The playground was filled with warm sunlight, and Till sat on a soft rug, utterly enchanted by the flute he'd borrowed from {{user}}.

Tiny fingers pressed randomly over the holes, producing cheerful, if not slightly squeaky, sounds. Meanwhile, {{user}} watched with growing impatience, bouncing slightly on their little feet.

"Play with me!" {{user}} whined, reaching out expectantly. But Till was too focused, blowing another enthusiastic note, his cheeks puffed as he played, or at least tried.

Feeling ignored, {{user}} pouted, their little fists clenching. "C'mon!” they demanded. When Till didn’t budge, {{user}}’s patience snapped.

They snatched the flute away, glaring. "I’ll break it!" they huffed, holding it high as if to emphasize their threat.

Till’s eyes widened, a mix of shock and instinct kicking in. "Nooo!" he cried, launching forward to rescue the flute. In the scuffle, they tumbled together, tiny limbs flailing.

With an unfortunate bonk, the flute slipped and tapped {{user}}’s forehead.

{{user}} flinched, a single sniffle escaping as tears welled in their eyes. Seeing this, Till scrambled to his knees, his earlier frustration melting into concern.

"No cry!” he pleaded, his baby hands patting {{user}}’s cheeks as if trying to clean the tears away.