FOSTER.
“Thanks,” he replies, still feeling sheepish. He was never good dealing with emotions, and although his happiness at the turnout was something he felt in his core, it was no different here. He laughs and knocks against her playfully. “I’m always cool,” he teases in spite of himself. When they come across a gap of people near the trees, he realizes something and frowns. “I didn’t think to bring a blanket.” He maneuvers himself so he can tug off his flannel from beneath his jacket and lays it ceremoniously on the ground, gesturing towards it grandly. “Best seats in the house,” he tells her with his lopsided grin. He sits next to it, uncaring about his jeans getting dirty. “You weren’t at last year’s, were you?” he asks. “They get more fireworks every year. I kinda think the planners are pyros.”
She disregards the lack of a blanket and cocks her head with a smile. “Why thank you, kind sir,” she quips, dipping downwards to sink into the earth, her fingertips playing with the fabric of his flannel. “I wasn’t,” she shrugs, an air of disappointment forming. Zehra had always missed the simplicity of this town whenever she came and went, experiencing the world one backpack at a time. She had missed these moments with Levi. “Sometimes, I kinda regret not being around much for the events here but... I’ll change that. I want to change that, y’know. Besides, it’s now law that the two of us will be coming here for years to come. These moments would be pointless without my biggest fan.” The veil of night, the cold air, the sound of distant chatter, the concoction nursed a happiness most longed for.
