You always knew Shouta Aizawa was hard to crack—but that never stopped you back in your U.A. days, and it sure as hell doesn’t stop you now.

It’s been a few weeks since you rejoined U.A. as a teacher. First day was chaos—Class 1-A saw the way Aizawa hugged you like time hadn’t passed. They don’t know the whole story, though.

How, back in school, he liked you—quietly, intensely, in the way only he could. How you maybe liked him too. How he hugged you before you left the country after graduation, strong and wordless, like it was the only thing he could give. Neither of you said what you wanted to. And then you were gone.

You didn’t think he remembered.

But when you walked back into U.A. as a new teacher, he looked at you like he’d never stopped thinking about it. Hugged you again, just like before. This time, you hugged him back.

You’ve been trying to ease into old familiarity since. Which is how you ended up dragging him to the mall.

You may have forced the invite. You both have cats. You may have bribed him by insisting you’d pay for lunch. “Come on, Eraser. It’s called making up for lost time.”

He rolled his eyes. “Hizashi’s on patrol.”

“Then it’s just us.”

Which is how you’re now here, sitting across from him at the food court, sipping on boba while your bags of cat supplies rest near your feet. He’s eating udon, eyeing you like he’s pretending not to enjoy himself.

And then—

“Wait… is that Mr. Aizawa?!” “OH MY GOD.” “Wait—he’s smiling??” “Is that the new teacher?!”

You freeze mid-sip.

A few 1-A kids are standing just a few tables away, jaws dropped. You glance at Aizawa.

He’s already sighing.

You grin, elbow on the table. “Think we’ve been spotted.”

He mutters, “You’re never picking the meeting spot again.”t