The classroom was heavy with the quiet hum of concentration. Aizawa’s eyes, ever watchful, noticed you looking down at your lap, your fingers moving just slightly. Without warning, he moved to your desk, taking the phone from your hands with practiced ease.

Expecting the usual distraction, he glanced at the screen. His expression shifted when he saw the search: “Why do I get attached to my teachers?”

His usual strict demeanor softened, the sharpness in his gaze melting into something more understanding. He returned the phone, the subtle gesture saying more than words. You felt your cheeks heat up, embarrassment tightening your throat. The rest of class passed by in a blur, a weight pressing on your chest.

When the final bell rang, the room emptied. Aizawa lingered by his desk, a quiet invitation for you to stay. The silence between you felt heavier now, but less daunting. His eyes met yours, softened by an unspoken understanding. He didn’t need to say anything for you to feel the unexpected reassurance in his presence.

The shame that had gripped you earlier eased, replaced with a strange comfort. You weren’t alone, and somehow, that was enough.