Heartbeats [ON HOLD]

five | constellations

✧❀ constellations ❀✧

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☽

I'm not going to steal. I'm not going to steal. I'm not going to steal.

Sighing, Medha lets her eyes drop to the grass under her sandalled feet as another minute passes with her attempting to hold herself back from stealing the bright yellow flower that's fallen out of the bushes a mere two feet away.

To be fair, it isn't her fault that she's automatically attracted to colour, to vibrancy, to bright. And it certainly isn't her fault that Noor's garden is all of those things at once, with its vivid blue flowers and its dew-covered blades of grass and its bees that sit on pollen and it's everything.

Still, it's Noor's garden and she knows better than to take flowers from it, fallen or not. God knows how awful she, herself, would feel if someone showed up to her house and began to rip out all her lilies from the soil.

She would make an exception if it were Noor— Noor would probably make an extra effort to be as gentle as possible, as if she were handling a baby animal rather than a plant. But to Medha, those two are almost the same things, really.

Though, she wouldn't be plucking the flower, it's already on the grass. She'd just be… taking it.

No. No taking anything else from Noor's garden. It's probably strategically placed there or something, it's probably lying there on the ground for a reason.

Again, she sighs, gaze shifting from the grass to the rising sun behind the hills that serve as a backdrop to Farmond, the soft dove grey shifting into a pale blue, pinks and purples erupting behind it, and normally, she would be more entranced by it— after all, nothing makes her happier than the certainty of knowing that the sun will rise every morning— but today, when Noor steps out of her house, she finds that she may have found something more entrancing than the sunrise.

"You're here!" Noor exclaims as she makes her way over to Medha, but pausing briefly to bend down and pick up the same flower that she's been eyeing. "I'm sorry I'm late, I was saying my prayers," she says with a smile, the dusted glow on her cheeks almost melting Medha into a puddle of God-knows-what.

"That's— that's okay," Medha stutters out. "You look… so unbelievably pretty."

It's confusing— she can tell Noor that she looks pretty without mortification flooding her entire system because she's always been able to tell people that they're beautiful, but if she even thinks about telling her that she's the most beautiful person she's ever laid her eyes on, she clams up and sweat begins to pool at her elbows and knees.

Grinning— God, grant me the strength to get through today without swooning—, Noor hums softly, and before Medha knows it, she's reaching over with the flower in her hand and tucking it under her straw hat, behind her ear. "So do you— but that's all the time." God, you aren't helping. "I like your hat."

It takes a while for Medha to answer. Partially because she's still trying to figure out how to take a compliment from the nicest girl she's ever known, but mainly because her mind and heart and lungs and body are catching up to the feeling of Noor's fingers brushing against the back of her ear.

She should have known that Noor would have the softest fingers, a part of her did know, but she's still surprised.

And she's a lot of other feelings too.

"I made it myself!" she chirps once she's sure she isn't about to blurt out something that she'll live to regret, fighting back the blush that's threatening to heat up her cheeks, but she's never been that much of a fighter. "I also made the kurta I'm wearing, and also the—" Cutting herself off with a small gasp, she holds up the picnic basket in her hand and says, "Oh, I made food! There's sandwiches, lemonade, cinnamon buns, watermelons— I don't know why, but that's my favourite food. Can eat a whole watermelon in one go, if I'm being honest." She pauses, shaking her head and giving Noor an apologetic smile. "Sorry, you just said that you liked my hat, and I—"