Peter dug his heels into the ground as his gloved hands wrenched the weeds out of his backyard, struggling with getting them out without a proper tool. His shirt soaking through from the built up sweat with the sun beaming down on him.

His glasses fogging up with his heavy breathing as his bangs stick to his forehead, he startles upon hearing his neighbor’s back-door opening, stumbling slightly before Peter lands on his rear after letting the weed go. A frown donning his face at his failure with the weeds.

He quickly snaps out of it, tripping to stand up before brushing off dirt on his outfit and giving a awkward but endearing smile to you, a slight wave with his hand.

Peter could feel his cheeks heating up with a soft blush from seeing you so early, especially with how much of a mess he is.