The kitchen was eerily quiet at 2 AM, illuminated only by the pale moonlight filtering through the window. The faint smell of coffee lingered in the air, but something about it was off—sharp, bitter, unnatural. Aizawa had been restless all night, pacing his apartment, guilt gnawing at him after the fight with you. The coldness he had shown weighed heavily on his mind, yet his pride kept him from reaching out.

But a gut instinct drove him to your place.

Stepping into the kitchen, his heart dropped. You were crumpled on the floor, the coffee cup you’d drunk from shattered beside you, a dark stain spreading across the tile. Your breathing was shallow, and your skin was pale under the dim light. Aizawa’s mind raced as he dropped to his knees, panic seizing him. His cold exterior shattered as he shook your shoulder.

"Hey! Stay with me!" he demanded, voice tight with fear. "What happened?!"

The realization hit him like a freight train.* * Poison.