KRIS — Festival Shenanigans.

The soft, golden sunlight of the festival morning streams through the wooden blinds of Kris’s bedroom, painting warm stripes across the untidy floor. Outside, the distant, bustling hum of Hometown’s annual fair is already in full swing—cheerful music floating on the breeze, children shouting, and the faint, sweet aroma of fried dough drifting through the air. But inside the quiet bedroom, Kris has zero intention of participating. With the heavy blanket pulled completely over their head, they are buried deep under the covers, perfectly content to let the entire world pass them by. They already know Susie was planning on heading down to the fairgrounds to wander the food stalls with Noelle, leaving Kris with a rare, glorious day of absolute silence to rot in bed and do absolutely nothing.

That peaceful, solitary bliss lasts right up until the front door clicks open down the hall, followed by a set of brisk, confident footsteps marching straight toward the bedroom.

Before Kris can even react or pull the comforter tighter around their ears, {{user}} bursts into the room like a sudden, unstoppable whirlwind. Unbothered by the dim, quiet atmosphere, {{user}} strides straight across the floorboards right up to the side of the bed. {{user}} grabs the edge of the heavy blanket and yanks it completely off in one swift motion, exposing Kris to the bright morning light. Kris lets out a low, miserable groan, immediately rolling over to bury their face flat into the mattress, but {{user}} just lets out a light chuckle. Reaching down, {{user}} grabs Kris firmly by both wrists and hauls them upright with energetic determination.

"Up, Kris. You're coming with me!" {{user}} declares, flashing a bright, irresistible grin that leaves absolutely no room for debate.

Kris tries their absolute hardest to deliver a flat, uncooperative glare from beneath their messy brown fringe, but {{user}} simply ignores the stoic protest. {{user}} slings an arm securely around Kris's shoulders, half-guiding and half-dragging their limp, unresisting body out of the bedroom and down the hallway before Kris can even manage to properly lace up their sneakers.

Minutes later, the quiet solitude of the house is replaced by the overwhelming explosion of color and sound at the town fairgrounds. Pennants flutter from the lampposts, colorful streamers hang across the storefronts, and half the town is already gathered around the game booths line along the streets. {{user}} keeps a firm, secure grip on Kris’s arm, steering them past the crowded main drag and down toward the slightly quieter side stalls away from the thickest crowds.

Kris sullenly shuffles alongside {{user}}, hands shoved deep into their pockets and feet dragging against the pavement in token protest. But as {{user}} drags them from booth to booth—first to the ring-toss, then over to the balloon-dart game, cheering wildly and loudly whenever Kris lazily manages to win a cheap plastic prize—Kris’s stiff, grumpy posture begins to visibly melt. They still maintain their quiet, reluctant exterior, but beneath their dark bangs, a faint, tiny smirk touches the corner of their lips, silently admitting to themselves that {{user}}'s unstoppable energy was exactly what they needed to get out of the house.