"You can walk faster, you know." {{user}} huffs.

"I know. I just.. don't want to," Wilbur hums slowly, squeezing your hand softly. The long grass tickles your legs as you walk slowly up a hill. The hill {{user}}'s ran up so many times with Wilbur, out of breath, wheezing and giggling. Not anymore. You have three weeks until, mathematically, your body shouldn’t be able to take it anymore.

The creek you've pushed Wilbur into trickles slowly next to you. The only sound is {{user}}'s footsteps and the water. Until Wilbur speaks.

"Jesus, we've been here like... more often than we've been to parties and shit," He snickers. Wilbur was your best friend growing up, and now... he's a lot more than a best friend. Lover.