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((This one on the other hand, is done! 'Lo and behold!))

Fakir had reached a rather terminal conclusion over the course of the past few days; there was no God. Either that, or Drosselmeyer was, in fact, still alive (alive, dead… undead, whatever it was the ghastly, sadistic writer had been) and enjoying the torture he was bestowing the young ex-knight. There was simply no other reason for his current predicament, nor the predicaments he had been enduring for the past several days. There was simply someone omnipotent out there that was out for his blood, and a laugh to boot.

The negative thoughts all stemmed from a single, undeniable fact; she was pressed up against him. Again. Had it been any other time, and had he not been enduring this for days on a row while somehow beyond him keeping his control at bay (needless to say, the boy was still patting himself on the back mentally over this, not to mention congratulating himself silently), Fakir would have been relatively pleased with life. However, taking into account this was the third day he was being forced into such a situation, he had decided life and whomever was cursing him could all go to Hell, thank you very much.

A small groan from the passenger he was carrying in the piggyback position yanked him out of his grim thoughts, and had he been physically able to, Fakir would have bashed his head against a nearby tree. Repeatedly. However, seeing as how that was impossible at the moment, the boy merely indulged himself by closing his eyes firmly till he saw stars behind them. Sadly, rather than alleviate his frustration, the action merely managed to make him all the grumpier, “Are we there yet…?” the fact her voice sounded slurred by sleep and utterly oblivious to his torment was not helping either.

“We’re almost there,” to his benefit, his voice sounded normal to his ears, and didn’t in fact, betray the his inner turmoil; he mentally patted himself on the back yet again, for a job well done, “I know this might be too much to ask, but do try not to drool on my shoulder,” it was added as an afterthought, more in an attempt to frustrate her out of the drowsy position she was in, and engage in verbal battle, than anything else. Verbal battle was safe, verbal battle he could handle. A sleeping, mumbling, groaning Ahiru with arms draped around his shoulders and legs draped around his middle, he could not.

Sadly, the girl merely mumbled something unintelligent into his shoulder and immediately went silent. Again, Fakir cursed whatever sadistic bastards were out there trying to make his life hell, and bowed, he was going to kill them. Because violent thoughts were safe too; anything to keep his mind occupied from the body that was still pressed against him. The same body that had been pressed against him yesterday, and the day before that, due to a series of misfortune accidents.

The first day, when Ahiru had ‘eeped’ loudly and stumbled while walking with him down a hallway, he’d thanked the lord silently, for he’d managed to somehow catch her before she fell down, resulting in a rather interesting position on the floor. It had been brief, for the girl had instantly picked herself off the floor and had proceeded to apologize, fretting over him to boot. However Fakir had been rather secretly pleased with the outcome, and had instantly decided the ordeal had been worth it if only for those brief seconds, for it was rare he could indulge himself with such guilty pleasure.

The second day, he decided that either Ahiru was a natural born klutz and an utter danger to herself (and himself, in a way), or there was someone that liked torturing him. Needless to say, the girl was fascinated by ponds. Specially those were ducks would dwell; she went there often to feed them, tossing bread crumbs for the aquatic birds to eat, and somehow, she was usually able to convince him to go with her, some way or another. Sadly, the redhead had an unnatural ability to attract danger to herself, or maybe she was just accident prone, Fakir didn’t know which, however, fact was, she managed to get too close to the shore, had slipped on the mud, and thus, had taken a fall for the lake.

Reacting on instinct more than anything, he had reached out for her, and had managed to grasp her hand, however, Gravity had intervened at that point, thus, the ordeal had ended up with two very wet, very embarrassed teenagers sitting in a rather compromising position within the swallow pond. At this point, the ex-knight wasn’t sure if he should praise the Lord, or curse him to Hell. Opting for neither, they had somehow disentangled themselves and gone for a much needed change of clothes.

Fate had reserved the worst for last though; earlier that day, he had allowed Ahiru to drag him (against his better sense, taking into account how the previous two days had endded), out to the woods for a stroll. Things seemed to progress along with normality though; they bickered, they talked, and they walked. All which were rather safe activities for his sanity, Fakir decided, and his dark, grey thoughts of impending doom were happily dispelled. The so called ‘safety’ lasted only a few more minutes though, for the moment he took his gaze off of her (he was still mentaly slapping himself for doing so; what had he been thinking? It was all ultimately his fault!) to gaze at the sky, the girl decided she was hungry, and that the only thing that could quell her hunger was a shinny, red apple which happened to be perched on a branch that was just out of reach on a nearby tree.

Ahiru had then proceeded to climb up said tree, reaching up for the luscious fruit with one hand while holding onto a rather flimsy looking branch with the other, and sadly, it was only right about then that the boy finally returned his attention to her, having been oblivious to the situation at hand. There had been a loud crack, signalling the breaking of the branch, a scream, and Fakir had only been just in time to catch the falling girl before she hit the ground; needless to say he was starting to really hate gravity, and by then, he was cursing the Lord, rather thand thank Him. The punch line was that somehow, Ahiru had twisted her ankle during the fall, and thus could not walk, which of course, resulted in the situation he was currently stuck within.

Unlike the previous two times, her body was still, mercilessly pressed up against him, and much like the previous two situations…the girl was utterly unaware of what it was doing to him. So thus his grim, dark thoughts as he tried to think about anything and everything other than the girl that was still ridding on his back, blissfully mumbling something about the sky and the trees, her breath warming his skin and-

Allowing the current train of thought to crash directly into a mountain, Fakir veered straight away from it, turning his gaze up towards the sky.

The sky, he thought to himself, This is me not thinking about anything but the sky.

Yes, the sky was a safe topic. The sky was… large, and darkening rather swiftly, though it was still rather blue in color despite this. Blue was also the color of Ahiru’s eyes, which he could not see, given their current position and-

Again, he allowed that train of thought to crash, a small groan of frustration bubbling up his throat, which swiftly turned into a small sound of victory as he saw the dorms up ahead in the near distance. This was good, because honestly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last; in fact, he was rather surprised he had lasted this long, because this, was torture.

“Aaaare we there yet...?” the words were slightly muffled by the way she was pressing her forehead against his shoulder (Lord help him), slurred from exhaustion.

This time, he let out a sigh as they came up to the dorm room door, “Yes, we are,” he let her down, and helped her to the door, “About time too, because you were killing me,” and with that cryptic piece of information, the boy turned away and left for his own dorm room, leaving the redhead baffled, for she would have never thought she was heavy enough to have been killing him from the exertion. Huffing slightly, Ahiru placed her arms on her hips, watching after his retreating back, sticking her tongue out childishly for a moment. And here she’d been thinking his back was extremely comfortable, and the way he’d been holding her, gentle; served her right for even thinking so.

“Hmph!” the sound was produced by the girl as she lifted her head up with as much dignity as she could muster while limping within the building. What she did not know, was that she’d misunderstood just why, and how she’d been killing him.