Disclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu.
Pas Seul
Another Sunday afternoon lost to the classroom. Fakir was a young boy; he enjoyed riding horses and the forest outside of town, he liked smelling like grass and falling into streams.
But Mytho asked so very little of him that when this one favor had politely been asked that morning, Fakir didn't even consider turning it down. Besides, Mytho didn't quite enjoy the woods and the outside so very much as Fakir did, and even though he didn't know he didn't like it, Fakir didn't have the heart to drag him along for the ride (though leaving Mytho alone in the academy to fend for himself was absolutely out of the question as well).
So they practiced. Mytho wouldn't have asked if it weren't for Monday's promise of a skills test, but Fakir knew that there was nothing on a simple exam that could threaten either of them. So Fakir just watched for the most part, spending hours on his stomach, lying on the classroom floor. Just watching Mytho's steps. He stayed for every second of it, willing himself not to blink at times.
He told himself that he stayed all those times, each time Mytho wanted to practice, because someone would have to tell Mytho when he was too exhausted to continue. Not because he fell in love every time he watched.