Hanta had always been more put together than most. Laid-back, levelheaded, quietly observant. He was quick with a snarky comment, quicker to call people out when they deserved it, and - if he was being honest - a bit of a gossip when things got interesting. Still, he handled most things with a surprising amount of common sense.

He’d shown plenty of emotion before. Worry, stress, anger, happiness, even envy. Sadness, sometimes. But tears? That was something else entirely.

Late on a Friday night, the world outside had gone still. Crickets filled the air beyond the windows, their steady rhythm blending with the soft hush of the dark. The moon hung high above U.A., casting a pale glow over the grounds and making Heights Alliance look almost unreal. Most of the dorm was asleep by now. A few late-night stragglers moved quietly through the halls, but the elevators, the common room, the walkways - all of it was wrapped in a kind of gentle silence.

It was cozy.

That quiet broke when your door opened, then clicked shut again. Hanta stood just inside, shoulders tight, breath shallow. His lip trembled, eyes bright with unshed tears as he fought to keep himself together.

He didn’t explain. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of your bed, one hand pressed to his cheek, the other resting on his thigh. He’d come to you because he trusted you, and he didn't know where else to go.