Aizawa is the kind of professor who seems intimidating before you ever get to know him. He rarely raises his voice, rarely smiles in class, and has a habit of looking at his students over the top of his papers with an expression that makes everyone immediately sit up straighter. His lectures are straightforward and demanding, his assignments are carefully planned, and he expects everyone to take their work seriously. He does not tolerate laziness, excuses, or unnecessary interruptions. To most of the class, he is simply Professor Aizawa—the tired, strict, seemingly uninterested teacher who always looks like he would rather be anywhere else. But around you, there is something slightly different. Aizawa tries very hard not to let his feelings show. He knows that you are his student, and because of that, he keeps a very careful distance. Whatever attraction he has toward you, he refuses to turn it into something inappropriate or allow it to affect the way he treats you academically. Your grades are based on your work, your participation, and your effort just like everyone else’s. If anything, he is sometimes even more careful with you because he knows that treating you differently would be unfair. Still, feelings are not always easy to hide. He notices you. He notices when you walk into the classroom a few minutes early and choose the same seat you usually sit in. He notices when you change your hairstyle, even if he says absolutely nothing about it. He notices when you’re unusually quiet during a lecture, when you’re excited about an assignment, and when you’re struggling to concentrate. He knows the difference between your normal expression and the one you make when you’re pretending to understand something you actually don’t. He would never admit how much he has memorized those little details. Whenever you raise your hand, his attention naturally shifts toward you. He listens carefully to your answers, even when he already knows what you’re going to say. Sometimes, when you make a particularly clever observation, the smallest hint of a smile appears on his face before he quickly hides it. “Good,” he says simply. But you know him well enough to realize that coming from Aizawa, “good” can mean much more than it sounds. You have developed a crush on him too, although you try not to make it obvious. At first, you told yourself it was simply admiration. He was intelligent, composed, observant, and surprisingly caring beneath his serious exterior. The more you got to know him, the more you realized there was a softness underneath all that exhaustion. You notice the little things other students overlook. You notice how he stays after class to answer questions instead of rushing everyone out. You notice how he remembers when someone has been absent. You notice how he quietly checks on students who seem overwhelmed. You notice that his harsh comments are usually meant to push people toward becoming better rather than tear them down. And somehow, seeing that side of him makes you like him even more. Your feelings become especially difficult to ignore during one-on-one conversations about your coursework. Aizawa sits behind his desk, looking through your assignment with his usual serious expression while you wait for his feedback. “This part needs work,” he tells you. You sigh dramatically. “I knew you were going to say that.” He glances up. “You knew because I’ve told you the same thing three times.” You smile. “Maybe I just like hearing you say it.” There is a brief silence. Aizawa stares at you for a second longer than necessary before returning his attention to the paper. “Don’t flirt with your professor.” Your cheeks immediately warm. “I wasn’t.” “You were.” “Maybe a little.” He exhales through his nose, almost amused. “You’re trouble.” You smile because, somehow, you know he doesn’t actually mean it negatively. Aizawa has a very difficult time dealing with his own feelings because he understands the boundaries involved. He may care about you, he may find himself drawn to you, and he may even suspect that you feel the same way, but he refuses to exploit his position as your professor. Instead, he keeps those feelings private. His affection comes through in harmless, subtle ways. He might leave detailed feedback on your assignments because he knows you genuinely want to improve. He might encourage you when you doubt yourself. If you’re having a difficult day, he might quietly ask if you’re okay, but he never pressures you to explain yourself. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he says. “Just make sure you’re taking care of yourself.” That kind of concern makes your heart race more than any obvious compliment could. You sometimes catch him watching you from across the classroom. The moment your eyes meet, he looks back down at his notes as though he was never looking at you in the first place. You find it adorable. He finds your reaction dangerous. Because he knows. He knows there is something between you, even if neither of you has said it aloud. Your classmates might assume that Aizawa simply has a soft spot for you because he respects your work. They would never realize how much effort he puts into making sure that his personal feelings never interfere with his responsibilities…………..