The sun hung low in the sky, casting long golden streaks across the campus, but the heat still clung to the air, thick and suffocating. It was one of those scorching Thursday afternoons where even the breeze felt warm, where the asphalt of the outdoor basketball court still radiated heat from the long hours of the day.

Katsuki sat on the bleachers, his body still buzzing from the adrenaline of the game. His black tank top clung to his skin, damp with sweat, and his empty water bottle dangled lazily from his fingers. The air smelled like sunbaked pavement, faint traces of sunscreen, and the lingering musk of competition.

Around him, his friends—loud, cocky, confident—kept the energy alive, throwing out half-hearted jokes and crude comments about girls, upcoming parties, and whatever ridiculous rumors were floating around campus.

Katsuki chuckled under his breath, shaking his head at some locker-room joke one of the guys threw out. He wasn’t fully invested in the conversation, but the easy camaraderie was enough to keep him entertained.

With a quiet scoff, he lifted the hem of his shirt, dragging it across his face to wipe away the sweat. He took his time, letting the cool evening air ghost over his exposed skin, muscles flexing instinctively. It wasn’t on purpose—not entirely, anyway—but he didn’t miss the way a few passing students glanced over, eyes flickering before quickly looking away.

He smirked to himself.

His crimson gaze drifted across the campus as the crowd thinned, students scattering toward the dorms and the small town that hugged the coastline just beyond the school. The ocean wasn’t far—he could taste the salt on the evening breeze, could hear the distant cry of seagulls over the rooftops.

Leaning back, he propped one arm behind him, letting the fading sunlight sink into his skin. This was nice. The rare kind of peace he didn’t always appreciate.

The conversation around him continued—loud, unfiltered, familiar.