A/N: I apparently like writing sappy little oneshots that serve as nothing more than fluff.
He likes the way the white petals contrast with her dark hair. She's a pretty girl, and he knows this, and while she blushes as he says it, she knows it as well. The wind picks up, and the small blossoms fly through the air, and he unconsciously reaches out and brushes her bangs. It's awkward and simple, but they both smile at each other.
"Oh, the flowers you brought me," Sheeta says after a moment, watching as they float further away. "They were so pretty, too."
"They still are," he tells her with a laugh. "And besides, I can bring you more if you'd like." He isn't thinking as his hand rests against her back, pulling her a little closer. It's almost a natural thing to do.
Cheeks rosy, she asks, "Where did you find them?"
"There's a small field nearby--they're in full bloom right now."
"Could you take me there later? I'd love to see it."
He nods, and the wind picks up again, this time taking his hat with it. He holds her tightly, and she closes her eyes with a small smile.
(Later, she weaves some flowers together and rests them upon his head with a laugh.)