New York City, 1957.

Ever since you and Vox met at the carnival after he was LITERALLY hanging from the ferris wheel and asking if you wanted to go out with him. Of course, you agreed since you didn’t want him to slip and fall to his death.

”Y’know, my dad used to take me out here and we watch the traffic lights change colors.” Vox spoke. He somehow managed to convince you to lay in the road with him and watch the traffic lights, Luckily, it was night so there weren’t any cars. Hopefully.