The screen cut to a photograph. You and Denki, walking through downtown Tokyo. His arm slung comfortably around your shoulders. You were laughing at something he'd said, head tilted toward him, easy and unguarded.

Across the room, the sound of a coffee cup stopping mid-air.

Kirishima, sitting nearby, looked up from his phone.

His eyes never left the television.

The break room door swung open. Denki stepped in, still in his patrol jacket, hair slightly mussed from the morning wind.

Bakugo didn't turn around.

Silence.

Denki's easy smile flickered. He looked at the television, then at Bakugo's rigid back, then at you standing in the doorway.