≈ blue harbor bus station, 5th august 2024. with @just-foster
The week had been…well, everything Phoebe needed, honestly. Though there were a few people at the retreat, it had been a mostly isolated affair, which seemed to work for her. No distractions — virtual or in real life — and she managed to write. She had thought packing two thick journals was ambitious, but both were filled with a variety of notes, chapter outlines and short stories; her laptop having at least one final piece on there, even if it was a rough draft.
But her heart had ached for home. For Linc’s gentle smile, and Seb’s penchant for trouble. And Misty swiping at her ankles as she watched TV with Foster…Foster. Her heart ached for him most of all. It had been tough, a week without him, as embarrassing as that sounded. The first night — with no Instagram to scroll until her eyes grew heavy, or TikTok to provide much needed noise to fill the silence, or chefs complaining that she had taken his share of blankets again — it had been hard to fall asleep. Being active both mentally and physically the next few days really helped, but nothing quite like falling asleep at home.
Foster and their bed. The two loves of her life.
She had just stepped off the bus, noticing him standing for her under the outdoor shelter, and had barely grabbed her bags when she was swept up in a embrace, feet momentarily losing contact with the floor. “Oh my God, hi! Hey!” She squealed, letting out a laugh at how delighted she was at such an enthusiastic greeting. “Hey.” Phoebe repeated, stroking through Foster’s blonde curls. “You okay? You’re kinda squishing me.” She confessed, hoping that her boyfriend was just really happy to see her, and something serious hadn’t occurred in her absence that made him feel the need to showcase extra affection to soften the blow.