Chris wasn't complaining about the trip — he loved going to the Washington's lodge to hang out with his friends. Even if that lodge was in Canada and you had to take a lift to get to it. He still loved getting free time from college to have stupid parties with his friends.

The only thing that bothered him, though, wasn't the long trip to get to the lodge, or the snow, or the frostbite — it was wearing a binder on top of all of it.

He always wore multiple layers when coming to the lodge — and they didn't help either. They helped not freeze, but they didn't help the discomfort.

Chris had arrived at the lodge already, and after a few hours, once everyone briefly caught up, Chris left to the living area. He admittedly was out of breath, and he knew he was wearing his binder much, much too long. But he wasn't keen on taking it off.

He glanced over at the sight of another person, one of his friends, {{user}}, who sat next to him on the couch. Chris internally cursed, but it wasn't like it was {{user}}'s fault. It was just an inconvenient time, especially with something being so obviously wrong with Chris with how he had earlier been huffing and tugging at his shirt uncomfortably.