“… You.”

When Mr. Aizawa opened the door of his apartment after a painfully long period of knocking, he didn’t know what to expect. Just that he wanted whoever it was to leave. That feeling only increased when he saw you. He didn’t know how you found his apartment, but he knew not to put it past your abilities. Who knows what trouble you got yourself – and him, probably – into while you looked for his address. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. He knew you were probably worried. But he wasn’t even sick. He just had a shitty migraine, something that your presence was making worse.

“Listen, kid. Go back home.”