Heartbeats [ON HOLD]

seven | peace

✧❀ peace ❀✧

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☽

Medha was under the assumption that meeting Noor today would be scary, or maybe even the slightest bit nerve-wracking considering she intends on baring her entire soul to her, but once she reaches Noor's house and finds that she's replaced the fancy script on her door for a much simpler font to read, all her worries instantly flood out of her.

She really did it. She changed the font for her.

Sure, it's still difficult to read it— most things are— but just the knowledge of Noor changing the sign on her door for her makes Medha's heart melt into a puddle.

She can't remember the last time anyone did anything specifically for her. To suit her needs. To make the world a simpler place to live for her.

And now, someone has done it. Coincidentally the same someone whom Medha has fallen head over heels for.

"I can do this," she mutters to herself, before repeating it in her head like a prayer, but she doesn't quite know who she's praying to. She just knows what she's praying for.

Noor to not laugh in her face. Noor to reciprocate her feelings. Noor to understand that she's never done a relationship— a relationship?— before, that she's never had a crush before, that she's never been so enraptured by someone as she is with her.

Noor to accept her.

All her quirks, all her days spent on fields, all her nights spent twirling her hair or humming or whistling for no apparent reason other than it makes her feel good, just... all of her.

Inhaling sharply, she raises her fist up to Noor's front door, poised to knock at it as the words, I can do this ceaselessly drum away at her brain— and she's so close to knocking, until the door swings open, only to reveal Noor.

And Medha doesn't know if it's even possible, but Noor seems to have gotten more beautiful since the last time they met.

Contrary to most days, today, there's no jewellery adorning her fingers, Medha realises, and quickly, she also realises that Noor, though stepping out of the house, is dressed for comfort.

God, if only the words that Medha has been repeating to herself for over twenty four hours would leave her mouth now.

Speak, her brain tells her, practically yells at her. You can just say it. Noor would be the last person to judge you, you can just—

"Medha, you're staring," is the first thing that Noor says to her, effectively knocking her out of her daze and cutting short her spiralling thought process. "Also, hi! I was just heading out, actually! Not anywhere special, just my backyard because I wanted to read for a little bit. Nutmeg's been sleeping all day— I hate to admit it, but I'm severely fond of the gremlin and I get painfully bored without her to entertain me. Sorry, I'm rambling, I've just been thinking about you all day. And yesterday. I think about you a lot." Interrupting herself with a laugh and a shake of her head, Noor grins brightly at Medha. "Anyway, what brings you to my home? Not that I mind, of course! You're welcome any time."

Again, Medha can't find it in herself to reply.

This time, it isn't because her mouth is lagging or because her brain refuses to co-operate with her.

This time, it's solely because of the I've been thinking about you all day.

'Me too,' Medha wants to say until Noor understands just how desperately she's been thinking about her and her kindness and her hands and her smile and her laugh and her laugh and her laugh.