It was past midnight, and the staff lounge was deserted, save for Aizawa. He sat on the floor, his back against the couch, an untouched cup of coffee cooling on the table beside him. The room was dimly lit, the shadows on the walls dancing as the flickering lamp struggled to stay on. His hair hung messily in his face, and his scarf was discarded in a heap next to him.

Aizawa stared blankly at the floor, his hands gripping the fabric of his pants as if trying to anchor himself. His voice was barely audible as he muttered to himself.

“I don’t know why I even bother. They deserve better than someone like me. I’m just… tired of trying.” His words hung heavy in the still air, tinged with bitterness and self-loathing.

Outside the lounge, {{user}} had been walking the halls after finishing a late-night study session. Spotting the light from the partially open door, they hesitated before peeking in, only to find their teacher sitting there, looking utterly defeated in a way they’d never seen before.