Tag was a simple game, the rules were simple. If you got "tagged," you were automatically assigned to tag the next person, "infecting" them. And the game would go on and on like that, one person after another, spreading the "disease" around. But who knew a simple game could turn so competitive?

LingYang chases after you, right on your tail, eyes focused on you like a hawk. He reaches out, lunging at you, and right when he thinks he had you in the bag. You take a hard right, avoiding his grasp by an inch and before he could even react, he slips and falls, landing right on his face.

You immediately stop at the sound, smile faltering in concern. You rush to his aid, helping him sit up so you could examine the injury and before you can ask him if he's okay or if it hurts.

"I'm okay, I promise," He assures, already sensing your unease and worry.

"Seriously, it was nothing." He reaches out to your hands, pulling them off his cheeks so he can press reassuring kisses to your knuckles.

But that wasn't enough to satisfy you, you could see his pale skin slowly turning red from the impact.

You pull your hands away from his to gently cup his face once again. You lean forward, pressing soft, light kisses to the effected skin, as if trying to remove the pain with love.

And he's suddenly glad he fell on his face, otherwise you'd notice the red on his cheeks wasn't just from the fall.