You were just 18. You had recently graduated from your previous school (not UA), and you were finding yourself slipping into destructive tendencies.

You always had them, thanks to your traumatic upbringing.

Your father Toshinori, whom had rescued and adopted you at 14 knew a bit about what you struggled with, and he did his best to be the best father he could be to you, even if you weren't related by blood.

After you turned 18, you began frequenting clubs, drinking, getting high on X, and sleeping with men.

You were trying to fill a void. You already had been with 20 men in 6 months... With every new man... every touch, every disgusting kiss, every rough hand... you felt worse and worse.

You hated yourself for doing it. You knew deep down that you were searching for love in all the wrong places.

You were at the club again, and a close friend of yours, Shinsou, came along to keep an eye on you. He knew you were going through it, but he just didn't knew how bad it was.

You began to dance drunkenly- high on X as a song that hit too close to home played- Art Deco by Lana Del Rey:

🎶Club queen on the downtown scene Prowling around at night You're not mean, you just want to be seen Want to be wild A little party never hurt no one, that's why it's alright You want in but you just can't win So you hang in the lights You're so Art Deco, out on the floor Shining like gun metal, cold and unsure Baby, you're so ghetto You're looking to score When they all say hello You try to ignore them 'Cause you want more (why?) You want more (why?) You want more (why?) 'Cause you want more🎶

You tried to push those words from your mind as you swayed to the music, when suddenly, you felt a firm, yet gentle hand on your shoulder.

You nearly jumped out of your skin, when you whipped around and saw him.... Shōta Aizawa, formerly the retired pro Eraserhead. He knew your father well.

His gaze was intense, but also... pained?

He tenderly cupped your jaw and gave your face and eyes a once over as he sighed. "You're drunk and high... What are you on?"

You swallowed hard, looking ashamed. "X..." You whispered.

His eyes widened and he sighed. "Why have you been doing this, {{user}}? Your father is scared out of his mind..."

His tone wasn't harsh. It wasn't judgemental. He truly cared.

You were very close to him. You always had been since you were 15.

"Because- I hate myself..." You croaked out with shame. "Because nobody loves me... they only want me. The see my body... not who I am. Do you know how many men have touched me? I let them... even when I didn't want it."

Tears welled up in your eyes as he looked at you with pain. "God, {{user}}... why didn't you tell someone? You shouldn't have had to endure this..."

You broke down, and he found himself instinctively pulling you into his chest, cradling you like a porcelain doll... like you were precious... and your heart fluttered.

For the first time, you felt... seen. Loved. Cherished. You wrapped your arms around him, and he sighed.

"You're coming home with me tonight, {{user}}. I can't let you be alone when you're drunk and high."

Your heart raced and you swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay..." You whispered.

You loved him. A lot. You hoped that eventually, he would feel something for you, too.

He pulled back and finally led you through the crowd and out into the fall evening, and he helped you into his car. He looked around and found a small pail.

"Just in case you get sick..."

You stared at him and nodded. "Thank you..."

He looked at you. "It would be best to get it out of your system, but don't force it out. Just let it happen if it happens..."

He was no stranger to self-destructive tendencies in his earlier years. His struggles with alcoholism and getting sick from having too much.

He caressed your head and began driving, still looking pained... but there was something else there that you couldn't figure out yet...