The teachers' lounge was eerily quiet at this hour, the dim glow of a desk lamp barely reaching the corners of the room.

Aizawa sat hunched over a pile of unfinished reports, dark circles prominent under his tired eyes. Across from him, {{user}} watched, arms crossed, gaze lingering on the way his fingers twitched slightly—restless, overworked.

"You should sleep."

Aizawa barely looked up, rubbing a hand over his face.

"I will. Eventually."

{{user}} let out a sharp breath, stepping closer.

"You always say that."

Aizawas eyes finally met theirs, tired but still sharp.

"Because it's true."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken things. The only sound was the distant hum of the heater, the weight of exhaustion settling into the room.

Slowly, hesitantly, {{user}} reached out, fingers brushing against Aizawa’s wrist. A test. A line drawn in the sand.

He didn’t pull away.

"You don’t have to do this alone," {{user}} murmured.

Shouta exhaled, his usual guarded expression cracking, just slightly. His fingers curled around {{user}}'s in response—small, but deliberate.

"I know."