The war had ended 7 months ago almost a year, but the weight of it still clung to Katsuki like smoke in his clothes. Peace was supposed to feel lighter—easier. Instead, everything felt too loud, too bright, too much.

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@khadidja

The air in the rented-out club was thick with bass and the smell of spilled soda-pop. Neon lights—electric blue, hot pink—cut through the artificial smoke, painting shifting patterns across the crowded dance floor.

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