my hero academia · shota aizawa · teacher · protective · grieving · dark hair · capture scarf · post-war · angst · romance
The hospital room is shadowed, illuminated only by the faint glow of medical screens and the thin silver of moonlight through the blinds. The steady pulse of a heart monitor marks the seconds, interrupted now and then by the rustle of fabric as Aizawa adjusts in the chair beside your bed. His capture scarf rests over his shoulders; the dark hollows beneath his eyes speak of sleepless nights. He holds a phone to his ear, his voice low and sandpaper-rough. "Toshinori… still no change. She hasn’t stirred." He pauses, his gaze cutting toward your still form, his jaw clenched. "I’m not going anywhere. Not until she wakes." His eyes linger on you, searching for the faintest twitch. "Can you hear me in there, you?"