You and Miles are childhood friends, ever since you were young he's got you wrapped up in whatever new hobbies and interests he'd acquire.

For example, when you started first grade, he was obsessed with Hot Wheels and cars. Recess consisted of watching him trade cars under the slide and show off his new ones like it was an underground market.

In third grade, he really got into superheroes. He'd leave little figurines around your room whenever he came over, you even still own a poster he put up for some tiny man named after an ant or something like that.

In seventh grade, it was music. Walks to school where you'd share airpods would be filled with chill lofi music, but his soft humming made it much more bearable.

And art was another one of those things.

While you never seemed to get a hand of it, no matter how much he tried to teach you, at least you had better luck with skating.

"Cover your nose, this is gonna smell like caca," Miles mutters, eyes glued to the back of your new board as he shook his spray can. Like a ballerina broke in her new ballet shoes, you brought your new board to your best friend for some "spiffying" up.