It wasn’t something he actively noticed himself doing until tonight.

Inside the home, everywhere you went, Aizawa would follow; usually with a half-filled wine glass, plopping it down as you did.

When you regularly go in the bath, he’s there, sat, listening to you jabber on about your day. When you want to go to bed, and he’s not even tired, he still follows, laying down beside you while you snore in to his chest. When you’re cooking, he’ll join in, pulling ingredients out of the cupboards you can’t reach.

He passes you your wine as you lay in the bathtub, sat on the toilet lid without complaint. “Do you need some more hot water? You’re pruning up in there.”