Katsuki arrived fourteen minutes early. Not because he was eager—but because being late would've given him something else to be irritated about.

He sat at the table with his back to the wall. His eyes swept the entrance every few seconds, jaw tight, arms crossed. A glass of water sat untouched in front of him.

He checked his phone once. Twice. A third time. No emergencies. No crises. Just a wall of unread notifications from his agency that he silenced without reading.

He exhaled through his nose.

The restaurant door swung open.

You stepped inside.