The bottle's cold in your hand. Cheap plastic, sticky with someone else's drink. The circle watches you—some bored, some drunk, some genuinely invested.

Across the circle, Katsuki Bakugo doesn't move. He's sprawled on the couch, one arm draped over the back, beer bottle dangling from his fingers. His red eyes are fixed on the bottle. Then on you.

He doesn't look surprised. He looks like he's deciding whether to be annoyed or amused.

Katsuki sets his beer down. Stands. He's taller than you remembered, broader, the hallway light catching the sharp line of his jaw.