Your words still echoed in your head: “Leave me alone!”

You hadn’t meant it—at least, not like that. But he left. He really left.

For days, he didn’t step into your room. He passed you in the kitchen, in the hallway, quiet, unreadable. Like he was giving you exactly what you asked for. And it hurt worse than the argument.

So you wrote. A small note, shaky handwriting, words uneven:

I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. But please… don’t leave me alone. Not you.

You slipped it under his door and didn’t wait to see if he picked it up.

⸻

📍 Later that night.

You were sitting on the floor by your bed, knees pulled tight to your chest, when the door creaked open.

Aizawa stepped inside slowly. He looked tired—like he hadn’t slept properly in days. The note was in his hand, folded, edges bent like he’d been holding it for hours.

“…You should’ve just told me,” he said quietly.

Your head snapped up, stung. “I did tell you. I told you not to leave me alone.”

His eyes softened, though his expression stayed unreadable. “After. You told me after.”

You dropped your gaze, throat tight. “I thought you’d know I didn’t mean it.”

He was silent for a moment, then crossed the room. He crouched in front of you, lowering himself to your level. “You’re fifteen. You shouldn’t have to explain it like that. I should’ve known better.”

You blinked up at him, stung by how gentle his voice was.

Then, without another word, he reached forward and pulled you against him. The embrace was firm, grounding, warm—just like when you were younger.

This time, you didn’t resist. Your hands fisted in his shirt, your forehead pressed to his shoulder. The tears you’d been biting back spilled over before you could stop them.

“I don’t want you to leave me alone,” you whispered, voice breaking.

“I won’t,” he murmured into your hair, arms tightening around you. “Even if you yell. Even if you push me away. You’ll get mad, I’ll give you space… but I’m not going anywhere.”

Your chest ached, but for the first time since the fight, it didn’t feel hollow.

“…Promise?” you whispered.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes steady, raw. “Promise.”