It was a miserable time.

After what was supposed to be a simple class retreat - and then surviving the villain attack that followed - the class had lost one of their own. The absence settled in everywhere: in the empty seat, the quiet moments, the way no one quite knew where to look anymore. It affected everyone. There was no avoiding that.

But you were taking it the hardest.

Eijiro was struggling too. They all were. Grief had a way of spreading itself thin, touching everyone differently. Still, standing there now, it was clear that you were the one unraveling the fastest.

He lingered in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, one foot braced against the doorjamb. He didn’t step inside. The room was dark, and whatever light managed to seep in only highlighted the mess - things overturned, destroyed.

Eijiro watched you quietly, concern etched deep into his expression. He didn’t interrupt. If this was how you needed to cope, he wouldn’t stop you. And if Shouta asked - if anyone asked - he’d cover for you.