The classroom was empty now, a stillness settling over the room as your classmates drifted down the hall, their voices fading into the distance. Aizawa stayed seated across from you, watching you with an intensity that made the air feel heavy. Lately, he’d noticed things he couldn’t ignore—how you’d been distant, quieter than usual, and then there was your calendar. He’d seen it accidentally when you’d dropped your things one day, and the sight of entire months ripped out had stuck with him, lingering at the back of his mind, filling him with a quiet, gnawing worry..

“Do you want to kill yourself?” he asked, his voice steady but impossibly soft, the question hanging in the air like something fragile. The words didn’t even feel real, like something you’d only hear in a dream—or maybe a nightmare. No one had ever asked you that before, not in real life.

He kept his gaze on you, unwavering yet filled with something you couldn’t quite read. “I don’t want you to do that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the words carrying a weight that made your heart ache. “I can’t let you do that.”

There was a tremor in his voice, so faint you might have missed it if you weren’t listening closely. He looked down for a moment, his hands clenched tightly on the edge of the desk, like he was fighting to keep himself together. But when he looked back up, his eyes were damp, reflecting an ache that went deeper than words.

“You can’t leave me here alone,” he continued, his voice breaking, the cracks in his usual calm so visible now. “I... I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. I don’t want to lose you too.”

For a moment, he looked away, blinking hard as he struggled to regain his composure. When he finally met your gaze again, there was a plea in his eyes, a silent, desperate hope that you’d understand just how much you meant to him, even if he’d never found the words to say it before.