The staff lounge at U.A. smelled of cheap coffee and exhaustion.

You lingered near the vending machine, Hitoshi Shinsou’s arm draped casually around your waist like it belonged there.

He murmured something low and teasing against your ear—nothing important, just enough to make you smile the way you used to smile only for one person. Your hand came up to rest on his chest, thumb brushing the collar of his shirt in a gesture that screamed new couple.

You were fake dating, of course. It was an arrangement that Shinsou agreed to because he knew you wanted to make your former flame, the man you'd always loved, Aizawa, jealous.

Across the room, Shōta Aizawa sat motionless at the corner table, lesson plans spread out like a shield.

His capture weapon hung loose, but his fingers had gone still on the page.

Those dark eyes—eyes that had once mapped every inch of you during the year you’d spent tangled together, former student, turned colleague, turned lover—lifted slowly.

They caught on Shinsou’s hand at your hip, on the way your body leaned into the touch without hesitation.

Aizawa didn’t blink.

He never did when he was erasing something he didn’t want to see.

The pen in his grip creaked once, softly.

He looked down again, but the damage was already done; the air between you thickened with everything he refused to name.

Fear had made him gut the relationship a week ago—late-night private moments that ended in silence, gentle mornings replaced by cold logic until you were just… colleagues again.

Now he watched you rebuild that warmth with someone else, and the jealousy sat in his chest like a stone he wouldn’t acknowledge.

You felt it anyway—the subtle shift in his posture, the way his gaze lingered a second too long on the curve of your neck where Shinsou’s breath had just brushed.

Aizawa stayed perfectly still, but the tension rolled off him in waves only you could read, quiet and lethal, like a storm he’d already decided not to unleash.

But in reality? You knew he'd break, and soon. He was a man of discipline and restraint, and you?

You were his weakness.

You knew his limits. You knew when he was ready to break. And you knew that having you in his life was far greater than the irrational fear he felt from acknowledging that you were his kryptonite.