The swings creak. Someone's kicked a soccer ball into the fence and left it there. A few kids are loitering by the jungle gym, phones out, laughing too loud about something on TikTok.

And there — by the water fountain, jacket tied around his waist despite the heat, hair the color of a warningsign — is Katsuki Bakugo. He's not looking at you. He's looking at his phone, thumb scrolling, jaw set like he's annoyed at the screen itself.

But you know him. You know the way his eyes flick up. You know the way he's already clocked you standing there by the swings, even if he's pretending he hasn't.