Summer Breezes

Laptop Movies

Meeting a skateboarding dog I think was the peak of my life.
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The front door squeaked soulfully on rusting hinges, keys jingling as the screen door crashed shut, in its usual frantic sound. From the heart of the quiet home, childish bickering echoed.

"No dude, I guarantee you, just look it up." Kirishima tore off the crusts of his sandwich, handing the pieces to his friend through a broad, satisfied, smirk, plump with the knowledge that he was right.

"I'm not gonna looking it up, you do it." Katsuki scoffed, peanut butter smeared on the corner of his mouth.

"You're the one disputing me, I already know I'm right."

"Do you though?" The blond retorted playfully, realizing the peanut butter and quickly wiping it away.

"Eijiro, play nice, your friend is asking you a question." A high feminine voice interrupted, the slight vocal burnout lacing her voice masked by  low kitten heels clipping across the wood, her purse delicately shifting as she set it in a chair near the door.

"Yeah Eijiro." Katsuki smirked back, Kirishima rolled his eyes, shaking his head, trying to ignore a spreading smile as he pushed off the couch.

"Hi mom," poking his head around the corner, he greeted his mother a short woman with dark curls, dressed smartly in a navy blazer, youthful eyes glittering like the layers of uniquely mismatched jewelry boasting against her medium skin and blush colored blouse.

"Hey bud," Pressing a kiss on Kirishima's cheek, she waved to Bakugo, still on the couch, used to his common presence and trotted upstairs for a change of clothes. After receiving a few muffled announcements from his mother as she ascended the stairs, Kirishima returned to the couch, popping the last bite of sandwich in his mouth.

"Ei," Katsuki swiped his thumb against his tongue and wiped at the spot where Kirishima had received that peck, a sticky pink lipstick print clinging to Kirishima's skin, Kirishima scrunching his nose up as Katsuki scrubbed at his cheek. "Pulling away and scrunching your face up like a baby isn't making it easier." Katsuki grumbled, laser focused on the spot.

"Sorry."

"It stained, I'm not gonna be able to get it all." He resolved, leaning back into the couch, and taking a potato chip from Eijiro's plate. The redhead frowned his fingers drawing over the lipstick mark, still coming off slightly pinkish.

"Eh, it's fine."

They chatted on the couch for a while, about boring things like summer school work and the price of food, as the afternoon began to slow, growing warmer as the plump sun rolled down from its zenith. As the afternoon turned and the sky began to light up in a stunning neon sunset, Kirishima's step-mom arrived back with a car-full of groceries and they shuffled on random sandals left beside the doorway and began to bring in the bags, silently competing to see who could carry more at a time, grocery bags awkwardly covering the length of their arms, quickly managing to bring everything in.

As they put away the groceries, Kirishima found himself smiling, unsurprised that Katsuki never had to ask where anything went, dozens of days raiding the kitchen and fooling around sprouting some subconscious knowledge of the layout. After all the time they'd spent together, the lines of their lives had truly blurred, overlapping and mixing into one.  Pulling his eyes quickly back, Kirishima finished with the last of the groceries before the two padded upstairs to Eijiro's room.

Katsuki flopped onto the bed, shoving the unmade red comforter off to the side from where he always chose to lay, calmed to breath in the familiar soft laundry-scent Kirishima bore. He'd always liked this room—certainly not because of his friend's decorating abilities—it was homely and warm, a little disheveled but never messy or gross, and the window was poised so perfectly the sun always flowed through in gentle golden particles. It was a room so full of Kirishima in the way an old blanket wrapped around your skin, cozy tightness,a firm familiar grasp rather than a taut claustrophobia, and even without the framed pictures and lame posters not yet unpacked it kept the familiar happily worn look of many years of interests, phases and memories.