@bokumonoexchange
He had seen all manner of festivals in his travels. Cooking festivals, horse races, livestock shows, and dozens of New Year's and summer celebration iterations. While the events were fun, the crowd and press of people were often too much. He much preferred simple one-on-one conversations rather than tracking multiple speakers at once. Gustafa often found himself unintentionally listening to other conversations nearby rather than focusing on the one he should be listening to.
The musician had no plans to participate in Forget-Me-Not Valley’s fireworks show. The town here was smaller and quieter than others, but as he aged, the man enjoyed his peace more and more. Gustafa stood in his yurt, observing his collection of instruments. Which would be the best to usher in the warmth and freedom of summer? Timid knocks on the door broke Gustafa’s focus causing the man to frown in thought briefly. It wasn’t often he had visitors. Curious, he swung the door open, causing the new farmer to jump in surprise.
“Hey, what’s up?” he pleasantly greeted. His interactions with you in the past month were brief. Gustafa couldn’t figure out why you might be on his doorstep, but he could sense the tension. Gustafa smiled gently as he patiently waited for you to collect yourself. He knew what it was like in a new place and was concerned about bothering neighbors.
“U-um, would you like to watch the fireworks with me? I-I know it’s last minute, so if you have plans already, it’s fine.”
Gustafa stood in shock for a moment. This wasn’t anything he had expected to be asked when he opened his door to find you. He meant to stay home and play instruments, only pausing to listen to the cracks and pops overhead before continuing. It wouldn’t hurt to participate, though, especially when you had worked up the courage to invite him. He stepped out of the yurt to your side, chirping, “Yeah, sounds groovy!”
He thought the fireworks would be it. After the show, you visited him more. You didn’t always talk; sometimes, you just stopped to listen as he played various instruments. He soon found himself waiting for you as he settled places to play. As you found him each time, excitement would surge through him. Thoughts of you begin to circle his mind, drowning out all other music. His attention focused on writing a song for you. Gustafa’s plans to leave the valley at summer’s end changed. Your song wasn’t finished, and he couldn’t leave without that done.
The weather cooled as trees changed their colors. Gustafa’s hands felt beyond slick, tightly wrapped around his glass at the Bluebird Bar as he asked you to join him for stargazing. He hid his relief behind a wide smile as he led you from the bar. Holding your hand crossed his mind, but he quickly discarded the thought. What if you changed your mind about spending time with him when you felt how moist his hands were? As he played the final notes of your song, he wondered how much you remembered from the other parts. Did you piece together the message he carefully hid?
It didn’t seem you had. Nothing changed in the following days. If anything, as autumn changed to winter, you began to visit him less. Doubt swallowed Gustafa, leaving him as desolate as the bleak winter landscape. You were friendly with so many in town. Why did he think there was something special with him over everyone else?
“Gustafa!” you caught him at his door after the Starlight Concert. “W-would you marry me?”
Gustafa blinked in surprise at the blue feather in his face, obscuring his view of your blushing face. The feather trembled in your tight grasp as you anxiously awaited his response. He gently plucked the delicate proposal from your grasp before swooping in to plant a kiss. He couldn’t imagine living in solitude again after meeting you.
