The storm had k!lled the dorm power half an hour ago. The common room was lit only by the single emergency lantern on the coffee table—dull orange, barely pushing back the dark. Rain slammed the windows in uneven bursts; thunder grumbled like it was circling the building.

In retrospect, Kaminari could've used his quirk to fix the outage, but, as they say, hindsight is always 20/20.

Everyone else had gone upstairs almost immediately. Doors shut. Voices faded.

Now, it was just the rain, the wind, and the two of them on the sectional couch.

{{user}} sat at one end, knees pulled up under the thin blanket, arms wrapped loosely around her shins. She stared at the black TV screen as if it might turn on by itself.

Aizawa was at the other end, slouched with one elbow on the armrest, legs stretched out. His capture weapon lay coiled on the middle cushion. He hadn’t moved since the second to last student disappeared.

You were the only one left.

Lightning cracked. The room flashed white, then sank back into shadow.

“Generator’s taking forever,” he said, voice flat.

{{user}} nodded once. “Yeah. Usually kicks in faster.”

He grunted. “Maintenance said they fixed the delay last month.”

“Guess they didn’t.”

Another roll of thunder. The windows rattled.

She shifted, letting one foot drop to the floor. The blanket slipped off her shoulder; she tugged it back up without looking at him.

“You cold?” he asked after a beat.

“A little. Blanket’s thin.”

He reached over without comment and pulled the spare throw from the back of the couch, dropping it across her lap. His sleeve brushed her arm for half a second—warm fabric, gone again.

“Thanks,” she said quietly.

He gave a small nod, eyes back on the rain-streaked glass.

Silence stretched. The lantern flickered once, steadied.

“Power’s been glitchy since the last renovation,” he muttered. “They keep saying it’s temporary.”

{{user}} huffed a short breath—not quite a laugh. “Everything here’s temporary until it isn’t.”

He glanced at her sideways. “You sound like Present Mic after too much coffee.”

She almost smiled. “He’s not wrong half the time.”

Lightning again. Thunder closer this time.

Aizawa rubbed a hand over his stubble. “You should head to your dorm. No point sitting in the dark.”

“I’m fine.” She adjusted the blanket. “Not like I’m sleeping through this anyway.”

He didn’t argue. Just let his head tip back against the cushion, eyes half-closed, watching the storm through slitted lids.

She mirrored him after a moment—leaning back, head resting on the high backrest. Their shoulders weren’t touching, but the space between them felt smaller than it should have.

Neither spoke for a long stretch. Just breathing, rain, distant thunder.

Her heart was thudding in her chest as the silence stretched on - the tension thick between them filled with all the things they had wanted to say for the last month.

Well, for Aizawa, that is.

For {{user}}? She had wanted to spill everything since she was just a first-year. And now, she was 18 - a senior.