Heartbeats [ON HOLD]

six | honey

✧❀ honey ❀✧

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☽

Medha is having a crisis.

She's having a crisis and she doesn't know what to do and she doesn't know where to put all the feelings she's feeling and she's having a crisis.

A small part of her wants to believe that her crisis isn't about the girl she's been spending all her time with— right from waking up at the crack of dawn and laying on grass under the blazing sun and pointing out the clouds that resemble Nutmeg, all the way down to spending nights under the same skies and explaining each constellation in detail to her—, but the bigger, more sensible part of her knows that her crisis, is, in fact, about Noor.

Quietly humming, she undoes the ribbon from her hair, shoving it into her dress pocket and crashing onto the grass under her, sprawling out with her cheek pressed against the soft blades of grass.

There really isn't a logical explanation for why she's having a crisis. There isn't a single reason for her to be questioning herself and her thoughts and her entire being, but she just is. And she can't seem to do anything about it.

Whistling to herself, she sinks further into the grass, staring up at the afternoon sky with the sun beating down on her face, and she just sighs.

Sighs for all the thoughts she's overthinking, sighs for all the opportunities she's missing out on right now by overthinking, sighs for the lavender tea that she could be sharing with Noor right now if she hadn't refused her offer yesterday because she was afraid of what the pounding in her chest meant.

Noor is... everything Medha's ever wanted to know. She's a curious person by nature, always looking for something to relieve her itch to know, but Noor is all of that and more. Noor is an enigma and Noor is beautiful and Noor is the answer to all her curiosities, because when she's around Noor, she doesn't need to know so much anymore. She just needs to be.

And Noor understands.

She understands her curiosity for things that others don't find the least bit fascinating, she understands her need to talk about everything she's even mildly interested in, she even understands her hate for the fancy letters that her name is written in on the door to her house.

Medha knows she understands because she saw it the other day, on their picnic, when she had to leave because of the crowds and the people and the overwhelm, and Noor was right there with her in an instant, and Medha knows she understands because she saw it when she visited Noor and Nutmeg jumped on her and the sheer concern for her on Noor's face was almost comical if it wasn't so sweet, and Medha knows she understands because she caught a peek of a sketch tucked under her tablecloth, one that looked suspiciously like her name, but in a different font.

So she doesn't know why she's in a dilemma right now.

Except that she does.

Liking someone is scary. It's a terrifying feeling for anyone, but it's especially terrifying for Medha because it's never happened before.

She's never met someone who has a laugh that sounds like a thousand rays of sun glistening on a lake, who has a smile that looks like the sun from which those rays fell, who has a personality that's softer than freshly-mowed grass.