"that's porn." 

"they're just kissing, mom." tadashi slaps his forehead lightly in frustration. if hearing his mom babble about the movie was bad enough, hearing her complain about trivial matters is ten time worse. 

"no they aren't. ugh. i can imagine their tongues in each other's mouths." anko shudders, her fingers resting on the t.v remote, ready to switch channels if the characters take it further. tadashi nabs the remote out of her hand, his eyes sparkling happiness. 

"i'm a senior." 

"no you aren't." she turns her head away from her insolent child. her index finger pokes tadashi's forehead, eliciting a complaint from the boy. the doorbell rings, it's noise resounding across the pink walls. he winces, getting up from the couch and sprinting towards the door. frustration paints an opaque shade on his face. 

family night is for family. and that doorbell means someone interrupting the few moments that anko is not spending 12 hours on her work site. 

he opens the door. 

"what are you doing here?" tadashi's voice is somewhat bitter. 

iwazumi makes an appearance. a windbreaker is worn above the same varsity sweater tadashi sees him in everyday. his hair is fluffed up by the winds embrace. tadashi himself can also feel the winds bite. icy and cold. iwaizumi's lips are framed with a cunning grin, no, a smirk. tadashi can feel himself clench. 

"don't worry princess, i'm here to give you this." iwaizumi hands tadashi a stack of papers. tadashi perceives that the papers include all the notes that he forced the taller boy to write. 

"tadashi, who's at the door?" anko appears from behind tadashi, her hands on her hips. tadashi can sense the plan brewing in her one track mind. he fears for what comes next.

"he's-" 

"i'm iwaizumi." tadashi cringes as iwaizumi-san rushes to give his hand for a shake. anko immediately takes the bait. 

"well, iwaizumi, we have popcorn. come on in." 

tadashi groans directly at his mother with all the anger he could ever muster in his little body. anko, of course, pretends it was the wind whispering irrelevance to her. she wipes her hands on the white apron draped on her waist and starts strutting towards the kitchen. she seems so happy, tadashi hates it.

"well, what movie we watching?" iwaizumi takes off the white converse flecked with slight spots of mud. tadashi leads him into the living room, where his anxious thoughts start to swirl.