It was one of those rare, perfect Saturdays at U.A.—no training, no patrols, no midnight alarms. Just lazy sunlight filtering through the curtains and the low buzz of music coming from Sero’s speaker as he laid sprawled across the floor, back against his bed, controller in hand.

You were curled up on one end of his couch, nursing a cold drink and watching him completely dominate Kirishima in a racing game. When Kirishima rage-quit over group chat, Sero just laughed, tossing the controller onto his bed.

“Dude’s all muscle, zero reflexes,” he said, flashing that relaxed, toothy grin your way.