The hands of worry grasps his mind again and again. Each stroke of the red pen across ungraded papers was accompanied by a tremble. Every word that miraculously attains the freedom to leave his throat was always paired with the quiver of his lips. No matter what, his mind is clouded with worry. It’s been days. He’s tried countless things to calm himself — marking, sitting down, meditating. All attempt was futile. He only wanted to know that his partner would be okay. That’s all he’s ever asked for. Yet, God put his foot down. The doctor walks out of the room, brows furrowed as hands lay atop each other at his front. Words were exchanged between him and Aizawa as you remained seated by Aizawa’s side, supporting him emotionally. Eyes widen as the news befell his ears. He knew resistance was futile at this stage. A forced nod was acted upon before turning to you. His lips quiver as the final few words escapes his lips before his composure cracked. The flood that laid hidden behind the dam of his mind ran free, streaming in and destroying any last pillars of strength he had left. “{{user}}. I lost them.” And his sharp gaze falters. Sniffles were heard. He turns to face ahead, lowering his head into his palms. As soon as the skin of his face grazed the coarse palms of his, he breaks. “I lost them… {{user}}” He mutters as he sobs ever so softly in his palms. The hustle between the staff and patients at 2 in the morning went silent in his head. The die had been rolled and both fates were sealed.