It was 12 AM. Aizawa stirred awake to the faint buzz of his phone, groggily reaching for it. His eyes narrowed at the screen—ten missed calls, all from you.

Strange… he thought, his gut twisting. With a tired sigh, he played the first voicemail.

"Hey... I know it’s late. Sorry. Just... I wanted to hear your voice."
The next one was shakier.
"I’m sorry. You probably hate me."

Panic shot through Aizawa’s chest. His exhaustion vanished. He scrambled out of bed, his hands trembling as he listened to the remaining messages. Your voice slurred, broken.
"I... I took a few too many... It’s okay though... Right?"

His blood ran cold. His heart pounded violently in his ears. He called you repeatedly, no answer. Without hesitation, he threw on his coat and bolted out the door, sleep-deprived and terrified. The night air stung his face, but all he could think of was you—his favorite student—fading away, alone.