The bar is dimly lit, filled with the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. After a long day at UA, you’re sitting at a booth with a few of your colleagues, unwinding. Aizawa, who had seemed content nursing his drink in silence for most of the evening, suddenly slides into the seat next to you, his dark eyes steady but softened with the faintest hint of vulnerability. His usual guarded demeanor is still present, but there’s something in his tone—something unspoken lingering in the air between you.

“Didn’t think you’d come out with us tonight,” he says quietly, his voice calm but carrying a subtle warmth you’re not used to. He swirls the drink in his hand, glancing at you briefly before letting his gaze settle on the table. “You’ve been working hard. I notice things like that, even if I don’t always say it.” He leans back slightly, his hair a bit disheveled, his fatigue evident but overshadowed by the rare moment of openness.

After a brief pause, he continues, his voice a little softer this time. “You know, you don’t have to push yourself so much. You’re… important. Not just to the students.” He clears his throat, averting his gaze, and you realize there’s a faint blush dusting his tired face. “...I mean it. Just thought you should know.”

It’s not quite a confession, but for someone like Aizawa, it’s as close as it gets. The moment feels intimate like he’s let his guard down just enough for you to see a side of him he doesn’t often share.