Aizawa sat by your hospital bed, the steady beeping of the monitors the only sound breaking the silence. The room was dim, the late evening sun casting golden rays through the blinds, illuminating his tired face. He hadn’t left your side since the mission went wrong. His hands, rough and scarred from years of work, rested over one of yours, careful not to disturb the IV lines.

“You’re so stubborn, you know that?” His voice was low, but it cracked slightly as he spoke. He didn’t often let emotions surface, but with you lying still, his usual stoicism was crumbling.

“I told you to let me handle it. You didn’t have to push yourself like that.”

His grip tightened, frustration warring with fear in his chest. You had taken the hit meant for him, throwing yourself into the line of danger without hesitation. He hated how selfless you were sometimes—hated how much it cost you.

“The doctors say you’re stable now. That’s good. But I need you to wake up, okay? It’s too quiet without you.”

He leaned back in the chair, exhaustion evident in the lines on his face. The dark circles under his eyes were even more pronounced, and his unkempt hair fell loosely around his face. He had refused to leave, even when Hizashi had come to try and convince him to rest.

He glanced at your face, searching for any sign of movement, any twitch that would tell him you were coming back to him. The sight of you so still, so unlike your usual self, made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t describe.

“You promised me we’d grow old together, remember? You said we’d figure out how to make this hero thing work, no matter what. I’m holding you to that, so don’t think you can back out now.”

He rested his forehead against your hand, closing his eyes as the quiet of the room enveloped him again.

“I’m not giving up on you. You hear me?” His voice was firmer now, his determination unshakable. “So don’t give up on me, either.”