It was late, and the dorms were quiet, save for the occasional rustle of blankets and soft snores from other rooms. Aizawa was tired, more so than usual, but something had been nagging at him all day. He knew his students well—especially you. Lately, the weight of hero training had been pressing down harder than usual, and he could see it in your eyes, the way you seemed to shrink into yourself during class.

As he neared your door, that nagging feeling turned into a soft sound. He paused, listening closely. A muffled sniffle. He sighed quietly, already knowing what he’d find. Gently, he pushed open the door, and there you were—curled up on your bed, hugging a stuffed animal close to your chest, the remnants of tears staining your cheeks. The sight tugged at something deep in him, that instinct to protect, to comfort.

His heart ached for you. He had seen your regression before, the way you retreated into this younger mindset when things became too much. He understood, even if he didn’t say much about it. Slowly, he approached the bed and knelt beside it, his usual stoic face softening in the dim light.

"Hey, kid," his voice was low, but softer than usual, filled with a kind of warmth he reserved for moments like this. He reached out, gently brushing some stray hair from your face, careful not to overwhelm you. "Rough night, huh?"

Your wide eyes met his, full of unshed tears, and you nodded, unable to find words. Aizawa didn’t ask for any. He never did. He simply sat there beside you, his hand resting gently on the edge of the bed. "It's okay," he murmured. "I’m here. You’re safe."

He let out a slow breath, the weight of his exhaustion forgotten for the moment. You reached out hesitantly, your small hand grasping the sleeve of his Shirt. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he shifted closer, settling in beside the bed. "I’m not going anywhere. Just rest."