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"It'll be fun, trust me."
Oh, how she hated those words.
She couldn't even hear her voice anymore, her vocal cords straining against her throat and probably breaking out her voice when it fell out her lips. Her hands gripped the bar in front of them and his hand, surprisingly enduring the strong hold of her fingers and not even tightening with every fall and turn, his laugh sometimes hitching but not dying down.
She was grateful for it, though; it was the only thing holding her from focusing on the dizzying, sharp change of direction, on her stomach going upside down, on the red paint sticking to her palm, on the constant and continuous hit of her own hair in her face and shoulders. She actually regretted not accepting a braid from him before entering the ride.
"Allura."
She let her eyes open in squinting lines, frowning at the lack of wind against her face, and turned to him, finding him smirking knowingly at her.
"It's over, Allura," he laughed, deep and amused, his hand tightening briefly around her own.
She blinked, frowning deeper when she noticed his perfect black hair still in a braid and just a few untamed strands out of place. His eyes were glinting, more than it normally would. He looked good, just a bit wilder than he always is. And she's pretty sure her hair is a terrible mess of white curls and humidity.
"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice now more serious, and his hand went to her forehead, moving her bangs away from her face, "You screamed a lot."
She sighed, suddenly feeling shy, especially when the ride manager asked them loudly from the entrance if they could, please, get out of the seats for the other people to take a seat.
She doesn't know how she made her legs work to get her out of the ride, but she knows that the warm hand on the lower part of her back, keeping her steady while she stumbled to the tables in front of a food stand, helped a lot to calm her nerves. She didn't even go to check her appearance to the washrooms, knowing very well that now her hair was a full-blown cloud behind her, what was first an elegant hairstyle she had worked on for two hours before she could even think of making breakfast. She felt defeated by him and his idea of a date, as well as his beautifully braided hair even after the monstrous ride.
She sighed heavily, lifting up her face to the sky and letting her shoulders fall from her perfect posture. The sunlight over her skin slowly dissipated her thoughts, letting go her frustrations, and the sudden shadow over her made her frown.
“Everything okay?”
She opened her eyes, finding his face upside down, and blinked at him, not wanting to respond.
“Allura?”
Now he seemed concerned, and that gave her a tiny bit of satisfaction over her annoyance.
“Yes,” she answered, trying to sound serene, “I’m totally fine.”
He sighed, going to one of the sides of the table, seating on the chair closest to her instead of the one he had occupied before going for some drinks to the food stand. He stayed silent for a bit, eyeing both cups of refreshments between them, and she felt guilty, almost breaking the silence.
“I’m sorry.”
She startled, looking up at him and frowning when his eyes were still staring at the condensation on the cups.
“What?”
He shook his head, and brushed his fingers through the loose ends of his hair, those who fell over his face and framed it so charmingly, just before starting fidgeting with the end of his braid.
“I know you didn't like it- I mean, this,” he mumbled, his lips twitching to a brief scowl, “Is just…”
She stared, waiting for the explanation, and didn’t expect to see his cheeks start to blush to an even redder color than when they got out of the ride and she noticed he was flushed because of the ride. She wanted to make him blush even more.
“You have always put me in difficult situations before,” he shrugged, still not looking at her, “I understand you’re different from me in a lot of aspects and that you’ve always been in the luxurious circles of people.”
She blinked, totally aware that her position in the social classes were intimidating for some people. But him, too? She had already got a few heartbreaks because her partners preferred not to meddle with her kind, and when it was with someone from her social circles, they always made sure to point out she wasn’t what they thought. Sure, being the only daughter of the director of Altea University made up some expectations from people, but she was always mad that she was put over a pedestal by normal people and was a disappointment for the people on her level.
But him?
He never showed being intimidated or interested in her money and social class. He always tried to make sure she was comfortable with their group of friends and scolded whoever tried to be funny with her presence. He always smiled like she hanged up the stars in the sky and not like her dress was more expensive than the rent of his apartment. He was attentive and authentic, and she loved that about him. But hearing this made her stomach twist worse than when she was on the ride.
“I understand,” she said, swallowing up a scoff at the irony, and she stood up, threading her fingers through her hair uselessly to try and adjust it, “Thank you for the opportunity, though.”
His hand trapped her when she tried to step away, making her turn around to him again.
“Wait, where are you going?” He quickly asked, standing up too and refusing to let her hand go.
She stared at their linked hands and then up to his face.
“Home,” she shrugged, “You don't have to say it. I understand you don't want to see me anymore.”
She tried to walk away again, but a gentle tug made her stop and turn to him.
“What?” He said frowning, his confusion visible in his eyes, “I don't- I didn’t say that, Allura.”
She blinked, her lips tightening in a line.
“You were about to,” she said with obvious tone, “And I already told you: You don't have to say it.”
He mouthed for a bit, looking away as if he was searching for what he didn’t understand. But it was better like this for her; if he said it, it would be too painful. With him, it was the first time she felt like herself and not an attempt to fulfill expectations.
“I wasn’t going to say that,” he explained, blinking, “Why do you think I was going to say that?”
She stayed silent, baffled that she wasn’t right about what was happening, but she was relieved she wasn’t right in the first place.
“What I wanted to say is that I always see you in your element,” he scoffed softly, his smile appearing fleetingly, “And it’s always me who make a fool of himself in our dates because I don’t understand how things work in your world.”
She frowned deeply, remembering briefly when in one of their dates he looked so out of place in a fancy restaurant, his hands clumsily trying to follow her instructions and his messy black hair even more messy after his fingers passed over and over it. She didn’t consider it make a fool of himself. She was just focused on how adorable he looked.
“And I wanted, for the first time, see you lose your composure,” he admitted, shrugging, “I wanted to see you in a place where you didn’t know what to do or what was the etiquette rule. I wanted to see you be you.
She blinked, slowly comprehending. She loved seeing him out of place, because it was cute and charming watching him react to things he had never experienced before.
She understood. And now she felt stupid of thinking he wanted to break up with her.
“Oh.”
He heard him huff, his lips twist trying to contain a smirk.
“You still want to go home?” he asked softly, his thumb caressing the back of her hand with little circles.
“She tightened her lips and shook her head, taking a breath.
Yeah, maybe Keith wasn’t the type of guy everybody wanted to see with her. And yes, maybe their worlds were so different that that kind of contrasts were intimidating as surprising.
But she was in love. And even when there was a possibility that he would grow tired of her and her world, and she would end up with a heartbreak, she was happy by his side in that moment.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
She smiled at their entwined hands, and then rolled her eyes, putting together an act of annoyance.
“And was it necessary to make a fool of myself?” she doubted, scoffing.
He smirked, taking a step that she had taken away from him, and his free hand went to her hair, threading his fingers through the disheveled curls and putting some of it behind her ear.
“I don’t think you made a fool of yourself,” he commented, a laugh illuminating his voice, “Of course you were the one that screamed the most and everybody was watching us when we got down.”
Wait, really?
“But you looked adorable, Allura,” he justified, cradling her face in his hand, “You look adorable.”
She felt her blush climb up to her face at the little correction, and she shrugged just to try and dismiss it, squeezing his hand.
“You don’t have to lie,” she said, “I know my hair is a mess.”
He giggled, his eyes going up to the horrible, white could that she had as hair and his hand went through it carefully. His fingers caressed her scalp and the comforting sensation made her lean to him and be kissed in the forehead.
“Let me braid it.”