Work Text:
Keigo’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s not unusual, but the hour is. Frowning, he pulls it out, sighing as tender ache blossoms in his chest. It’s Shouta, and all he’s sent is a blue heart emoji.
Shouta isn’t usually one for emojis, but sometimes, when words are too hard, a single emoji can say more than he can - express the things he can’t bring himself to say. Asking for help is hard, even more so when you’re trained to help others but never yourself. Shouta is proud, so when he sends that single blue heart, Keigo knows his boyfriend is past his limit, and the instinct to protect and save Shouta kicks in, even if Keigo is tired and broken too.
Kicking off of his agency's rooftop, Keigo flies through dark rain, wind whistling around him and cutting his cheeks. He doesn’t hear it, though. Doesn’t feel it. A million scenarios, mundane to catastrophic, are looping in his head, his heart beating a touch harder than it should for someone in such good shape. It’s probably just Shouta’s nightmares again. Even so, neither of them can afford the peace of mind to keep the ghost of what if away for long, especially when Keigo is all the way across the city from their apartment.
Unlocking the door, Keigo slips into their shared apartment, his blood slowing at the silence that greets him. He finds Shouta in the dark, tangled in their sheets and shaking. Shucking off his uniform, Keigo climbs into bed alongside his boyfriend. He untangles Shouta and pushes a lock of sweaty hair away from his brow, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“Which one was it this time?” Keigo hums, settling in beside Shouta, wrapping a wing over them in a canopy of comforting crimson.
“USJ,” Shouta whispers, eyes squeezed shut, breath shallow. There are too many demons that crowd Shouta - too many ghosts he can’t bear to name, haunted by faces he can’t forget and people he couldn’t save.
Against his side, Shouta’s arm tenses, fist tightening in uneven pulses. He’s explained it to Keigo before - told him that he can still feel Shigaraki’s hand on his elbow even though it’s been well over a year since the USJ Incident.
On a particularly rough night, he’d elaborated that he’s haunted by the image of Asui Tsuyu’s face crumbling the way his flesh had and that he can feel her pain as she fades into nothingness.
“That didn’t happen, though,” Keigo’s brow scrunched in thought, his hand never leaving Shouta’s back as he rubbed soothing circles into it. “You stopped that.”
“But what if-”
“Sho,” Keigo breathed, running his fingers through Shouta’s hair. “You know we can’t play that game. You know as well as I do. Don’t do that to yourself.”
“Mmm,” Keigo hums, snuggling closer to Shouta. “Come ‘ere.” Carefully, Keigo places his hand on Shouta’s shoulder, running it slowly down his arm, ghosts over his scarred elbow, fingers trailing down his forearm until Shouta’s fingers rest in his hand. Keigo pulls the hand up to his lips, kissing each fingertip and then each knuckle. “You’re safe. I’m here.”
With a gentle sigh, he tightens his grip on Shouta’s hand, holding it against his chest, eyes wandering up to watch Shouta. Shouta’s breathing evens out, and he opens his eyes, meeting Keigo’s gaze.
“How did you get so good at this?”
Keigo smiles. It’s a sad one. His eyes are warm and affectionate, but something deeply blue swims behind his ochre irises. He sucks his lip in for a moment, worrying it in thought. He offers Shouta a subtle shrug that earns him a small, knowing nod. In silence, they share the sad joke that they can’t speak aloud.
“Thank you.”
“Nah,” Keigo murmurs, releasing Shouta’s hand in favor of holding his face. “I was dying to get home to you. This just gave me a practical excuse to leave my patrol early.” Shouta rolls his eyes, but he looks relieved.
There’s a lot that Keigo and Shouta can’t do for each other - can’t take away their fears, their worries, the danger that follows them - but what they can do, they do in earnest, giving their all to each other. Going beyond.