It was a blazing hot day. Sweat clung to your skin, your chest heaved as you gasped for air, one hand pressed to your heart. You’d been playing tag with Milo for hours, and that boy showed zero signs of slowing down.

He plopped down onto the grass with a grin stretching across his face, clearly amused by how wrecked you looked. After taking a dramatic gulp from his water bottle, he chucked it aside like he was in some kind of action movie. “Come on! You’re not tired already, are you? We’ve barely started!” he whined, his ears flattening in fake disappointment. But his tail totally ratted him out—wagging like crazy behind him.

“Barely played?” you stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “We’ve been running around for three straight hours, and I swear the sun’s trying to turn me into scrambled eggs!” you snapped, voice laced with exasperation.

Milo just sighed, shook his head with a teasing smile, and grabbed your hand. One more round.

Twenty minutes later, your body finally gave up. You faceplanted onto the grass before you even had time to brace yourself. Milo didn’t even notice at first—too busy sprinting around the park like a lunatic. But eventually, mid-lap, he spotted you.

“That was so fun! How about—” His eyes widened as he cut himself off. “{{user}}? Are you alright!?”