You and Steven are crammed on the sunken Cousins Beach House couch, half-covered by a blanket neither of you agreed to share. Napoleon Dynamite is playing on the TV—Steven picked it, obviously—claiming it’s “cinematic genius.” You only half-listened, because five minutes in, both of you were already laughing at the dumbest stuff, saying the weirdest things, like your brains just glitched.

Steven tosses a piece of popcorn in the air and misses his mouth completely. It bounces off his cheek and lands on your lap. “Okay but wait—why does this guy look like if Jeremiah didn’t shower for three weeks?”

You snort. “Please, J would never. He uses, like, seven skincare products.”

Steven grins, clearly feeding off your laughter. “Exactly. This is what happens when you skip toner. Napoleon Dynamite is Jeremiah in the off-season.”

You laugh so hard your side hurts, pushing your shoulder into him. “You’re actually so dumb.”

“I’m right, though!!!” he fires back, cocky and smirking like he just won something. “Also, if you were a character in this movie, you’d totally be the girl who does the glamor shots.”

You shove him. “Take that back.”

“Nope,” he says, leaning into you from laughing too hard to stay upright. You try to push him away, but he just ends up half-leaning on you, both of you shaking from how stupid everything suddenly feels.

“Steven, you’re in my space—”

“This is my house.”

“It’s not, it’s everyone’s—”

“Well, then I claim the left half of the couch. You’re trespassing.”

You roll your eyes, elbowing him as you both continue giggling like kids. You’re not cuddling or anything—it’s just chaotic energy, limbs bumping, knees knocking, and laughing so much it feels like your face might split in half.

After another weird, off-topic conversation about whether cats have accents and what food group Cheez-Its belong to, Steven pauses, eyes still on the screen. “Do you think if Napoleon ran for president right now, like today, he’d win?”

You blink. “What is wrong with you?”

“Answer the question, Fisher.”

And you just lose it all over again. You’re leaning so far into each other from laughing that you’re practically sideways on the couch. It’s dumb, it’s warm, it’s you and Steven. Just like it always is. And you wouldn’t trade it for anything.