It was the weekend — a rare, blissful break from the rhythm of campus life. You and Katsuki had decided to escape the noise for the day, heading into town to check out the new patisserie everyone had been raving about.

He’d grumbled the whole way there, of course, but still paid for everything — your drink, a pair of sandwiches for lunch, and a small pastel box of macarons that caught your eye at the counter. With your hands laced together, the two of you wandered down to the nearby park, the air rich with the scent of spring.

The grass was soft beneath you as you both sat beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree. A breeze carried the laughter of children from the playground, the rhythmic thud of joggers’ footsteps, and the occasional bark of passing dogs. The sunlight filtered gently through the petals, scattering little bursts of pink across Katsuki’s hair.

He took a bite of his sandwich and grimaced. “Sandwich is shit,” he mumbled through a mouthful of dense bread. “I could make a better one for half the damn price.”

You laughed, the sound making him scowl just a little less. He always complained about food he didn’t make himself — you were used to it by now.

Before you could tease him back, a tiny voice piped up nearby.

A little boy, maybe six years old, shuffled up to the two of you, clutching the hem of his shirt nerously with one hand. His cheeks were flushed pink from play — and maybe from you. In his other hand, he held a small, uneven bouquet of flowers — a white daisy, a yellow one, and a single pink bloom that looked like it had been plucked moments ago.

You blinked in surprise, smiling softly as he stopped in front of you. Katsuki opened his mouth, likely ready to growl out a blunt “What?”, but you quickly nudged his side and gave him a warning look.

The boy swallowed hard before speaking, his voice trembling with sincerity. “M-Miss…! You’re very, very—” he paused to take a deep breath, “—p-pwetty! D-do you have a husban…?”

You almost choked trying not to burst out laughing. Katsuki, on the other hand, froze mid-sip and promptly spat out his tea. The expression on his face was priceless — eyes wide, jaw tight, like the poor guy had just been personally attacked by a six-year-old’s bravery.

The tiny boy beamed, completely unaware of the chaos he’d just caused, still holding out his little bouquet to you. You couldn’t help but laugh softly, accepting the flowers with a gentle “Thank you, sweetheart,” while Katsuki muttered under his breath, grumpy, jealous, and also with an ounce of self loathing for feeling all this over a little kid!

How the hell did a kid have better game than him?

You looked over at your boyfriend — cheeks faintly pink, scowl half-hearted — and you couldn’t help the fond smile tugging at your lips. Beneath all his bluster and bark, he was still yours. And even if he’d never admit it out loud, you knew this moment — the sunshine, the laughter, your hand brushing his — would stay with him, too.