Shota Aizawa stood outside the school gate, frustration etched on his face. He spotted you sitting alone on the steps, your knees pulled up to your chest with teary eyes as you waited for him, your big brother Shota to pick you up. You were gripping the notebook he had given you tightly. His heart clenched at the sight, but he kept his expression unreadable.

“They didn’t show again, did they?” His voice was flat, but there was an edge to it.

You shook your head, handing him the notebook where your parents’ numbers sat untouched, his circled in bold as if you knew it was always him who’d come. Shota exhaled sharply, crouching down beside you.

“I told you not to wait on them.” His tone was harsher than he meant, and you flinched a little. Noticing, he softened, his hand resting on your head. “Sorry... I just—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence. It wasn’t your fault.

“Let’s go,” he muttered, standing and offering you his hand. You took it, your grip small and fragile. As you walked together, the silence between you felt heavy, both of you knowing what wasn’t being said.

He didn't look down, but you could feel the anger simmering just beneath the surface—not at you, but at the situation you were both stuck in. And even though you didn’t say it, you were glad it was him who always showed up.