Hans ran a hand through his hair as he stood outside Carly’s door with fresh flowers in hand. Something about Carly always brought him back. She didn’t want anything from him, or make him feel inferior, or demand things from him he couldn’t offer. She was, perhaps, the only person in his life he didn’t feel the need to be someone else around. But despite that, he’d still spent an embarrassingly long time getting ready for the festival, trying on different ensembles that looked good without looking like he’d tried. He had finally settled on dark jeans and a black button up shirt rolled up to his elbows and had spent more time than he cared to admit making different faces and poses in the mirror until he was really sold on the outfit.
All of him was ready to see this outfit she’d promised would rock his world and he grinned as he lifted his hand to knock on her door at exactly eight o’clock, just like he said he would.
@carly-weiss