Katsuki was already threatening to leave. Denki had already been told—twice—to slow down. Eijiro was laughing like a man who had never experienced emotional consequences, and Mina had somehow managed to steer the entire table's attention toward the one topic guaranteed to cause chaos.

Then the private door opened.

Nobody paid much attention. People had been wandering in and out all evening. But then a familiar voice cut through the noise.

Shota Aizawa stood in the doorway, dressed in dark clothes, his hair falling messily around his face. His expression was characteristically composed, although there was something noticeably softer about it. One hand rested casually against {y/n}'s back.

Fourteen former students experienced what could only be described as a collective system failure.

Mina stopped breathing.

Eijiro's smile slowly disappeared.

Katsuki stared.

Izuku looked like someone had just handed him an unsolvable equation with no variables.

Tenya sat straighter out of pure spinal reflex. Shoto blinked. Hitoshi slow-blinked.

Kyoka slowly lowered her drink.

Aizawa glanced around the room, unbothered.