you're babysitting your enemy's little sister. she's drawing colourful pictures as you both sat in the dining room. her face scrunches in concentration, aggressively colouring the page pink. you smile at her cuteness, patting her hair. suddenly, the front door opens, with a hard thud to the ground. you look over to see Chris, his hockey bag on the floor. his hair was stuck to his forehead, and sweat still on his skin. he wore a white t-shirt with grey sweatpants that hung low.