notes: takes place during akt 8, between the moments fakir hides ahiru as a duck in his shirt and the second he puts her outside.
i own nothing.

Akt 8

Living with a heartless prince that made it a mission to help small feeble animals, Fakir was no stranger to seeing one wandering around where it wasn't supposed to.

Though he couldn't say he had ever had a duck hide in his locker, before. But birds, he found, tended to be more scatterbrained than most others. Mytho would get his fair share of pecks and scratches whenever he tried to handle one.

Which was also rather surprising about the little duck stuffed underneath his shirt. When Fakir carefully reached out and picked it up, he was fully expecting the little thing to struggle. They typically did. But not this one—instead it remained almost perfectly still, not making a single peep as he began making his way down the halls of the practice building.

Fakir normally didn't particularly care for small animals. Perhaps after living and keeping an eye on Mytho all these years had an effect on him, to just automatically reach out and help something that was weak before the heartless prince caught sight of it and did something stupidly reckless. It had turned into something almost second nature.

Or maybe that wasn't really the whole story, but Fakir was not about to waste his time dwelling on it. He was just putting a duck outside where it belonged before someone else found it.

As soon as he had the little bird tucked under his practice clothing, the student knew exactly what he needed to do. The ballet building was relatively crowded in the hallways between classes, so he should have been heading to the exit to get the duck back outside, where it would do god knows what for the rest of its life.

Instead, Fakir found that his feet were carrying him the opposite direction, to the lounge area. That was most definitely filled with students who would notice a squirming lump underneath his clothes—if it had been squirming at all, that is. Nevertheless, making an appearance out of his uniform and clearly keeping something under his shirt was definitely not a sight he should have brought to a room he knew would be public.

…Because it's brunch-time, Fakir reasoned in his head. The front of the room was always filled with tables of drinks and finger-foods at this hour, and if the duck was looking for food in the men's locker room, then it was probably hungry. Fakir refused to dwell on the fact that going out of his way to gather bread for a duck was otherwise a complete waste of time.

When he met the wooden door to the lounge area, he actually had to stop in his tracks and glance down to the concealed animal under his shirt. It was surprisingly calm, for something that had been abruptly taken and all but stuffed in a dark space. But when he gently pulled out the blue cloth to check on it, he was only greeted with a wide and completely horrified stare.

And in that moment, his eyes softened slightly.

Though the frown still refused to withdraw from his face. The thing looked terrified, even if it was a moron for going around inside the school for some food. Fakir didn't think anything strange when it suddenly began to blink owlishly back at him in response to his expression relaxing.

"Stupid," he mumbled underneath his breath as he pulled back the blue shirt to once again cover up the animal—and it was only then when he finally felt it move, feeling a webbed foot actually give something akin to a kick against his abdomen. Perhaps overwhelmed from the sudden rush of events, he concluded silently while pulling the door handle open.

With that, the student managed to look nonchalant as he entered the lounge room, ignoring any stares or murmurs as to why he had yet to change back into his school uniform. He was quick to stop by the small buffet table and pick out a small loaf of bread. Fakir didn't bother glancing around to see if anyone else was paying attention to him, or even if Mytho had already arrived. Instead, he took a considerate bite out of the loaf for himself before spinning on his heel to leave.

The duck stopped moving again, he noticed while carrying himself down the vast hallways. Perhaps it was much less insightful than the others, unaware that a situation like this should have been perceived as dangerous and life-threatening rather than curious. It was absurd, but Fakir found himself almost envious of it.

Once he pushed open one of the side entrances to the building, he idly made his way over across the small field of grass, stopping just before a small gathering of trees. Fakir paused to pick apart a few small chunks of bread, and then reached into the opening of his practice shirt to draw out the small yellow duck. It was certainly a small little thing, fitting almost perfectly in the size of his palm.

With that, he crouched down to the ground to place it in the grass.