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There were flowers in her hair.
It was probably Nilou’s doing. Or maybe Kaveh’s. The pale blue of a padisarah and the golden yellow of a nilotpala lotus shining against the dark brown of her hair, the fresh blooms tucked into the braid behind her ear. Alhaitham couldn’t help but stare, tucked away in the shadows of a vendor’s tent, away from the noise and bustle of the newly re-imagined Sabzeruz Festival.
Gone were the days where people celebrated the birth of their Archon in secret, tucked out of sight of the corrupt sages. Now, in recognition of Lord Kusanali’s freedom and integration with Sumeru, people from all over the nation gathered to celebrate, filling the capital city with beautiful decorations, music, and laughter. His roommate had scoffed at him, dragging him out of the house that morning and down to the Bazaar with a laugh, saying that everyone had a duty to participate, especially the Acting Grand Sage. Alhaitham had sighed and resigned himself to a day of watching and observing those around him instead of actively participating.
That was until he spotted Dehya, mingling with the crowds surrounding the performers from the theatre. He hadn’t even realized that he had stopped walking until Kaveh yanked on his arm, confused on why he had suddenly fallen behind. When he shook his head, confused and dazed all of a sudden, Kaveh followed his gaze and, when he spotted Dehya himself, laughed out loud and punched his shoulder playfully. Alhaitham vaguely remembers the architect telling him to “go get her” or something along those lines, but the noise of the festival combined with the buzzing of his thoughts made the statement almost inaudible. Kaveh had left him on his own after that, laughing to himself as he melted into the crowd, and Alhaitham had quickly moved into the shadows, not wanting to draw attention to himself as he stared, unable to drag his gaze away from Dehya.
And the flowers in her hair.
His fingers twitch, curled into fists at his sides. A burning feeling of need curls in his gut, wanting nothing more than to thread his hands into her hair, caressing the soft petals of the flowers as he presses soft kisses against her cheek. His cheeks burn with embarrassment, the truth of his infatuation with the Eremite not something he shows in public.
Suddenly, Alhaitham feels like he needs to escape, to hide his feelings away so that no one else notices his lapse in his usual personality. He turns, frantically looking for a way to get out, but he finds that the crowds of people have swelled behind him, blocking his routes to the exits. It would cause an even bigger commotion and draw even more attention to himself if he were to push his way through the audience.
His breathing turns to panicked gasps and his heart pounds in his chest, reminding him not only of his anxiety of being around large crowds, but of his feelings towards the woman now somewhere behind him. Alhaitham frantically turns a dial on his music device up, trying to block out the noise, and closes his eyes, hoping that he can put some mental distance between himself and everyone else.
The seconds crawl by, but by taking some deep breaths and focusing on the white noise in his earpieces, he manages to calm down.
That is, until a hand wraps itself around his arm, firm but gentle at the same time.
Teal eyes fly open and Alhaitham whips his head around to spot who had grabbed onto him, only to find his breath caught in his throat.
Dehya.
“Hey, are you ok? You look kinda pale…” Her voice is clear enough to pierce through the noise cancellation of his earpieces, and filled with concern. He manages to nod his head in response, still too tongue tied around her to say anything. Her ocean blue eyes brighten as she smiles at him. “That’s good, I was worried when Kaveh said that you got lost in the crowd and didn’t make it up to the area by the stage with the rest of us. I came looking for you to make sure you made it up to a quieter spot.”
“Th… thanks,” he murmurs, feeling his anxieties fade as he drowns in her shining eyes, feels her hand snugly holding onto his arm, focuses on the flowers tucked into her braid. The itch in his fingers returns, aching to touch her hair, to feel how soft it is.
He doesn’t hold back this time, he doesn’t run.
Alhaitham lifts his hand, the one that she doesn’t hold tightly, and gently tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing the edge of the padisarah. The strands are just as soft as he imagined they would be, sliding through his fingers like silk.
She watches him with wide eyes, her mouth open slightly. The grip on his arm tightens instead of pulling away, and Dehya instead takes another half step closer towards him.
“These flowers really are beautiful,” he whispers, low enough that only she can hear his words. “Just like you…”
Dehya chuckles, turning her head to the side so his fingers slip deeper into her hair. “Oh stop it, you charmer,” she mumbles, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You just wanted to touch my hair.”
“Ah… yes,” Alhaitham replies shyly, his cheeks turning warm once again. “Seems like I’ve been caught…”
“You’re not exactly subtle, you know?” Dehya turns up a corner of her mouth in a smirk. “I’ve seen how you look at me when you think I don’t notice…”
“Then you know that I find you fascinating,” he mumbles, continuing to caress her hair as he stares into her eyes. “That, along with being the most beautiful woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting…”
Dehya laughs, but it’s half hearted at best. “Oh come on now, next to someone like Nilou I look like a sun baked rishboland tiger and even around your roommate I’m left in the dust in the beauty department.”
Alhaitham shakes his head. “No, there’s no one else that makes me feel like this, and you do it because you’re you. Strong, brave, devoted, and so very very beautiful.” He takes a chance then, leaning forward ever so slightly, and whispers another thought right against her parted lips.
“And I’d really like to kiss you right now, if that’s alright?”
Dehya gasps softly, a swift intake of air, but in the heartbeat that follows, she matches his movement, leaning forward and bringing their mouths together in a soft and gentle kiss that lasts only a heartbeat.
“Happy Sabzeruz Festival, Alhaitham,” Dehya whispers against his lips when they part. The smile she gives him is warm, and it melts away any fears he had regarding his feelings for her. He grins back at her, feeling his heart swell with happiness.
“Happy Sabzeruz Festival, Dehya.”
He slips his hand from her hair and twines his fingers with hers instead, and it’s like that, hand in hand, that they make their way through the crowd towards the stage and the rest of their friends, the petals of the flowers in her hair fluttering in the subtle breeze.