually.”

Fakir continued, “I must be, because…I like you. There really is no way to say this without feeling awkward—“ he chuckled, “but, there’s something about you that makes me understand all those equally silly metaphors about loving someone that I read growing up, and even still, I feel stronger for it.”

“Fakir…” she was speechless, and then the two came to a halt.

“I really, really like you, Ahiru. I say that with all of my sincerity. You don’t have to say anything back.”

The girl stared at him with owl eyes, and for some reason, it only drew out more words from him, if only to fill the suffocating quiet.

“But…if you would ever want to hang out, like on a date, or something, I would like to know…”

Ahiru’s entire posture softened, the awe finally wearing off. She smiled, “I…I think I would like that, yeah.”

Fakir’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and for a few seconds, everything was dead silent. Then, the waltz playing in the background resumed, only this time dropping in tempo, and entering a more graceful tone. From entrée to adagio, it was now Ahiru’s turn to guide Fakir into a dance.

She had seen Mytho and Rue practice the Pas de deux between Princess Tutu and Siegfried many times, and she was sure Fakir had seen them too. The dance was very similar to one she had performed before, and the moves came to the girl on instinct.

She started in first position, before transitioning croisé, and then into a series of moves on demi-pointe. Fakir almost instantly recognized the dance that the redhead started, and began to support her as they completed a promenade. Her movements were quite skillful, and nearly professional. The writer watched the girl’s precision in awe, as he helped support her for a pirouette. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw her do an arabesque with high flexibility, and was doubly surprised to see her do an assemble despite some sort of hesitation. The dance was trance-like, and before he knew it, he was lifting her with all the trust she allocated.

He put her down—not for a second breaking eye contact, “You…can dance.”

Ahiru’s eyes widened in fear, as if she hadn’t realized what she had been doing. She liften a hand to her mouth in shock, “I-I have to go…”

The girl quickly scampered back into the theatre and grabbed her bag, leaving behind the camera. Fakir could only follow her and watch as she hastily packed her things.

“Ahiru…”

“Fakir, tell Mytho that all of the rehearsal footage is on that camera. I have to go.”

She was on her feet again, only after giving him one last thoughtful glance. “Ahiru!” He watched her exit the theatre, unsure of what to do. Every bone in his body wanted to follow her, find out what could possibly be troubling the girl, but resisted the urge. She wasn’t ready for confrontation.

Unlike Cinderella, she failed to leave a shoe behind. She did, however, leave behind with him a secret.

Chapter Text

Why did she do that?

Why did she do any of it, really? Running away like that.

Leaving him behind.

Surrounding herself with dancers.

Visiting The studio.

Deciding to let herself venture outside of the aviary, and venturing back into her old world.

A world that left her in pieces, mind you.

What she found to be the most curious decision of all, however, was the fact that out of all the places she could’ve ran to, she ran to her apartment. Tears forming into her eyes, the memory of the past beginning to consume her.

She had run to her apartment. The place she avoided most.

The second the girl had entered the door, a line of directions repeated themselves within her head.

In the closet, top shelf, to the right

In the closet, top shelf, to the right

In the closet, top shelf, to the right

“Enough!” She yelled to no one but her own all-consuming thoughts.

“Enough…” the girl repeated, hugging her arms.

She remembered his touch across her waist as he supported her during their Pas de Deux. She remembered the warmth and pride that swelled in her heart when she still knew how to do an assemblé without falling. She couldn’t forget the look of awe in Fakir’s face, upon realizing her ability.

They say curiosity killed the cat.

Ahiru found herself now following a particular set of directions.

She opened the closet.

Grabbed a stool to reach the top shelf.

And, to the right—ah, there it was.

A small, cherry wood chest, that had an intricate design carved onto the top of it, a red gem imbedded into the center of it.

Nearly two decades worth of pent-up emotions had been stored within the little box, only beckoning to be released. They were dark and vicious, like some monstrous raven that had been sealed away.

Yet, in the end, even if it had taken her four years, she opened it.

Inside were a pair of pink pointe-shoes.

Chapter Text

July 16

Ahiru hadn’t shown up to the studio today.

That’s what he had heard from Mytho and Rue, at least.

Needless to say, Fakir was very concerned. No one else knew what happened to the girl after she left the rehearsal, and the writer found that the only thing he could do was send a few worry-filled texts her way.

He couldn’t help but to wonder why, and couldn’t he couldn’t help but to ponder what. Why did she keep such an innocent secret? What could he have done to stop her from running off?

Fakir kept a clutched fist and clenched teeth as he continued to write more useless articles. His stiffness, however, did not go unnoticed by his coworker, Autor.

“Are you alright? You seem even more agitated than usual.”

He simply scoffed, “And you care?”

The bespectacled man pushed up his glasses some, “Am I not allowed to be concerned?”

Fakir glared at him, “You’re not really the type to.”

“Just tell me what’s wrong already. Don’t deflect your ordeal by focusing on my own idiosyncrasies.”

There was heavy sigh, but then, acceptance. “Fine. It’s…Ahiru. I’ve been worried about her ever since she abruptly left rehearsal last night. She isn’t responding to my texts, and she seemed pretty upset about something when she went.”

In a rare moment of genuine consideration, Autor’s eyebrows slightly furrowed with concern, “You don’t where she lives?”

Fakir simply shook his head.

“Imbecile! You, of all people, should know her address.”

A bit of anxiety had risen in the writer’s chest, which had eventually leaked out of his voice in the form of temper, “I didn’t know! I…don’t know! I…I don’t know why she ran—or what I could’ve done.”

Fakir was a wreck. He leaned back in his chair, distraught, as he blamed himself for what had occurred.

“Beating yourself up over it won’t do anything. You have to trust that Ahiru will open herself up to you when she is ready.”

Autor already returned to his typing when Fakir had lifted his head up. It was actually solid advice, he thought. The writer closed his eyes then, to meditate on the idea, opening them only when he knew for sure that he could trust Ahiru to come to him for support when she needed to.

Light came into his sight as he slowly peered open his eyelids, and it was right then that he saw a notification that the particular girl had responded to him.

He immediately went to read the message.

‘I’m really sorry for running out like that last night…especially after all of that…

Anyways, if you have the time after work, I would like to have dinner with you. There are things that I need to tell you. Thank you for checking in on me :) <3’

Relief washed over Fakir, only to leave a few remaining anxieties hanging within the shores of his mind. He could only hope that the “things” she wanted to discuss didn’t contain any bad or worrisome news. He smiled at her optimism, however, and her text heart made his own real heart flutter.

The rest of his shift ran slow, as he waited for the meet-up time to approach.

•••

“I didn’t realize how painful the memory of dance had become for me, until I had done it myself.”

He wanted to ask her so many things, but had waited until she was ready to speak. When she began, he listened to every word intently, but was soon caught off guard when she called his name.

“Fakir, I am going to tell you some stuff that’s very personal, and I want you to be selfish while considering what I’m about to say.”

Confusion flashed across his face, “Selfish?”

She stared at him, almost pleadingly, and continued to speak.

“I used to do ballet a lot, years ago. However, I gave up on my dreams of becoming a ballerina after I entered college.”

After that, she paused for a while, slowly picking at the vegetables on her plate.

“Why?” Fakir couldn’t help his curiosity.

There was the sound of a clank on the table as she put down her fork, looking up at him in earnest. It was clear that something was weighing on her.

“I have Osteogenesis imperfecta. It’s also called brittle bones disease. It’s why I had that cast when you first met me, and why I was insecure when you noticed my blue sclera. It’s also the reason I might tend to overcompensate; I feel like a burden since I break easier, so instead I try to do as much as I can. Though, when it came to ballet, I had reached the point where I felt like I couldn’t keep up.”

”couldn’t keep up?”

”Every fall was a fear. Every fall was another fracture, which meant more time spent bundled up in bandaids rather than precious practice. Which meant being yelled at for not performing perfectly.”

She chewed on a fork-full of food, stature slightly lifting as she reassured herself.

“But I want to try again. I want to dance ballet!”

Fakir was in utter awe at the girl before him, who carried the flame of determination in her eyes.

“I—“

She interrupted him with a confession, “It’s partly because of you, Fakir, that I made this decision. Every time I talked to you, I could feel myself become stronger. I began to realize the things I wanted more and more, and it’s because your words reach me.”

His eyes widened, and his pupils darted around trying to decipher her’s.

“You’re important to me Fakir, Extremely so…” her expression faltered, “I remember what you had asked me before I ran off, and I remember my response. I asked you to be selfish today, because I want you to be able to decide whether or not you can really live when being with someone like me. I’m aware with the burden I come with.”

Fakir’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion, “You’re not a burden, Ahiru. I’ve already chosen to love you.”

It was a strong word, love. Its power only proven when Ahiru was made speechless because of it.

But she smiled.

“I want to show you something at my apartment.”

Chapter Text

“These were my mother’s shoes.”

Ahiru had taken him to her apartment. It was smaller than he could’ve imagined, and the girl seemed to fit it like a bird in a nest. It was certainly as cluttered as one. Fakir could understand her previous hesitation in showing him around now.

The two were sat on the sofa, huddling over a small, opened chest. Inside were a pair of pristinely kept pointe-shoes.

“They were…also the last pair of pointe-shoes I danced in.”

Fakir hovered a hand over the satin ribbons, as to silently ask for permission to touch them.  Ahiru gestured her hand in approval, allowing for the writer to pick up some of the silky fabric. Running his fingers through the ribbon, he could tell that they had been left untouched for quite some time.

“They’re beautiful.”

Ahiru gave him a sentimental smile, “Yeah. I was afraid that I couldn’t live up to how my mom made them look on the stage, but I want to try again. I want to do these shoes justice.”

Fakir shifted his gaze from the ribbon to the girl, looking back at her wishful-blue eyes. He picked up his hand as well, gently overlapping it on top of Ahiru’s own.

“You definitely will,” he chuckled out softly.

For a moment, the constant drumming of Ahiru’s little heart came to a halt, as the quiet notes of Fakir’s laugh entered her ears. The warmth of his hand on top of hers radiated up to her face in the form of a small blush.

“So, we’re dating, aren’t we?” she seemed to say out-loud.

In unison, the pair began to laugh a little bashfully at one another, turning a slight shade of red at the thought.

“If that’s the case,” Fakir shifted, “then there’s people I want you to meet.”

Ahiru’s brows lifted, “Really?”

He tightened his hold on her hand with a nod, “People very important to me.”

“Oh, wow,” she considered, “Now I kinda wish my dingy, little apartment could have been a bit more impressive!” A light chuckle emitted from Ahiru, but there was a hint of sadness in her tone, causing Fakir to look at her carefully.

“It was,” he stated simply, “these were inside.” The writer gestured to the pale, pink shoes before them.

Without knowing, Ahiru’s hand took a hold of Fakir’s from under it, interlocking their fingers.

Turned towards the girl, yet not quite making eye contact, Fakir near-whispered, “I want to show you my family.”

“I want to meet them,” Ahiru smiled.

•••

July 17

They’d spent the rest of the night at Ahiru’s apartment. Fakir slept over, opting for the couch—he’s a gentleman, after all—and waking up early as usual to make some coffee.

Ahiru groggily woke up to the strong aroma, not exactly used to being up at 5:30 AM. Catching her last snore, she slowly rolled out bed. Surely her hair was a mess all let out of it’s braid, but it was no matter for the girl. All she could focus on at the moment was investigating the fresh scent.

“Good mornin’,” Ahiru yawned out, patting down some stray folds in her night gown as she pattered across the floor in her fluffy yellow slippers.

Fakir couldn’t stifle his amused smile as the girl entered the kitchen. “Nice hairstyle,” he teased.

“I’ll brush it later…” the girl pouted as she was handed a mug.

“I figured you liked your coffee with lots of cream and sugar.”

“Well…you’re not wrong,” she took a sip, “this would go really nicely with some toast! I can make some—“

“Actually, we’re going to go have breakfast at my father’s place. If that’s ok with you, of course.”

“Oh!” Ahiru stopped in her tracks, “Of course…it sounds lovely.”

She was excited, of course she was excited—but for some inexplicable reason, the girl found that a pit of anxiety had planted itself within her stomach. Maybe she did actually find it too soon for a meeting? But, after seeing that poorly hidden smile beaming from Fakir in reaction, she couldn’t bring herself to go back on what she had already said.

Ahiru would just have to swallow some of that anxiety, along with her last sip of coffee.

“Ready to go?”

Not really, but, “Yup!”

The drive, for Ahiru, felt more akin to a rollercoaster. There were moments she felt enthusiastic about the venture, almost unable to wait for their arrival at the destination. Other moments, like when they passed by a few neighborhoods, that pit inside her stomach seemed to reconfirm its painful existence. But what was she afraid of? Rejection? Not being “good enough”?

It wasn’t a fear that someone who’s just beginning to chase their dreams again should feel.

She shook away her nerves and tried to think with the utmost optimism. However, just as she began to calm down, they pulled up to the drive way.

Here she goes.

“Charon?” Fakir called out with a knock.

Ahiru stepped back as she heard the knob begin to twist. A tall, grey-haired man was revealed to be behind the door as it was swung open.

He had a gruff exterior, but possessed kind eyes and a hearty laugh. “I must say my boy, I was surprised when you called to come over for breakfast last night!”

“You say that as if I never come to visit.”

The man continued his airy chuckle, but stopped once his eyes landed on the figure behind his son.

“Who’s this little bell?”

Something swelled inside of Fakir’s chest, but he didn’t let it show. With a breath, he began the introductions.

“This is Ahiru,” he paused, “my—well, we’re dating.”

As Fakir internally reeled from his embarrassment, Ahiru offered up a small little wave.

“Why,” The man gave out his hand with a grin, “I’m Charon.”

Sheepishly, the girl shook Charon’s hand. He truly has a gentle soul.

“Please come inside,” he shifted, “I didn’t think I’d be having such an esteemed guest over today. Raetsel’s going to be all over you!”

Ahiru softly jabbed Fakir with her elbow and whispered, “Who’s Raetsel?”

“Fakir! Come here and help cut the fruit!” A lady’s voice called across the house.

“That would be her,” Fakir sighed.

Ahiru closely followed behind the writer as he made his way to the kitchen, where a woman with long, brown hair and tanned skin was frying some eggs.

“Just some strawberries and bananas would be fine!” She commanded, eyes still watching the stove.

“Sure.”

Ahiru felt a bit awkward just standing there, and figured it’d be better to lend a hand. “Anything I can do to help?”

The woman turned her head in surprise, not expecting to hear an unfamiliar voice.

“Forgive me, but, who might you be?” She asked with a welcoming smile.

“I’m Ahiru,” the girl greeted, nervously shaking the back of her head.

“They’re dating!” Charon interjected from the dining room table, almost causing Fakir to cut his finger instead of the strawberry.

The woman’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, and as she watched the young girl’s face heat up in front of her, she giggled. “Well, it’s surely a treat to meet you then, Ahiru. I’m Raetsel, Fakir’s sister.”

“You can help me prepare some toast.”

Perhaps everything would be alright, Ahiru thought.

•••

“You want to become a ballerina?”

The four of them were sat in the dining room, enjoying the feast of food they had all made for breakfast. It was only quiet for a mere moment before Charon and Raetsel were all over the girl that Fakir decided to bring.

“Yeah, well,” Ahiru began in the middle of a bite, “spending all this time helping create a ballet has made me realize how much I miss doing it myself. It was also watching Fakir pursue his own passion of writing despite his struggles that helped me find the motivation. Not to mention that watching him recently pick ballet back up again—“ she giggled, “—has also been quite encouraging. If even he can be that graceful, then maybe I can be as well!”

Charon and Raetsel shared a hearty laugh at Fakir’s expense, but were nonetheless heart warmed by her anecdote.

“How did you two even meet?” Charon mused with a chuckle.

“Bo-ring!” Raetsel sung, “What we really want to know is how our Fakir managed to convince such a charming girl to be with him!”

“What if it was the other way around?”

“I love my brother, but do you really think that?”

“I don’t know. But we would know you had let her answer my first question,” Charon crossed his arms.

Fakir whispered to ahiru, “Sorry about them…”

She giggled, “they’re great.”

“So how did it happen!?” The two asked in unison, finally ending their previous bickering.

Ahiru glanced at Fakir, and he to her, before she took the initiative.

“He was supposed to write a short article on the sanctuary’s renovations—“

“And I did,” he cut in.

“—But he kept coming back and visiting. For “research” and whatnot,” Ahiru smiled, “but I think he eventually began coming for other reasons.”

“I had finished writing the article,” Fakir took over, “yet I still wanted to talk to her. So, we became friends,” the writer recounted, eyes closed.

Raetsel teased, “I think he started coming just to talk to you after the first visit.”

“I take my job seriously…”

“Yeah,” she shrugged, “but you really only needed one visit. What was it, like a 300 word article?”

“Shut up.”

Ahiru looked around the table full of emptied plates, realizing that their conversation had continued well past the time everyone had finished eating. She was glad. It definitely wasn’t as awkward as she had feared the event to be.

In that moment, she truly appreciated that heavy box on the fateful day that Fakir had offered to lend a hand.

Chapter Text

Pen scribbles, Movement I, “Pavane for a dead knight”

He would often spend the late nights awake in his bed, thinking about her whilst staring at the ceiling.

He didn’t quite love her, no, she confused him too much. The way his mind would wander off about her smile, her laugh, the cute blush that spread across her freckles, it was confusing. Her words stuck out to him, and reached out to his soul. For some reason, he felt like he understood her to an abnormal extent.

Arms outstretched, she had offered him a hug. He had to admit to being afraid. Of what, he wasn’t so sure. Yet, though hesitant, he leaned into her embrace. All at once, he saw that they shared the same insecurities and fears, although they expressed and suppressed it differently.

Maybe he did love her. Maybe he just didn’t have the strength to admit it because he knew that she didn’t love him. He saw the way she had looked at another from afar, and deemed his unsaid feelings to be unrequited. So why did he feel comfortable saying these feelings now?

Perhaps his love surpassed such superficiality. He didn’t need her to love him back. In that way, at least. He could simply just love her, and what she had done for him.

For he had been but a cold knight, before she disarmed him.

Fakir ceased his typing, giving his mind a rest. Somehow, he found the words to flow from his fingertips uninterrupted, like a rushing river. Perhaps it was because he simply wrote his thoughts, even though it was in the context of his characters. Countless nights of stored pillow-thoughts seemed to aid him well in his writing.

For He would often spend the late nights awake in his bed, thinking about her whilst staring at the ceiling.