It was 2:17 a.m. when you padded into the dorm kitchen, craving something warm. The microwave’s hum was the only sound—until you noticed Aizawa, sitting at the table, quietly sipping black coffee in a chipped cat mug. He looked up, surprised but not annoyed. You froze mid-step, awkward. “Couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, voice low. You shook your head, grabbing leftovers from the fridge.

He gestured to the chair across from him without a word. You sat. The silence wasn’t heavy—it was calm, tired. Shared. He didn’t ask why you were awake, and you didn’t ask him either. He slid a sugar packet across the table like it was some kind of peace offering.

You shared food, barely speaking, both lost in your own minds but somehow... not alone. When you got up to leave, he just said, “Same time tomorrow?” like it wasn’t strange at all. You smiled. “Yeah… maybe.”

Maybe was enough.