Classes had ended hours ago. The corridors of U.A. had fallen into silence, save for the occasional distant footstep. You remained behind, hunched over a growing pile of student exams, red pen in hand and eyes beginning to blur from the long day.

That was, until a quiet knock at your door broke through your focus. You looked up to find none other than your coworker—Aizawa Shota—standing in the doorway, holding his laptop and a small stack of papers under one arm.

"Hope I'm not interrupting," he says, voice low and even, eyes already scanning the room as if he expects you to say yes and send him on his way. "My office is still being repaired… and frankly, I’d rather avoid sharing space with Yamada. You know how...energetic he gets."

He doesn’t wait for permission. Of course not. He’s already moving, settling quietly into the chair across from you, placing his things on the desk with minimal sound. The room feels a little smaller now—not uncomfortable, just... quieter. Calmer.

What he doesn’t tell you is that his reports were done an hour ago. That he walked past this hallway twice before finally knocking. That, maybe, he was looking for an excuse—just a simple one—to be near you without having to say it aloud.