You had joined camp with your ex- of a boyfriend who had registered for you without consent. You showed up nonetheless, with a beaming smile.
Your ex of a boyfriend was a German; tough, demanding and haughty. He always had something - just something for his country, like - a nationalistic pride. Whenever you talk about (your native country), he'd tinker your temper about how Germany was waaaaaaaaay better; and worst - in so many repetitive ways.
Tonight was going to be the parting night, where the whole camp would have to sit amongst each other, look at each other and talk about how this camp for them. For you? Nothing but a disaster and a mess, or a simple blow of your mind.
And being absolutely honest, this breaking of a business had already taken half of your mind off every other thing in the world that are way more important.
Packing was a rigorous business; especially packing alone when you had unpacked four days ago with a partner. You tossed in your clothes, leaving the old habit of folding and being organized.
No one has time for that.
Tonight was the bonfire night. Also known as the sharing night. To share whatever and to speak whenever.
It is the bonfire night. Also known as the sharing night. To share whatever and to speak whenever.
People around the camp gathered around the glorious fire as it burned continuously with the spark of a match and firewood, enough to last a whole lively night.
"I'm Angela, I work as a secretary in England, where I was also born and raised. I was raised to join the similar occupation as my mother, whom was also a former secretary in a law firm. I'm twenty-five this year, and enjoying my single life."
"Do you plan to change that anytime soon?" A man in the corner bursted out.
"No, and I'm happy with it."
Angela spun the bottle, and it landed on the blonde German, who seemed extremely reluctant in sharing his personal life with the rest of the camp.
"I-I'm Ludwig, I work as - I don't want to enclose that. I am twenty-two this year, and I just broke up with my girlfriend," coos and sympathy from the audiences could be heard, as his blue eyes look into yours with a hint of linger. "I was born and raised in Germany, and know nothing more of the outer world - as I was told to be nationalistic all my life."
"Do you still love your girlfriend, Ludwig?"
"I do, I really do." His beautiful blue eyes shut itself, as if to remember all the memories that were made between the two that were meant to be.
"Then why not tell her?"
"I not only want to tell her that I still love her," he turn to you as the audience gasp at the twist of plot. "I want her to marry me; this arrogant, nationalistic, and know-it-all of a man."
Ludwig stood up to walk to you. "What are you doing..." Harsh words were the only thing to cover those tears that were already ready to flow.
"(F/N) (L/N), will you marry me?"
"No, no..." The audience began to shout the opposition of your contrasting words.
You shook your head, wiping your tears away. You'd never expect him to do this much for you, kneeling down on his knee in front of everyone, bringing his pride to death.
"Yes, Ludwig. Did you really have to ask?"
"I did," Ludwig replied as he slip on the ring onto your finger, placing a kiss on your lips transiently. "How would I know you'd want to marry an organized, arrogant person like me?"
"Did you know how unorganized my suitcase is?"
"I'm watching you fix that."
You pulled him into another kiss as the audience was tossed in applause.