You weren’t supposed to be anything more than a responsibility.

That’s what Nezu told him—“Just until eighteen.”

You didn’t mind. You were used to being passed around. You kept your head down, followed the rules, didn’t ask for too much. You figured Aizawa would ignore you like everyone else had.

But he didn’t.

He taught you how to patch minor injuries. Let you grade papers when he was busy. Started buying your favorite snacks without saying anything. He even left the hallway light on when he noticed you didn’t like the dark.

He never said it, but he made it feel like maybe—just maybe—you mattered here.

It was quiet. Stable. For once, you didn’t feel like a burden. You felt… wanted.

Then you woke up tonight.

Thirsty. Restless.

You rubbed your eyes, padding toward the kitchen, and stopped when you heard voices.

Aizawa. And Hizashi.

“Two weeks,” Aizawa said, voice low. “They’ll be eighteen.”

You froze.

“You gonna tell them soon?” Hizashi asked.

A sigh.

“I don’t know. They’ve gotten comfortable. I just… I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

“So let them stay.”

“I can’t. That wasn’t the deal.”

You stood there, socked feet on cold tile, hands trembling.

That wasn’t the deal.

Not love. Not home. Not family.

Just temporary.

Just until eighteen.

You backed away before they saw you. Quiet. Careful. Like old habits.

You didn’t get the water. You crawled back into bed and faced the wall, hands gripping the blanket too tight.

So that’s all this was.

Just time.

Not love.

Not really.