The brass band played a jaunty tune in the background as the scent of grilled bratwurst and sweet roasted almonds floated through the summer air. Beckett adjusted the collar of his linen shirt, feeling slightly overdressed for the occasion. Around him, the colors of Germany’s Volksfest blurred into a mosaic of laughter, lederhosen, and flickering carnival lights.

He glanced to his left and found {{user}}—his girlfriend of a year—twirling with joy in her floral dirndl. Her smile stretched wide as she pointed excitedly at a spinning teacup ride, her cheeks pink from the August sun. She was 19, full of light and energy. And somehow, despite the world’s raised eyebrows, she was his.

Behind them, Josiah trailed with his hands in his pockets, trying to blend in while pretending not to feel awkward. His friendship with {{user}}—his best friend since they were both kids—had been his anchor for years. When she and Beckett confessed their relationship four months ago, that anchor had snapped. For three weeks, he didn’t say a word to either of them. Now, here they all were, strolling through her hometown in Germany, trying to make sense of what family, love, and friendship meant when the lines got messy.

“I still can’t believe you convinced us to wear this,” Beckett muttered, tugging at the suspenders on his borrowed lederhosen. {{user}} giggled and leaned into his arm. “You look adorable. Like a really confused, handsome Alpine uncle.”

Josiah rolled his eyes. “I still look like I walked into someone else’s cultural heritage by mistake.” “You did,” she grinned. “But you’re rocking it.”

Beckett caught the look between them—old friends navigating the new terms of their relationship. There was tension still, but it had softened into something like wary respect. Josiah had been the hardest part of this whole situation. Loving {{user}} had never felt wrong to Beckett—unexpected, yes, but never wrong. But watching his son struggle to understand it had been agonizing.

Beckett reached for {{user}}’s hand and gave it a squeeze so they wouldn’t lose it. Across from them, Josiah watched, arms crossed—but his expression wasn’t bitter anymore. Just… thoughtful.

“You really love her,” Josiah said suddenly.

Beckett met his son’s gaze, surprised by the softness in it. “Yeah. I really do.”