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The weight of the night bore down heavily on the walls of U.A., silent, foreboding. Everything seemed painfully still when Aizawa trudged down the dim corridors, his senses strained for any indication, any faint sound that would give him even a sliver of hope that they might still be within reach.It had been three months since you and Bakugou had disappeared without a trace, leaving only smudges of crimson staining your bedroom wall—a splatter of blood that spoke volumes of the struggle that had taken place. He’d replayed that horrific scene in his mind a thousand times, mentally cataloguing each mark, every drop, trying to piece together a puzzle that seemed unsolvable. You, his attentive, bright student who saw him as more than a teacher, as something of a father figure. And Bakugou, his brash, difficult, and yet fiercely determined student—the one he had a soft spot for, though he'd never say it aloud. You both were gone.The empty chairs in the classroom were an open wound that never scabbed over. For months, he’d been hurling himself headfirst into sleepless nights and gruelling searches, leading every investigation with the ferocity of a storm. His eyes bore the marks of exhaustion, sleepless nights painted dark under his eyes. He’d torn through countless files, chased leads that went nowhere, interrogated villains who swore they knew nothing.But he couldn’t give up. He refused to give up.---That night, as Aizawa stood atop the U.A. rooftop, he felt as if the universe was mocking him, pressing down on his shoulders with the weight of his helplessness. The wind bit into his skin, sharp and cold, yet he barely noticed.And then… he saw you.Sitting right at the edge of the rooftop, illuminated by a faint sliver of moonlight, you were there—you were there!—wrapped in the grip of misery. Your shoulders trembled with every shaky breath as you sobbed quietly, hands wrapped around yourself, as if trying to hold together the shattered pieces of your soul.His heart skipped a beat, disbelief twisting into something akin to wild hope. “Y/N?” he whispered, voice broken.As he moved closer, he saw Bakugou approach you from the shadows, his usual fierce demeanour dulled into something hollow and haunted. He sat down beside you, silent, every inch of him screaming of exhaustion, of fear that he didn’t want you to see. You leaned into him, seeking comfort, and he tensed but let you rest against his shoulder.“Do you think… they’ll find us?” you choked out between sobs, words laden with an exhaustion that went beyond physical pain.Bakugou’s jaw clenched, his gaze focused on the horizon, as though if he stared long enough, he could summon someone to come save you both. “Yes,” he lied, the word like a whisper of hope he didn’t truly believe.Aizawa’s throat closed up, his voice trembling as he called out, “Y/N! Bakugou!” He tried again, louder, voice splintering, but neither of you so much as flinched. Panic began to simmer within him, deep and urgent. He started running towards you, his hands outstretched, desperate to pull you both away from the edge, away from the despair that enveloped you.“BAKUGOU! Y/N!” He screamed now, pleading with you to look his way, to see him standing there, ready to bring you home. But as he reached out to touch you, his hand went through your shoulder, the cold of your absence chilling him to his core. His hands shook as he tried again and again to reach you, to make you see him.It was a hologram. You weren’t really there. He couldn’t touch you, couldn’t hear you, couldn’t pull you to safety. And yet, he could see you. Hear you.And that was his curse.Every night after that, he returned to the rooftop, standing vigil, haunted by the ghosts of his students as he watched the projection of your suffering play out over and over. Each night, he’d watch you tremble with fear, hear Bakugou grit his teeth and try to comfort you with empty promises. The torture and despair you endured was raw, visceral, and it ripped him apart each time he bore witness to it. He’d hear your broken cries for help, hear Bakugou’s voice turn from defiance to anguish, his tough exterior cracking like glass under the pressure.Aizawa could do nothing. He was powerless.His mind began to deteriorate, haunted by your voices, your pain. Days bled into nights, and he existed on that rooftop, clinging to the hope that one of these nights, you might let slip some clue about your location, something he could use to find you, to bring you both home. But every night ended the same—him watching helplessly, you calling out into the dark with no one to save you.Sleep was a luxury he could no longer afford, his nights plagued by the images of you both in that unknown place, huddled together, broken and scared, with no one to hear your pleas. The worst part, though, was that each day, he saw Bakugou's resilience chip away, his proud spirit slowly crumbling as despair settled into his bones. You were each other's only anchor, and yet, he could see the cracks in that too. He heard Bakugou’s promises wane, the fire in his eyes dimming, and each time it happened, Aizawa felt his own soul fracture a little more.One night, as he listened to you sob, your voice faint and weak, you spoke words that nearly broke him entirely. "Do you think Aizawa-sensei even knows we’re gone?"“Yes,” Bakugou answered, his voice thin, almost as if he were convincing himself. "He’s probably busting his ass to find us."But even he sounded like he was running out of hope.Aizawa sank to his knees, gripping his chest as though he could hold his heart in place, stop it from breaking entirely. Each of your words was a knife to his soul, a reminder that he’d failed you both. He couldn’t protect you, couldn’t keep you safe. And the helplessness gnawed at him until it left only a hollow shell.Finally, one night, he snapped. As he stood on that rooftop, watching your ghostly forms, his voice erupted into the night.“I swear to you—I’ll find you! *I will bring you home!*”His voice echoed, lost in the empty air, and he fell silent. He remained there, feeling his own words dissolve into nothingness, unanswered and unheard. He sank to his knees once again, staring up at the sky, his face streaked with tears, his soul a shattered mirror reflecting only grief.And still, he waited. Helpless, broken, but unwilling to leave—because he needed to be there, even if all he could do was watch.