After flying the kite, they quickly got out of the Sun Gardens. They had already spent more than an hour there, and they still had places to check out. Since they'd come out in disguises and without a proper entourage, they could only be gone for a few hours.
They reached the plaza. It was crowded—more so because of the festival. This was the heart of the capital, after all. The wide space was full of performers, street plays, and sellers shouting over each other.
At first, the color and noise was distracting, almost overwhelming Elliott's senses. But after a while, he realized just how hot he'd gotten. In the gardens, the trees had offered plenty of shade, so the sun hadn't felt unbearable. Now, under the thick cloaks, in the middle of an open plaza packed with bodies, Elliott was suddenly, painfully aware of the heat.
And the crowd—he hated it. Every jostle, every accidental brush against someone made his sweat-soaked skin prickle, made him want to peel his own flesh off and hang it to dry.
Aiden noticed. Of course he did.
"Are you uncomfortable?" he asked, leaning down so only Elliott could hear.
Elliott sighed, tugging the collar of his cloak forward to let some air in. "Just a little hot. And tired."
Aiden hummed in understanding, concern flickering in his gaze.
"You want to sit down? Or... we can return now."
Elliott shook his head. "No. Not that bad." He tried to smile reassuringly. "I'm fine, don't worry."
On the surface, Aiden nodded. Elliott thought that was the end of it.
It wasn't.
Aiden, as it turns out, was not deceived by the smile. One look at Elliott's flushed face told him everything. The dark cloaks were a problem, but they couldn't just take them off without exposing their identities.
As Elliott turned his head to glance at something in the crowd, Aiden slipped away without a word. One blink, and he was gone, swallowed by the sea of people.
Elliott froze, blinking, feeling momentarily abandoned—until Aiden reappeared, holding a parasol.
Elliott could only stare. "You—what—... Where did you even get that from."
He laughed in disbelief. Aiden had been gone for maybe two seconds. There weren't even parasol sellers in sight.
Aiden only shrugged, as if it were nothing. The parasol wasn't one of the frilly, lace-trimmed ones noble ladies carried for decoration. This was practical—sturdy canvas stretched over dark wood, wide enough to shade one person comfortably, but not quite enough for two.
Without a word, Aiden opened it and held it over Elliott's head, angling it so he was completely shielded from the sun.
"You're not in the shade," Elliott pointed out.
"It's fine," Aiden said.
Elliott didn't buy it.
"Aiden." He eyed the parasol, then the patch of shade it cast. "Why didn't you get two?"
"They didn't have two left. A lot of people were buying them—it is a rather hot day," Aiden said smoothly.
A complete lie. The shop had plenty.
Elliott narrowed his eyes. "I see. And they didn't have a wider one either? One that could cover two people properly?"
"No," Aiden replied without missing a beat. "The demand for parasols this season is much greater than the supply."
He sounded like a seasoned merchant lamenting trade shortages.
Another lie. He had deliberately chosen this size, anticipating a very specific outcome—and judging by the thoughtful look on Elliott's face, the plan was working.
"Then... just come here." Elliott stepped right beside him, their arms brushing. "If we walk side by side—" he shifted slightly closer, "—we're both in the shade. Right?"
Aiden's throat went dry. "Mhm. Both in shade." He kept his voice casual, but inside, he was reeling.
Elliott, for his part, was too busy hiding his own flushed cheeks to notice. And this time, it wasn't from the sun. Even he—oblivious as he could be—was acutely aware of how it felt.
They walked, side by side, the parasol between them. Elliott's hand curled tightly around Aiden's arm. The shade fell over them like a small, private canopy, cutting them off from the press of the crowd.
It felt like—
"...Couples," Elliott blurted.
Aiden's grip on the parasol tightened. "...What?"
"This, I mean—" Elliott gestured vaguely between them. "You know. The parasol thing. It feels like... a couple thing. Something couples do." His words started tumbling faster. "But we're not, you know, a couple. We're... friends. Really good friends."
Aiden's ears turned red. "Don't make it weird. It's just shade."
"Romantic shade," Elliott teased.
"Functional shade. Not getting sunburned isn't romantic."
"You're deflecting," Elliott said, grinning now.
"You're delusional," Aiden shot back, rolling his eyes. But his voice was far too fond to match the words.