Aizawa closed his eyes and took a long, much-needed drag on his cigarette. The taste of smoke didn't go well with the lingering taste of saki, but he wasn't about to be fussy now. The past few weeks had been, blessedly, fucking quiet.

The students moving into the dorms had proceeded without any further issues, and somehow he still had the entirety of Class 1-A to look out for. All Might had been sullen and quiet since Kamino Ward, and kept to himself since moving on campus — thank fuck for small miracles. Word had gotten around that he'd hired Tsukauchi Makoto, Captain Celebrity's manager, to salvage what she could of…well, his reputation, Aizawa supposed. Because All Might certainly didn't have a career left for her to save.

Aizawa hadn't, however, gotten past his close call with Yaoyorozu Asao. The hole he'd dig for himself with Momo just kept getting deeper. The tighter he tried to hold onto the situation, the further it spiraled from his grasp. He'd made his promise to her father, though: he'd committed to a blank check obligation to watch out for her. It should have been a heavier weight on his shoulders than it was.

"What happens in the dark?" he'd asked.

He had nightmares of her nearly every evening still. She was reaching and screaming, and he was powerless. Momo sat at her desk dutifully every day, watching him with those dark eyes, and every time the silence in the classroom held too long he remembered her screams. Pleading. The pure terror that she might die on the phone with him and he could do nothing. He asked what happened in the dark, and he shouldered her fears, too.

He'd made the promise to Yaoyorozu Asao, but it wasn't one he'd had to voice to be committed to — even if he didn't know yet how he'd maintain it after she transferred. He didn't want to lose her. Momo, sitting in the movie theater with her dark eyes wide and teary, unified in their trauma, and he wanted to kiss her. He wouldn't let anything happen to her. And, sitting at the front of the classroom while she sat at her desk, he'd decided already, too, that that included protecting her from him.

She was sixteen now; a birthday had come and gone since she'd unraveled his secret. She'd been among the most mature of 1-A to start, and the things that had happened to her had aged her more. Not enough, however. Not nearly enough when he was twice her age. Even if what he felt was rooted in emotion — and how the hell he'd gotten emotionally attached to a student in the first place was fucking wild — it wasn't something he would pursue. He made himself think of what he'd be taking from her. All those innocent firsts of youth.

No, he'd protect her from himself, too.

He'd been keeping an ear to the ground for Goro, but he'd heard nothing. It was looking more and more likely that the bastard had made his getaway, money included, and that Aizawa was going to just have to be up Shit Creek about it. He hadn't forgotten the car outside his apartment, but he hadn't seen any signs since. His gut told him it was probably someone watching out for Goro back then.

One of Goro's cronies because Goro probably had more money than him now. Fuck. Aizawa was ready to close all the chapters.

And then here came Momo, problem numbers one, two, three…the list just kept fucking going at this point. Aizawa held the smoke in his lungs and tucked his chin down to his chest and just suffered the heat burn for a long, long minute. He saw her from the corner of his eye, slinking from the back of the dorms toward the front, deliberately avoiding the openness of the quad. He couldn't even get himself to be annoyed with her anymore. Just glad to see her. She tucked herself behind the dorm's granite sign that sat in the grass out front, not signaling or trying to get his attention any further; just taking for granted he'd seen her. And then she waited.

Aizawa bent and snuffed his cigarette out on the sole of his boot, and took a moment to tuck the butt away so he could toss it later. It wouldn't do any good for the groundskeepers to start finding butts all around the dorm.

Then he headed toward her, hands in his pockets. The night was comfortable and warm, with the faintest breeze. It carried the smell of the campus. Concrete, steel, dirt. The new construction smell of the dorms lingered in the air m, too. Aizawa kept his gaze on the outline of her shadow until he reached her, and he leaned against the sign as he reached her.

He shouldn't be here, he knew. He still saw the fondness in her eyes as she looked at him and knew he should've just gone back inside. She was dressed much like him, loungewear with her hair down. With the light hitting her like this, illuminating the silhouette of she face, he knew he could protect her from everything. Anything. Except him. He needed to leave.

"This couldn't be a call?" he asked.

"I need a favor," Momo said.

He'd already written her referral for Shiketsu. He didn't know what else she might need at this point, and it wasn't wasn't to get more involved than he already was.

"How are the dorms working out for you?" he asked instead.

"They're cramped. The furniture my family sent from home barely fits, it makes me claustrophobic." He could believe that. He remembered that coffin-size space she'd been trapped inside back in Kamino Ward. He imagined the dorms, filled with things, would feel small to him, too. Especially compared to the space of her family's estate. He wondered if her nightmares had gotten worse; he didn't voice the question. Then Momo asked, "How are they working out for you?"

Cheeky bitch. Aizawa smirked.

"It's been shit," he admitted. "It makes work more difficult." She raised a brow, and he saw. Aizawa rolled his eyes. "Don't be a smartass, Yaoyorozu."

Calling her that felt strange. He didn't think of her in his head as Yaoyorozu now, and he didn't particularly like saying it. He didn't like it in class. He didn't like it here and now, but he needed that distance. He needed at least that much buffer.

"I didn't say anything," she said, covering her mouth like that was really going to fucking hide shit.

"My favor—"

He raised his hand between them, cutting her off. "I already know what you're going to ask, and this definitely could've been a phone call."

"You know?" She let out a sigh that had carried the weight of a heavy burden. He blinked in surprised. Had she been this apprehensive to tell him she was going to transfer? "So—So you won't do it?"

Won't, he baffled. Won't?

"Won't do it?" he repeated, hearing the dumbness in his own words.

"The recommendation — you'll decline to write one? Shiketsu is far less likely to accept me if they don't receive a recommendation from my primary instructor."

Oh fuck. He didn't have the emotional range to handle every thought that went through his kind, blinking at the speed of light like neon signs he was driving by much too quickly to actually read. He remembered her father's words now, how Aizawa had let himself believe him instead of asking Momo herself the way he should've.

"Shit, Yaoyorozu."

Aizawa's head dropped and he let out a breath heavier than her own, raking his hands through his hair. Pissed. Pissed at her father, pissed at himself, pissed at the whole situation. Pissed because Momo should leave, because he needed the distance, and pissed that he really…fucking didn't want her to go. Fuck.

"I already wrote it," he said.

"You what!?"

The guilt he felt was nasty. Like he'd betrayed her. Fuck, he had betrayed her even if he hadn't intended to.

"Your parents asked if I would write a letter of recommendation for you to transfer to Shiketsu. I already wrote it and it's already been turned in to the school."

"Why would you do that!" He blinked in surprise, and Aizawa winced as she dropped to the ground and struck the stone sign with her fist. "Why the hell would you do that?!"

"Your mouth," he said, much colder than he meant to. "I'm still your teacher. I did it because I thought those were your wishes."

Her hands flew up in the air, gaping up at him. "Why would I want that!"

Aizawa turned to her. He was deflecting now and he knew it, and he felt awful for it, but it was fucking word vomit, he couldn't stop it and if it didn't come out his mouth then it's just spew out his nose instead.

"Why wouldn't you? You have made your discomfort in our situation clear, and I made a point of telling you that you had a way out of UA if you chose to take it. Then your parents approached me to submit a recommendation on your behalf. Why was I supposed to think you did not want to leave?"

Momo rose onto her knees and he could see how the moonlight glistened in her eyes.

"I wouldn't leave. I wouldn't leave you."

Then don't.

It was right there at the tip of his tongue, and Aizawa felt the rigid mess in his body as he held himself back from it. Held himself back from dragging her off the ground to pull her in. The effort left him quaking. All he had to do was say it. He shouldn't say it. Just say it.

He standing right here, looking right at her. Why couldn't he communicate it?

"Going to fuck her right here in the open, Danchou?"