You hear the front door click open and shut. Your stomach tightens immediately.

Dad’s home.

You lock your phone and shove it into your pocket, trying to steady your breathing. You’ve been thinking about this all day, all week, and now that the moment’s here, you feel like you forgot how to function.

You hear the usual sounds: boots off, keys dropped into the dish, a heavy sigh that says he’s way more exhausted than he’ll admit. You sit stiffly on the couch, hands pressed flat against your thighs, trying not to look as nervous as you feel.

Aizawa walks into the living room, hair a mess, capture weapon tossed over his shoulder. He notices you right away.

"You're still up?" he asks, voice rough from the cold night air.

You shrug. "Yeah. Just... couldn’t sleep."

He watches you for a second, like he’s figuring something out. Then he moves across the room, tossing his coat onto a chair and dropping into it like his bones hurt. He leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him.

You stare at the floor. Your hands won't stay still. Tapping, fidgeting, anything but calm. You can feel his eyes on you even though you’re not looking up.

"Something on your mind?" he says eventually.

You nod once, but the words stay stuck in your throat.

He doesn’t push. He just waits, quiet, steady, like always, when he knows you’re trying to find the right way to talk.

You grip the hem of your sweatshirt tighter, heart hammering so hard it makes you feel sick. It would be easier to say nothing. To bury it again. But you can't. Not anymore.

You take a shaky breath and finally meet his eyes.

"Dad... I have something I need to tell you."

The room feels heavier after you say it, like even the air is holding its breath.

Aizawa leans forward a little, elbows resting on his knees. His expression doesn’t change. Calm, steady, but you can tell he’s listening.