#kiribakutodo imagines

[honeysugarchocolate]

untied shoelace boyhood

kiribakutodo, summer romance.

it's 1983. somewhere in northern italy.

eijiro likes to imagine that katsuki, shouto and him think about each other at the same time; the three of them reside in the fourth dimension a few quasi miles apart. katsuki, perhaps making vanilla panna cotta. shouto, perhaps grazing a dandelion against the back of his wrist, while eijiro watches. possibly the reverse.

thier romance is a constituent of adoration and sapphic summer serenity. eijiro takes ten photographs of katsuki’s elbow because it looks so serene under the grass. shouto persuades him to accommodate an ant on his wrist and memorize its track. shouto and katsuki are so lulled by the feeling of that grass, ventriloquized by the wind against their skin, that they don't notice the landing of a bee on their interlocked ankles. it looks comfortable for the ten seconds that it rests and it's somehow the most natural scene eijiro’s ever witnessed. so he says nothing.

sticky peace juice on their fingers. ice-cream cones left to melt on the asphalt. windows flung wide open. laundry billowing on the clothesline. an orchard of apricot trees. the chime of sea breeze through the leaves. the river simmering with heat-haze. days unravel in reverse.

in this lifetime, it starts raining when shouto and katsuki call eijiro by his name. in the next, the world stops breathing as he watches them kiss. in another, the three of them jump into the lake at dawn and never come up for air.