Benjamin didn’t care what his parents said about the festival ---- and they had a lot of opinions, for two people who traveled so much and never actually showed up to it ---- he loved it. Loved the flowers, loved the colors, loved the laughter and the music and the way everyone seemed to come together; envied, even, the people who exchanged arrangements and bouquets from the Blooming Hope Booth, eyes alight with love and, in some cases, bashfulness. Benjamin loved this time of year; and, quietly, wished he could stop time in this moment forever.
Which is why, perhaps, he managed to bump into someone lightly as he walked, eyes trailed on one of the bigger flower arcs, completely captivated. He stumbled slightly, then looked over at the other person, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry!” he apologized profusely. “Got distracted with the---” he made a lame gesture. “Flower things. So many flowers. And colors. Are you okay?” he asked.