Dinner comes and passes in near silence as the night is filled with friendly banter. Everything seems normal as I lean back in my chair in the lavish dining hall. I stand from my seat, thanking them for the food and stepping back into the kitchen to clean my plate. Nothing in this house is small, aside from Rue and myself. I step out back into the living room, starting up for my room. Fakir walks behind me, quiet as we sneak up to my room. As I close the door, I feel his arms wrap around me from behind, embracing me tightly.
"Is everything okay, Fakir?" I softly stroke his arms. His head moves into the crook of my neck.
"I'm perfectly fine," He murmurs, kissing my collarbone. My toes curl as he lifts me up in one arm and pulls away the mesh curtain surrounding my bed. He softly lays me down first, staring down at me and following suit as he lays down on top of me.
He leans into me a bit more, one of his thighs separating my own. Something about the breathy way he speaks to me feels off. He hadn't drank anything at dinner, I don't think. I smile, giggling a bit as I press my hands against his chest, stopping him from coming any further. He seems concerned, confused, maybe a bit of both. I kiss his cheek.
"What are you doing?" I ask, my fingers letting his waves of hair flow down his shoulders. He smiles at me, standing above me.
"Do you not believe my super convincing playboy act?"
"I think you and I know that isn't the real Fakir." I place my hand on his heart, and stand up against him, pulling away the curtains.
"What makes you say that?"
"I thought it was kind of obvious. You're trying to pretend to be this huge player when you have these big walls up so no one gets close," I wrap my arms over his shoulder, where our hearts press against each other, synchronizing in their beating. "But I think that those walls are coming down a bit now." I begin pulling him into a dance, this one another waltz. Fakir rests a hand against my lower back that continues to guide me. He's so nimble and floaty.
"You're thinking too hard again, you know that?" He smirks, his other hand cupping my cheek as he pulls me close to his face, slowing the dance little by little. Our feet still dance around the room, as he twirls and dips me.
"Am I wrong?" I feel his head press between my breasts. That faded dream of being in the ballroom together drifts into my mind as he lifts his eyes to me. Instead of just staring up at me, I feel his gentle pair of lips pressing against the thin fabric.
"I have no comment, personally." He stands us both up, turning towards the door, opening it up and strides into his room. No goodnight or farewell, he just disappears. He seems off, but I'm not going to push. Instead I just close my door, repeating the dance we did together in the cold and lonely room. It's like dancing with the clouds, so gentle and affectionate, yet almost like there's nothing there. But it's better than acknowledging I'm dancing by myself, I guess. There's soft humming music being played throughout the house, though it very well can be my imagination just wanting me to be less lonesome.
Fakir knows he's not playing me, which seems obvious. He clearly likes me more than I ever speculated. But what if he doesn't like the rest of me? What if I tell him every little detail of me, and he ends up disliking me? I sigh to myself. Maybe I do think too much.
Slipping myself under the covers, I can feel Fakir next to me, though I know he isn't. I pull one of the soft and snuggly pillows into my arms, hugging into him tightly. It doesn't smell as sweet, but it will do as best as it can. My eyes slowly shut, softly whispering into the faux temple of my soft and plush Fakir.
"I love you…"
I walk throughout my childhood house, fear and panic living inside my chest as I walk. I tiptoe, trying not to alert my dad in the living room with a group of his associates. He wanted me to just stay in my room, but I hadn't listened to him. Though the floorboards creak, and he is alerted. He stands from his chair and I begin running. My room isn't that far, I don't think. But the hallway seems like it's so long. Falling and slamming my face onto the floor, I feel tears sting my eyes, crumpling to the floor. I manage to scramble up, and throw myself into my room. My mom always told me that I needed to hide in the closet when this happened, and I listened to her. I crawl into my closet, the doors left slightly ajar by the broken bolts. I finally hear my door break open, watching my dad start for the closet, ready to swing it open.
I scurry back a bit more, until I'm pressed with my back against the wall. As soon as his hand touches the handle, I hear my mother's hopeful voice fill inside, begging him to leave me alone. I feel his voice boom throughout the tiny room, ringing hard in my mothers and my ears. My disgustingly curious eyes still watched my father scream at my mother. His hand pulled into his jacket pocket and out was a glint of silver. A glimmer of his pistol. I reached out to scream, but my hands instead cupped my mouth, keeping me silent. His arm firmed up and pointed at my mother. And then, there was a loud bang.
I jolt up, cold sweats running down every inch of my body as I feel my face. I'm still here. Nothing happened. Nothing is wrong right now, it was all just a nightmare. I can feel my skin crawling, and my body shaking. That repressed, dreaded thing decided to come out now. Now, of all times. Nothing nice lasts for me, does it?
My lungs take in shaky breaths, pooling in and out over and over again until I'm no longer shaking. I slip my feet out from beneath my sheets and start a ghostly trudge from outside of my room. Fakir's door is still closed, and the rest of the house is quiet. I've slept in the same bed as him before, it shouldn't be that weird if I just slip in with him. My hand hesitates against his door handle. I shouldn't bother him, should I? I gulp, my hands still firm on the knob. Still, it turns under my timid and sweating fingers.
I enter as quietly as I can, closing the door softly behind me. Fakir is laying in his bed, but he isn't asleep. His eyes are open, watching his door as I ender. He's not angry or even surprised that I'm awake, it seems. He simply flips open his sheets to me, silently. I nod and slip into his bed, snuggling into his bed.
"You've never had good dreams, have you?" Fakir asks softly, stroking my hair with those gentle and affectionate hands. I snuggle my face into his chest, trying not to show my weaknesses.
"Not really." I can hear his steady breaths as it comforts my shaky and unregulated ones. My arms wrap around him tightly, pulling him closer to me. I can't help but feel my ears still ring from that gun shot, from the pleadings of my mother. I can't even begin to explain to him how many of these sorts of nightmares. He keeps me pressed close to his heart.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He doesn't remove me from his chest, just letting me clutch onto him and into his gentle soul. His hands brush against the back of my head. In my anxious stupor I just shrug, asking if he's sure he can handle it. He chuckles and keeps stroking my hair.
"It takes more than a nightmare to scare me, Duckling. But don't feel like you have to say anything. I'm not here to pressure you into spilling your feelings." His voice is hushed against the top of my head, smiling through his tone. I trust him, I know he doesn't really have any reason to hurt me. And so I tell him. The entirety of that dream, that entire memory, flows from out of my mouth and into his ears. He listens without a word until the last sentence is said. We are quiet in his room as my hands just clutch tighter. He stops stroking my hair, instead just embracing me tighter into his arms. He and I just lay there in this sweet silence.
Something hauntingly nostalgic is in his arms and in this moment we share. Something utterly kind and affectionate that keeps me roped into him. That soft pounding in his chest of his heart is like a metronome to my soul. It sinks me into his body further and I realize how much I've craved this sweet feeling. I don't even realize the tears stinging my eyes until I blink, rubbing them away as I push him back.
"Sorry, I know that's probably a lot to take in." I smile up at him, still rubbing away the tears from my eyes. He lets me pull away from him, but shakes his head and helps wipe away the tears on my splotchy cheeks. The darkness is no longer all-consuming and I can see the veiled shapes of his handsome face.
"Don't be sorry. It's a lot to hold,"
"It's probably not as bad as I remember, honestly."
"Watching a parent die is terrifying. It's probably a lot worse than your poor mind can handle." He pulls me into his chest again, and I feel more tears roll down and soak his shirt. I slowly nod into him and my voice cracks as I timidly request of him.
"Please… Please don't think of me differently. I didn't want her to die… I wanted to scream and to tell the police and tell everyone what he did…"
"I know."
"I just let her die in there, Fakir. I let him get away with it. I was selfish and scared and I wish I had done anything other than freeze!"
"I know."
"I wish… I wish that I could have done anything differently."
Fakir presses his lips against my forehead, silencing me for the time being. He softly hums the little lullaby I had sung by myself in that bathroom when we were alone together. Looking up to him, I feel my cheeks flush.
"Can I say something to you?" Fakir rubs my back, calming me down a bit. I nod to him and he thinks for a long moment, pulling me into his arms. Peaceful as his raspy voice begins.
"You were ten, Ahiru. You were a just child. Children shouldn't have to feel responsible for things like that. I know you wish you could have changed it, you wish you could have saved her. You want to believe that you could have done anything. But you were a child, and you truly couldn't have done anything more than what you did. You did all that you should have, and you know what?" He pauses and kisses my cheek very gently, resting his forehead against my own. "I'm almost completely certain your mother would have been more distraught if you were the one hit by that bullet. You wouldn't be here with me. You wouldn't be here talking to me. You wouldn't have been the Ahiru that I know today if you survived that, either." His words come to me, almost as a small weight lifted from my chest. I don't want to admit he's right, but I feel it eating at me, knowing he is.
"You're a strong person. You're kind and dorky and…" He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. "And frankly one of my favorite people. And that doesn't mean you're not hurting or you don't have things you need to work on. But you have all the time in the world to work on it right now."
I cuddle my face further into his chest, nodding very slowly against him. He pulls me away, laying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling. I stare as well, out of his arms.
"You seem to know a lot about this sort of thing." I snuggle under his blankets a bit further, trying to avoid his gaze.
"I've had a bit happen in my life. I understand what it does to you." He responds, empathetic as his eyes wander to his bookshelf, closer to me. It's a lulling quiet we have together, the only sound being our breathing and the rustling of the blankets laying over us. I turn my head to face him, just clutching the blankets.
"Like what?" I ask, nervously clutching a bit tighter. He turns very slowly to look at me, his hair getting a tad messier as he speaks. There's no smile on his face, but he doesn't seem angry.
"Close to what happened to you. Both parents were killed in front of me. Random attack by a gang called the Ravens. I was a little younger than you, maybe only about six." His eyes don't really seem to wander from me, trying to comfort me. Everything feels like it drops as I hug into him again, at least for a short period of time.
"I'm so sorry." I mutter, trying to comfort him. His hands do nothing but hold me close.
"It's all okay. I'm okay."
"But you're not. You're hurting."
"I was hurting. But I'm okay now." He lets me go, letting me look at him. He's grinning very gently down at me, comforting me. But I shouldn't be comforted right now, he should be comforted.
"Is there anything I can do to make you feel okay?" I caress his cheek and he holds my hand against his cheek.
"There's nothing I need. I'm okay now."
Tears begin filling my eyes as I throw off my blankets and sitting on top of his hips. I want to make him feel better. Fakir looks up at me, quirking his eyebrow as I hug into him tighter. I feel our hips press together, and I anxiously kiss his neck. This is what Antoinette said makes most men happy, and I am determined to make him happy. I fidget with the hem of my dress, unsure if I should pull it off.
"What're you doing?" He hugs me back, and I whimper into his neck.
"I don't know. I want to do something to make you happy."
"Do you think that sex will really make me happy?" His words sting a bit. I sit up and stare back down at him from my perch. He's cold as he looks up at me, his eyes narrow but his hands very gentle on my waist. I gulp nervously, maybe even in fear of his answer.
"Would it?" I ask. My fingers throb against his hands, unsure whether to move them or keep them there. He sighs and lays me back down next to him.
"No, it wouldn't. It would make me think you're avoiding your problems by having sex." He strokes my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You and I are going to talk."
And so, he started.
"I would hate to see you do something you regret because you think it'll make someone else happy. That'll just hurt you."
"But isn't it good to make others happy?"
"Not at your own expense. You need to remember that you are important above all else."
"I'm not as important as you think, Fakir." I try to keep my voice from cracking. I realize as soon as the words leave how mopey I sound. Fakir furrows his brows at me, sitting up and unbuttoning his shirt. I furrow my brows, a bit confused. "What are you doing?"
"You're being an idiot." He mutters, turning away from me as he pulls his shirt all the way off. "And I'm proving to you that you're an idiot." He stands up, slowly lighting one of the dim candles in his room. As he turns to face me, I recognize the long, pale scar that pulls across his chest. He kneels on the bed in front of me, his face turning a lighter shade of pink as I take in the three jagged scars across his torso.
"How is this proving I'm an idiot?" I hesitate, my hands tightly holding onto the blankets as I look from the scar to his face.
"I got this scar in your defense." Fakir moves a bit closer, taking my hand and placing it on the soft raised skin.
"What..? Why, how? Why did you do that? What happened?" Suddenly I feel guilt wash over me. What did I do to make him need to defend me?
"Your first year, you were an immediate target." He lays beside me, pulling his shirt back over his arms, though leaving it unbuttoned. "Someone in my sword fighting class said they were going to try and hurt you in indescribable ways. Even if I hated you back then, I couldn't just let that happen. I challenged him, and I won, at a minor cost."
My eyes fixate on his chest, and my hands gently wander over and against it. Tears pool in my eyes as I press my face into his chest. What did I really do to deserve someone like Fakir? He still wanted to help me even back when he thought I was an insufferable child.
"That's exactly how much you mean. That's how important you are." He strokes my hair, his hands brushing my hair. I gulp and nod my head.
"Why didn't you ever say anything about it?" I ask as I look back at him, suppressing hiccupping sobs. We lay back down next to one another.
"I didn't want to make you feel like you were indebted to me. Plus, I had an image I wanted to keep up. I had a girlfriend at the time, and she would have killed me if she found out I defended another girl." He smirks and stares back up at the ceiling. I snuggle against his warm skin, listening to his heart beat again. I chuckle, my heart pacing even faster as I think about fourteen year old Fakir with a girlfriend.
"Plus, in my opinion, you were definitely cuter than her back then." He laughs and wraps his arm under me, his hand against my shoulder just to keep me close. I feel myself becoming warmer by the second as he squeezes me tighter into his gentle arms, a smile pulling at his lips as he speaks about me. "Well, you still are cuter than her." My face flushes as I tiredly push my face into his chest.
"You really think so?" I shiver and my entire body feels aflame. He nods and I wiggle out from underneath the blankets. Fakir does the same, and I'm reintroduced to the soft fuzz of his happy trail making a thin pyramid to below his pants. I gulp and nuzzle my face into his neck, trying not to look down at the definition of his hips, that soft looking fuzz.
"Absolutely." His voice is confident, certain in his decision. My face flushes as I squeak into the softness of his chest.
"I don't understand what you see in me. I'm just like a duck," I joke, showing him my frail little body. Fakir shrugs and looks me over, his hand running over my side, feeling the little inches of my waist, hips, and ribs.
"I'm a sucker for red hair and blue eyes. Freckles too. Especially on a tiny girl like you. Not everyday you see something like that," He smiles. I smile back.
"Oh, so it's always physical to you now is it?"
"Of course not. You're sweet, and funny. Dull, but good hearted," He winks, kissing my cheek.
"Definitely not girlfriend material for you,"
"Perfect girlfriend material actually." I watch as his face burns like the candle in the room. Cheeks turning red in unison, I watch him backtrack. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make it weird."
"No no, it wasn't weird…" I stare down at the blankets pooled at our feet for a second. "Would you ever actually want to date me?" Fakir burns up brightly, looking away from my face. He thinks on it for a few seconds, before slowly responding.
"I wouldn't object to it if it was offered." I manage to pull myself up towards his neck and wrap my arm underneath my chest, kissing his collar anxiously.
"So… You like me?" I clutch him tighter, my words feeling childish as they leave my lips. His lips press against my forehead again, warmth filling my stomach.
"More than like, but if you want to call it that, you can." I stay silent for a few moments, still just caressing his chest in the comfortable silence. It feels unreal what I'm hearing.
"Well, how do you feel about me?" I ask, wanting to know exactly how I make him feel. He thinks for a while, staring up at the ceiling. He shrugs and kisses me again.
"Warm. It's a lovely feeling. I think you described it as 'a warm feeling in my chest and between my legs', or something like that? So, I'm very hard for you, and you make my heart pound in my chest." he smirks, joking. "But it's a little more than that. You're a very wonderful person, and I appreciate your presence."
My heart throbs, but I pause for a moment, thinking about the other girls he's probably shown that to. I halt his buttoning, sitting back on top of him.
"What's it like being in love with someone?" I ask rather abruptly. With his shirt half open, his hair messy, and his eyes tired, he looks so absolutely kissable. So touchable. He smirks and sits up, placing me on his lap, now towering against me. He strokes my hair and quirks his eyebrow.
"It's pleasant. Nothing I can ever really describe, if I'm honest."
"Did you love your girlfriends?"
"Mm, most of them. But they always had something," He thinks about it for a second, before speaking again. "Something slightly off. I've crushed on a girl for years, and no one has ever been just like her," He looks out the window, staring out at the weaning twilight. I peer as well, staring at the brightening dark.
"Do you think she likes you back?"
"Why don't you ask her?" He gives a cheeky grin. I realize exactly what he means, causing me to burn up completely. He chuckles and holds both my hands, kissing them both softly.
"I think she's warming up to you,"
"I can tell, she's very hot right now." He lays back a bit, taking in all of me. I pull down on the hem of my dress, nervously fidgeting as I lay back against his legs. I groan nervously, just resting against him. His gentle hand holds onto my own, softly lifting them up a bit. My head peers up, noticing him just staring at the soft pink mounds on my chest from under my dress. I sit up again, listening to him begin to apologize. Though I don't speak, the heat becomes too much as I pull my entire nightgown off, leaving me in just a pair of silky panties on top of his hips. His face lights up rather immediately. His hands run over my bare hips and waist, making me shiver.
"Are you sure you're okay with this?" He asks, one of his hands resting on my back as he gently kisses the space between my breasts. I nod to him positively, letting him continue. "You promise you're not doing this just for my benefit?" I nod my head again. I watch his hungry lips wrap around one of my small, pink nipples, his free hand tenderly massaging the opposite one. I twitch under his fingers and let out a short breath, stroking his hair as he continues kissing and suckling. My thighs squeeze his hips as he gently bucks up against me. He slips his tongue against the sensitive and warm skin he has his lips wrapped around, teasing my nervous skin even more. His hands pinch against my nipple, and I whimper. Fakir perks his ears up, stopping for a moment. I listen as well. Theres a set of footsteps towards the door. In a rush of adrenaline, Fakir pulls blankets over us, hiding me as he turns his back away from the door. I'm face to face with his bare chest now.
There's a light knock on the door, though neither of us answer. I hear it creak open, and Rue's voice peeks out, asking Fakir to keep it down. He agrees, apologizing, and as he's speaking, I start kissing his chest lightly. He shivers and I kiss again. My hand raises up his shirt, kissing his scars with gentle intent. As soon as the door closes, I hear a very small moan escape his lips. He pulls up the blankets and raises an eyebrow at me.
"Now, what are you doing down there?" He tilts my head up as I kiss again, staring up to see him shiver. I smile more at him, that handsome and frustrated face, watching him have to bite his lower lip to not moan again.
"Just kissing your chest. Is that a problem?" I giggle, feeling him pull me back up into his arms.
"Not particularly, though I would prefer to see your face when you kiss me." He tilts my head up and smiles, kissing my lips just as hungrily he did with my breast. His hands keep pressed against my back, making me smile into his kiss. The sweet smile shared in that kiss makes me pull away, giggling a bit. The mood was no longer sexual, but I'm okay with just the romantic playfulness sparking between us.
"You're dorky," I poke his nose, sticking my tongue out at him.
"Look who's talking," He squeezes my cheek in his palm. This beating in my chest feels so natural, so gleeful. Raw and jovial in our mutual quietness. Is this what people say a spark is?
"Well, at least I'm known for my dorkiness. You're known for your cool, broodingness." I respond, sure in my answer. Fakir smirks and sits up a bit, laying me on my side.
"I guess you're right in that aspect," He strokes my bare waist, grabbing hold of my nightgown and handing it to me. "But you should be glad I'm more comfortable around you."
My cheek flush red as I pull the dress back on. He truly is breaking down walls now with me. He's getting more and more comfortable with me, and I feel at least a tad bit accomplished. Fakir finishes buttoning up his shirt and returns to cuddling me tightly into the warmth of his chest.
"So, onto a serious topic." Fakir starts stroking my hair, his words much softer and his tone is cold all over again. "Why did you start hanging out with Antoinette?" His words unintentionally slip venomous fangs into my neck, sucking all that confidence out of me. I gulp and nuzzle into his shirt, unsure where to start. I can tell Fakir everything about her and how she's been treating me. I can let him know every little lie that she spread, every little thing she said about him. I can let it all out right now. My mouth impulsively opens, and I start talking.
"She's blackmailing me, I think."
"You think?" Fakir raises an eyebrow, letting me keep my face in his chest. I nod.
"If I don't do everything she asks, she's going to tell everyone we've been sleeping together, even though she knows we haven't." Fakir and I are silent for a few moments, though just through his fingertips I can feel his anger rumbling.
"Why didn't you ever tell anyone?" He whispers into my hair, and I shrug, trying to not look at him.
"I was scared-I am scared. She scares me," I whimper fearfully into him. My arms shake a bit as I keep holding onto him. I gulp again, continuing.
"She said that I belong to her, at least until she thinks I've paid my debt. It was after I got Wayland expelled, and that I owed her for it."
Fakir is silent again, but his heart is pounding. He's furious and I can feel that ferocity boiling against me as he brews on what I've said. His hands clutch me tighter into him. I don't wiggle away, just holding onto his large, tight bear hug.
"You're no longer indebted to her, got it?" He mutters into me. I look up and cock my head.
"What..?"
"You aren't in her debt anymore. I'll talk to her when spring break is over." He's aggressive, not angry, but authoritarian. I pull myself out from his grasp, shaking my head. I didn't want her to know I told him, and if he confronts her then something bad is definitely going to happen to both of us.
"Please don't, it's all okay, Fakir." I hold my hands up in defense. Fakir narrows his eyes, furrowing his brows and now glaring me down.
"This isn't okay. You're getting hurt because someone is deciding to take advantage of you," He sits up, still glaring at me. I shake my head and turn away from him, not wanting to look at him as I continue on.
"I'll be okay, Fakir." I mutter, staring at the dark door.
"No you won't be. It's not about you anymore. If she's doing this to you, what will prevent her from doing this to someone else?" He quiets down a tad, starting to rebraid my hair. I keep quiet, knowing I don't really have a defense. Hot rays flood upwards from my toes as I feel him finish braiding, spooning me. His knee presses between my legs, spreading them a slight bit. I wrap his arms over my ribs, pulling his body completely against mine. The comfort is warming, but I still can't speak. Fakir and I just lay together as the daylight weans up more from the windows. I've spent all night in his room, just talking to him. My heart pounds as I turn to face him, watching him grin very softly at me, his anger having dissipated. I can see the soft dawn glow give him a nearly angelic glow. Oranges and reds outlining him perfectly, creating a halo over his entire body.
"You look like an angel right now," I muse, turning over fully and cupping his cheeks in my tiny hands. He chuckles as he takes hold of both my hands, softly squeezing them as he lowers them to be against our chests.
"You are an angel." He whispers softly, giving me soft Eskimo kisses as my heart melts in my chest. As the dawn continues peeking through, I just stare over his mature features in the glorious light. His soft smile lines, the dark strands of hair that loosely fall over his face, the soft tan of his skin. He really has become a very handsome man. I want to say it, to tell him I love him. But maybe it's too soon? What if I say it and he wants me to disappear? It's been so long since I've ever said it to someone or had it said to me. He smiles a bit more before sitting up and heading for the bathroom.
"If you want to keep laying down, you can. I just need to shower a bit." He starts off towards his own bathroom, and I nod, continuing to lay down and watch the dawn produce those beautiful rays that glow and shimmer in through the thin window panes. I curl Fakir's pillow into my chest, letting me still cuddle something. The sound of rushing water mutes the thoughts in my mind, acting as white noise as I keep watching the sky turn that lovely blue it likes to stay. I think about slipping into the bathroom to catch just a little peek, though that fills my mind with thoughts I can't even begin to comprehend. What if I'm bad at sex since I'm a virgin? What if I didn't make him cum? What if he didn't want to wear a condom and he came inside of me? The pillow is great for groaning my frustrations into, I learn. Still, I try to imagine it. Maybe he would be gentle with me, hold my hands and tell me what to do. Thinking back on it, I remember how big he felt through his pants as he grinded against me. The sheer feeling of it through his pants as he had pressed against me, was enough to intimidate me into submission.
I sit up and yawn, trying not to think about sex as I throw off the blankets and stand, stretching my limbs and popping all my joints. I watch the smoky steam pool on the ceiling from the bathroom, making soft warm clouds in the black sky of Fakir's room. It's beautiful. It's something I wish can last forever.