have you found where your place is? (Princess Tutu; Fakir/Ahiru)
Title: have you found where your place is?
Author: reversedhymnal
Rating: PG
Warnings: -
Word count: 1497
Summary: Fact: Fakir is a boy Ahiru will say goodbye to, before he can give up the best parts of himself.
A/N: I realize there is no porn in this, and I would apologize if I wasn't so happy with how it came out, haha. But if you wait a little while, I'm also in the middle of writing a Princess Tutu fic for allira_dream which will have Fakir/Ahiru porn in it! I just, uh, need to knock out some more prompts, and also finish it, lol. Also may I laugh hysterically about how this is on time, ahahahaha!
Princess Tutu, Fakir/Ahiru: Memories of touch - 'Would you dance if I asked you to dance?'
Ahiru wished she could accept her ending and make it a happily ever after, but the memory of Fakir’s hands steady on her waist, his palm precise against hers - it wouldn’t leave her alone. Every time his fingers ran tenderly over her feathers, or his arms cradled her body against his chest, it was close but not the same, and sometimes she wanted so fiercely she didn’t know if she’d be able to stand it. But Ahiru understood the meaning of suffering, and she knew how to be strong for her own sake.
Yet she knew how to be stronger still for those she loved.
*
Fact: Ahiru is a bird; she cannot speak with human words, she has no fingers and her feet are webbed, she waddles on dry land and dances in the water alone.
Fact: Fakir is a boy that she will never be able to tell “I love you” to. Not because he wouldn’t understand her if she rose up and swept her snow white wings and bade her body to move with the emotion of her feelings; but because he would understand, and loyal Fakir would stay by her side for a love that could never be more than meaning lost within the impossible space between them.
Fact: Ahiru is a bird with a girl’s heart, and she is selfish and she knows regret and hunger, and more than that she loves Fakir better than she loves herself.
Fact: Fakir is a boy Ahiru will say goodbye to, before he can give up the best parts of himself.
Fact: Ducks cry tears as real as any human.
*
One day, Ahiru spread her wings and lifted her small body from the lake water, and flew away with the other ducks; Fakir stood on the dock with his eyes dark holes in his face and his mouth a wound unraveling, feeling like his heart had been stolen away.
When Charon came home that night he found his charge in a slump in the wreckage of what had been his room, a sword gripped tight and useless in the boy’s hand. “Fakir,” he asked, confused, and Fakir murmured sadly, “The world is just an ordinary thing now, isn’t it? It was never what I’d call a fairytale, but it was better than this. Why do I keep giving my heart to people who don’t need it?”
“I don’t understand,” Charon said helplessly, and Fakir’s mouth quirked into a dark little smirk that Charon hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Neither do I.”
*
Fakir couldn’t sleep anymore. He lay awake in bed thinking of Ahiru and how empty his life was, until he dragged himself from bed and began to write. He didn’t write because he meant to, or had a plan, or wanted to. He wrote, filling thousands of papers with cramped or sometimes sprawling print, because he had to do something so that all the quiet lonely moments didn’t make him go insane.
It was easy to write, now that he had nothing left to lose.
*
He wrote: There was a girl who was brave and childish, who was human not because that was her shape, but because her heart felt so much. There was a boy who didn’t always know what was best, and who came to love her fiercely.
He wrote: I’ve forgotten how to dance because all I can remember is how we moved together.
He wrote: There was a duck who left a boy when all the magic in the world had bled away; and the boy didn’t believe in happily ever afters anymore, but remembering the girl made him want to try believing in them anyway.
He wrote: She was solid in my hands, the few times we danced. She wasn’t elegant so much as earnest, and I could feel the tremor of her emotions through my fingertips against her waist. When I lifted her up, my fingers digging into her for a firmer grip, she spread her arms like she could fly, and now when I remember her pressed against me as we danced our pas de deux I wonder why I didn’t hold on tighter.
He wrote: When her fingers framed my face, I didn’t feel brave. Her touch asked for a partner, not a hero. Her hand in mine made me feel worthy again; I felt forgiven. We’ve made more impossible things happen together, before.
*
Distance could not make Ahiru’s heart forget; the other ducks did not understand why she was sad, and gave her space, and Ahiru was alone with the fragile hope that at least Fakir was better off this way. He could move on, and make a happy ending with some pretty girl who could perform a perfect entrechat and didn’t get nauseas if she did too many pirouettes in a row.
It hurt, and she couldn’t stop mourning no matter how beautiful the rising sun in the dawn.
And then one day she nearly drowned, because girls didn’t float like ducks did, and when she screeched real words came out, and the water was cold against her bare skin; it felt like it was seeping in straight to her bones, instead of sliding off her feathers.
She made it to shore, and dragged herself up on shaky legs, her bright red hair wet and straggling around her face. She touched the smooth flesh of her cheeks, her eyebrows, her sharp nose with trembling fingers, and had to sit down when she started to laugh so hard it sent her into sobbing.
She realized the world was full of obstacles and life was hard and that time didn’t make things better and, above all, that love made happy endings possible if you were prepared to risk everything for it.
First, she thought, and then blinked her human eyes, and smiled with her human mouth, and said it aloud just for the joy of being able to speak: “First, I need to steal some clothes.”
She made her body stand up, more or less straight; frowning in concentration, she placed one foot in front of the other, and walked. It was slow going trying to learn for a second time how to be a girl instead of a duck, but it was still moving forward. Ahiru laughed again, unable to keep the bright sound inside of her; now that she didn’t have wings, she felt more than ever like she could fly.
“Just hang on, Fakir,” she told the world, “I’m coming.”
*
The day Ahiru came back was a cold gray morning, wind bowing the trees down, and a chill shivering in the air that promised rain. Fakir opened the door, and the first thing he saw was her impossible hair blowing in the wind; then he bent his neck to look down and got caught on her face, the sweet roundness of it, the wide mouth, the eyes as clear and blue as a lake in summer.
Into his silence, with her creaky rough voice so dear to him, she said: “I thought if I left and took my love with me you could live a happier life.”
Fakir reached out slowly for her hands, and their fingertips touched, trembled against each other. Then they were gripping tightly together, unable to let go. Ahiru kissed him first because she’d gotten so good at going forward, determined, Fakir her final destination. Words were never her strong point in communicating anyway, and she pushed up hard onto her toes, like she trying for pointe, and pressed her mouth hungry and relieved against his.
“I missed you,” Fakir said when they drew back. Rain began to fall, but they were content to share their warmth and stand through it. “Try not to be so stupid next time, would you?”
Ahiru wrapped her arms around him, laughed brokenly against his neck. Pressed her cheek against his and didn’t mention when she felt warm tears mingled with the cold rain. “I wouldn’t have to be stupid,” she told him, “if you weren’t so ridiculous. Jerk.”
It made him laugh, and Ahiru closed her eyes and just listened to the most beautiful sound in the world. And then he proved her wrong by saying her name in that warm low voice, and it was possibly the most glorious moment that ever existed, because he smiled down at her with the rain making his bangs hang messy in his strong face, and his hand was held out in that special way for her to take.
“Ahiru,” he said, legs shifting, body moving tenderly, “Will you dance with me?”
Ahiru couldn’t stop smiling at him; she wasn’t Tutu, and she wasn’t a duck. She was a girl in love with a boy who loved her just the same. Their hands met, a gentle touch that said more than words. Together they danced, the rain falling down around them, filled with a joy greater than a storybook could ever claim to tell.
Author: reversedhymnal
Rating: PG
Warnings: -
Word count: 1497
Summary: Fact: Fakir is a boy Ahiru will say goodbye to, before he can give up the best parts of himself.
A/N: I realize there is no porn in this, and I would apologize if I wasn't so happy with how it came out, haha. But if you wait a little while, I'm also in the middle of writing a Princess Tutu fic for allira_dream which will have Fakir/Ahiru porn in it! I just, uh, need to knock out some more prompts, and also finish it, lol. Also may I laugh hysterically about how this is on time, ahahahaha!
Princess Tutu, Fakir/Ahiru: Memories of touch - 'Would you dance if I asked you to dance?'
Ahiru wished she could accept her ending and make it a happily ever after, but the memory of Fakir’s hands steady on her waist, his palm precise against hers - it wouldn’t leave her alone. Every time his fingers ran tenderly over her feathers, or his arms cradled her body against his chest, it was close but not the same, and sometimes she wanted so fiercely she didn’t know if she’d be able to stand it. But Ahiru understood the meaning of suffering, and she knew how to be strong for her own sake.
Yet she knew how to be stronger still for those she loved.
*
Fact: Ahiru is a bird; she cannot speak with human words, she has no fingers and her feet are webbed, she waddles on dry land and dances in the water alone.
Fact: Fakir is a boy that she will never be able to tell “I love you” to. Not because he wouldn’t understand her if she rose up and swept her snow white wings and bade her body to move with the emotion of her feelings; but because he would understand, and loyal Fakir would stay by her side for a love that could never be more than meaning lost within the impossible space between them.
Fact: Ahiru is a bird with a girl’s heart, and she is selfish and she knows regret and hunger, and more than that she loves Fakir better than she loves herself.
Fact: Fakir is a boy Ahiru will say goodbye to, before he can give up the best parts of himself.
Fact: Ducks cry tears as real as any human.
*
One day, Ahiru spread her wings and lifted her small body from the lake water, and flew away with the other ducks; Fakir stood on the dock with his eyes dark holes in his face and his mouth a wound unraveling, feeling like his heart had been stolen away.
When Charon came home that night he found his charge in a slump in the wreckage of what had been his room, a sword gripped tight and useless in the boy’s hand. “Fakir,” he asked, confused, and Fakir murmured sadly, “The world is just an ordinary thing now, isn’t it? It was never what I’d call a fairytale, but it was better than this. Why do I keep giving my heart to people who don’t need it?”
“I don’t understand,” Charon said helplessly, and Fakir’s mouth quirked into a dark little smirk that Charon hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Neither do I.”
*
Fakir couldn’t sleep anymore. He lay awake in bed thinking of Ahiru and how empty his life was, until he dragged himself from bed and began to write. He didn’t write because he meant to, or had a plan, or wanted to. He wrote, filling thousands of papers with cramped or sometimes sprawling print, because he had to do something so that all the quiet lonely moments didn’t make him go insane.
It was easy to write, now that he had nothing left to lose.
*
He wrote: There was a girl who was brave and childish, who was human not because that was her shape, but because her heart felt so much. There was a boy who didn’t always know what was best, and who came to love her fiercely.
He wrote: I’ve forgotten how to dance because all I can remember is how we moved together.
He wrote: There was a duck who left a boy when all the magic in the world had bled away; and the boy didn’t believe in happily ever afters anymore, but remembering the girl made him want to try believing in them anyway.
He wrote: She was solid in my hands, the few times we danced. She wasn’t elegant so much as earnest, and I could feel the tremor of her emotions through my fingertips against her waist. When I lifted her up, my fingers digging into her for a firmer grip, she spread her arms like she could fly, and now when I remember her pressed against me as we danced our pas de deux I wonder why I didn’t hold on tighter.
He wrote: When her fingers framed my face, I didn’t feel brave. Her touch asked for a partner, not a hero. Her hand in mine made me feel worthy again; I felt forgiven. We’ve made more impossible things happen together, before.
*
Distance could not make Ahiru’s heart forget; the other ducks did not understand why she was sad, and gave her space, and Ahiru was alone with the fragile hope that at least Fakir was better off this way. He could move on, and make a happy ending with some pretty girl who could perform a perfect entrechat and didn’t get nauseas if she did too many pirouettes in a row.
It hurt, and she couldn’t stop mourning no matter how beautiful the rising sun in the dawn.
And then one day she nearly drowned, because girls didn’t float like ducks did, and when she screeched real words came out, and the water was cold against her bare skin; it felt like it was seeping in straight to her bones, instead of sliding off her feathers.
She made it to shore, and dragged herself up on shaky legs, her bright red hair wet and straggling around her face. She touched the smooth flesh of her cheeks, her eyebrows, her sharp nose with trembling fingers, and had to sit down when she started to laugh so hard it sent her into sobbing.
She realized the world was full of obstacles and life was hard and that time didn’t make things better and, above all, that love made happy endings possible if you were prepared to risk everything for it.
First, she thought, and then blinked her human eyes, and smiled with her human mouth, and said it aloud just for the joy of being able to speak: “First, I need to steal some clothes.”
She made her body stand up, more or less straight; frowning in concentration, she placed one foot in front of the other, and walked. It was slow going trying to learn for a second time how to be a girl instead of a duck, but it was still moving forward. Ahiru laughed again, unable to keep the bright sound inside of her; now that she didn’t have wings, she felt more than ever like she could fly.
“Just hang on, Fakir,” she told the world, “I’m coming.”
*
The day Ahiru came back was a cold gray morning, wind bowing the trees down, and a chill shivering in the air that promised rain. Fakir opened the door, and the first thing he saw was her impossible hair blowing in the wind; then he bent his neck to look down and got caught on her face, the sweet roundness of it, the wide mouth, the eyes as clear and blue as a lake in summer.
Into his silence, with her creaky rough voice so dear to him, she said: “I thought if I left and took my love with me you could live a happier life.”
Fakir reached out slowly for her hands, and their fingertips touched, trembled against each other. Then they were gripping tightly together, unable to let go. Ahiru kissed him first because she’d gotten so good at going forward, determined, Fakir her final destination. Words were never her strong point in communicating anyway, and she pushed up hard onto her toes, like she trying for pointe, and pressed her mouth hungry and relieved against his.
“I missed you,” Fakir said when they drew back. Rain began to fall, but they were content to share their warmth and stand through it. “Try not to be so stupid next time, would you?”
Ahiru wrapped her arms around him, laughed brokenly against his neck. Pressed her cheek against his and didn’t mention when she felt warm tears mingled with the cold rain. “I wouldn’t have to be stupid,” she told him, “if you weren’t so ridiculous. Jerk.”
It made him laugh, and Ahiru closed her eyes and just listened to the most beautiful sound in the world. And then he proved her wrong by saying her name in that warm low voice, and it was possibly the most glorious moment that ever existed, because he smiled down at her with the rain making his bangs hang messy in his strong face, and his hand was held out in that special way for her to take.
“Ahiru,” he said, legs shifting, body moving tenderly, “Will you dance with me?”
Ahiru couldn’t stop smiling at him; she wasn’t Tutu, and she wasn’t a duck. She was a girl in love with a boy who loved her just the same. Their hands met, a gentle touch that said more than words. Together they danced, the rain falling down around them, filled with a joy greater than a storybook could ever claim to tell.