Day 1: Rest and Care

Morning

The soft light of the morning filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. I stir slightly, feeling the familiar warmth of Mailin beside me. It’s become something I’ve started to expect, to need. Her presence is grounding in a way I hadn’t realized before.

I glance down, seeing her golden blonde hair spread across the pillow, her breath slow and steady. I don’t want to wake her, but the soreness in my arms is already creeping in. I shift slightly, trying not to move too much. But even with the pain, I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips.

She wakes, her blue eyes opening slowly, still heavy with sleep. “Morning,” she murmurs, her voice soft and warm.

I grunt in response, not trusting my voice just yet.

Mailin props herself up on her elbow, her fingers immediately reaching for the bandages around my arms. “How are you feeling?” she asks, concern lacing her voice.

“Sore,” I admit, but I’m not one to dwell on it. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

She gives me that look—the one I’ve come to recognize, where her lips press into a line, and she raises one brow. It’s the look that says she’s not taking any of my nonsense today.

“Aizawa Shota,” she says in that stern voice that makes me freeze for a second. “You’re not moving a muscle today. Let me take care of you.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue when I see the determination in her eyes. I sigh in defeat. “Fine,” I grumble, but the truth is, I don’t really mind. Not when it’s her.

She carefully unwraps the bandages, her hands gentle as she checks my injuries. Her water healing quirk is more of a soothing touch than an immediate fix, but it helps, and I can feel the tension easing from my muscles as she works.

Our conversation is light, teasing even, as she scolds me for trying to do too much. I can’t help the fond smile that tugs at my lips. She cares—really cares. And that’s something I haven’t had in a long time.

Afternoon

Mailin insists on cooking lunch, and I watch her from my seat, arms still useless in their casts. She moves around the kitchen like she’s always belonged here, her soft humming filling the space. It’s... comforting.

I should feel more frustrated—more helpless—but watching her, I can’t bring myself to care. There’s something oddly domestic about this, something that makes the apartment feel more like a home.

When she brings the food over, I can’t resist. I pull her into my lap, ignoring the way my arms protest the movement, and press a soft kiss to her temple. She laughs, her blue eyes shining as she settles against me.

“We’re getting way too domestic,” she teases, but there’s a warmth in her voice, a hint of something deeper.

“I don’t mind,” I mutter, and for once, I mean it.

We eat in comfortable silence, the only sound the occasional clink of silverware and Mailin’s soft laughter when I try to feed myself with both arms out of commission. It’s ridiculous, and I know it, but she doesn’t complain—just takes the fork from my hand and helps me, her touch gentle and familiar.

Evening

The rest of the day passes in a blur of quiet moments—shared glances, soft touches, and the warmth of being together. We spend the evening on the couch, wrapped up in blankets, watching old hero documentaries.

Mailin snuggles against my side, her head resting on my shoulder, and I let myself relax into her warmth. It’s rare for me to feel this at ease, but with her... it’s different.

We share quiet commentary, laughing at the more ridiculous moments, and every now and then, she leans up to press a kiss to my jaw, her lips soft against my skin. I’m not used to this—this kind of intimacy—but I’m starting to realize that maybe... I want it.

Maybe I want her.

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Day 2: A Small Date Out

Morning

I wake up the next morning, still sore but feeling restless. I’ve been stuck inside for days, and even though Mailin’s been taking care of me, I can’t help the itch to get out, to do something other than sit around.

“Let’s go out,” I say, surprising even myself with the suggestion.

Mailin looks up from where she’s been tidying up the apartment, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “Are you sure? You’re still healing.”

“I need to get out of here,” I grumble, trying not to sound too eager. “Just a walk. Nothing strenuous.”

She watches me for a moment, her eyes narrowing in that way she does when she’s considering whether or not to argue. But then she sighs, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Alright. But I’m helping you get dressed.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t protest. She’s right—I can’t exactly do much with my arms still in casts. And besides, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy watching her fuss over me.

As she helps me into my clothes, her fingers brushing against my skin, I can’t help the warmth that spreads through me. It’s stupid, really, how much I’ve come to rely on her, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Afternoon

The walk is exactly what I needed. The air is crisp, the park quiet, and for once, I feel like I can breathe. Mailin walks beside me, her hand occasionally brushing against mine, and I find myself feeling... content.

We sit down on a bench after a while, and she leans against me, her head resting on my shoulder. It feels natural, like this is where we’re supposed to be.

“You think your students are missing you?” she teases, her voice soft.

“They’re probably glad to be rid of me,” I mutter, but the truth is, I don’t mind the idea of being here with her instead of at U.A.

She laughs, and the sound warms something deep inside me.

Evening

We stop at a small, cozy restaurant for dinner. It’s quiet, intimate, the kind of place where you can actually have a conversation without being interrupted by the chaos of the outside world.

As we sit across from each other, our conversation drifts from light topics to something deeper. We talk about the future, about work, about how this—whatever this is between us—feels like something neither of us expected but both of us are starting to treasure.

By the time we get back to the apartment, it’s late, and I’m exhausted, but there’s a warmth in my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time.

“I’m glad we did this,” I admit as we get ready for bed, my voice quiet.

Mailin smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to my lips. “Me too.”

We fall asleep wrapped around each other, and for the first time in years, I feel like everything might just be okay.