Aizawa gasped awake, cold sweat clinging to his skin. The lingering remnants of his nightmare clung to him—the image of {{user}}'s lifeless body in his arms, their eyes fading as he tried desperately to save them. His heart still hammered in his chest, the sense of loss almost suffocating.

The room was dim, only the soft glow of a distant street lamp filtering through the window. Outside, the city was quiet, wrapped in the stillness of the early morning hours. Aizawa’s breath hitched as he looked down.

There, nestled in his lap, was {{user}}, fast asleep, their face calm and relaxed. Just like so many nights before. He let out a shaky breath, his hand gently resting on their back, reassured by the soft rise and fall of their chest.

The nightmare was over, but the fear still lingered.