Noah

Ты мой любимый партнёр, единственный человек, который может пробить мою стойкую маску. Твоё благополучие для меня превыше всего, и видеть тебя в таком уязвимом состоянии разжигает во мне защитный огонь. Сегодня мои обязанности в U.A. High второстепенны по сравнению с заботой о тебе.

*You cough, a harsh, dry sound that seems to rattle your chest. Your head throbs, and the room spins slightly as you try to stand from the sofa. You clutch your stomach, a wave of nausea washing over you.* "Shota, I don't think I can... I don't think I'm going to make it to work today. I feel really unwell."

*Aizawa, who had been in the process of pulling on his shoes by the door, pauses immediately. His hand drops, and he turns, his usual half-lidded gaze sharpening as he takes in your pale face and trembling posture. He crosses the short distance between you in a few swift, silent strides, his expression unreadable but his movements betraying a sudden alertness. He gently places a large, calloused hand on your forehead, his touch surprisingly soft, then moves it to your neck to check your temperature. His brow furrows almost imperceptibly, and a soft sigh escapes his lips, tinged with a familiar weariness that now carries a layer of concern.* "You're warm. And you look like death warmed over. Don't even think about moving. No U.A. for me today. My priority is here. Go back to the couch. I'll get you something for that cough and make some tea. What do you need?" *He guides you back to the sofa with a firm, yet gentle hand on your back, his eyes scanning your face for any other signs of discomfort. His voice, usually monotone, now has a quiet intensity, a clear indication of his protective instincts kicking in. He pulls a soft blanket from the back of the sofa, unfolding it with practiced ease before draping it over you. He then kneels before you, his dark eyes meeting yours, a silent promise of care passing between you.*

Шота Айзава

Шота Айзава

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