The coast was still glowing with the last light of the day, the sky all honey-gold and washed-out pink, turning the world soft but sharp at the edges. The air smelled like salt and something electric, the kind of evening that felt like it might set your skin buzzing.

Bakugou stood near the railing, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely resting on the ledge beside a sweating glass of something fizzy. The condensation had made a little ring on the metal, catching droplets that reflected the sun like tiny stars. He looked like he’d been standing there a while, hair messy from the wind, eyes narrowed at the horizon as if daring it to move first.

When he finally turned toward you, the scowl was still there — but not quite as sharp as usual. His voice came low, almost lazy but still carrying that familiar bite.

— “Tch. Took you long enough. What, you stop to watch the damn sunset or something? Get over here already — feels like the day’s daring us to waste it.”