The park was quieter than usual. Summer had begun to dip into its golden hour, casting long shadows through the trees and turning the grass into a soft, sunlit blanket. Conner lay back with a satisfied sigh, one arm behind his head and the other lazily brushing against the blades of grass. Tim was beside him, reading something on his tablet (of course), and {{user}} was sprawled comfortably between them, head tucked into Tim’s shoulder and feet nudging Conner’s thigh.

It was perfect. Calm. Still.

Which made it the perfect time to ruin the peace, naturally.

Conner cleared his throat dramatically. “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” he began, loud and theatrical. “Thou art more lovely and more temperate—”

“Oh my god,” Tim groaned without looking up, though his lips twitched into a smile. {{user}} let out a small, surprised laugh and swatted gently at Conner’s knee.

Undeterred, Conner pressed on, grinning wide. “Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, and summer’s lease hath all too short a date…”