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“Too fast, Takami Keigo.”
Everything burns. How do you know my name?
“You killed Twice! How could you? ”
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
“Who are you?”
A huff. “You should have figured it out, Keigo. I’m Todoroki Touya.”
No.
“Your life is another thing I don’t care about.”
You’re lying.
“See you around, Hawks.”
DON’T LEAVE.
Keigo shoots up in his bed, the end of a scream tearing his throat apart. Reflexively, he reaches for the left side of the bed but it’s empty and cold. It has been empty and cold for weeks.
He contracts his back muscles, calling for his wings to protect him, to wrap around him like a cocoon.
Nothing happens.
Nothing will ever happen anymore.
He grits his teeth, eyes tightly shut in a furious attempt to keep the tears behind his eyelids. A soft chirp and a light weight in his lap force him to reopen them. He’s met by two wide blue eyes and a tearless sob wracks his chest. Pigeon raises on her back legs, her soft paws pressing against his chin.
He picks her up, sticking his ear on her ribcage to listen to her purrs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She mewls softly, kneading her claws in his shoulder.
He remains like this for as long as Pigeon allows him before she gets sick of sitting still in his arms. He remains in his cold bed, watching the sun rising above the city, coloring the sky in purple and red. Everything feels so cold lately. Inside and outside.
His alarm goes off at 7 am. He doesn’t know why he keeps it. It’s not like he’s expected anywhere.
He shuts it off.
Roll out of bed.
Shower.
Dress.
Every gesture is automatic and foreign at the same time. He feels unbalanced. Empty.
Look in the mirror.
He looks like hell. But who cares, really? Not him, at least.
Nothing matters. Not anymore.
He goes to the entrance door, where Pigeon has resumed her endless watch. She’s barely moved from her spot since…
Since Dabi stopped coming back home.
Keigo can’t blame her. He has spent countless sleepless nights sat next to her, watching the door that would never open again.
Keigo pats her head, grabs his keys, and leaves the apartment. The elevator is so slow. He got used to the slowness. Everything takes ages now. It’s okay. He doesn’t have any reason to rush anymore.
Hidden behind a face mask, no one recognizes him. Without red on his back to signal his presence, he’s just an anonymous face in the crowd. No more bird. No more hero. Maybe not even a man.
A ghost.
He hops on the subway, surrounded by other grounded people. Slow slow slow.
His phone pings in his pocket. Rumi is reminding him of their lunch later today.
When did he agree to lunch again?
Probably never, but he’ll humor her. She’s going through rough times too with the loss of her leg and arm, though she’s braver than him. Tougher. Always has been the baddest bitch in the room.
Keigo leaves the subway at some random station. He doesn’t even know where he is. The city looks different when you’re not up there. Bigger. Suffocating. The sound of a chopper drags his attention to the sky. It’s so blue today. Perfect flying conditions. It wakes up the phantom pain in his back. Muscles flex, pulling taught the tender skin of his scars.
He shuts down the longing in his heart, ignores the pain in his back, and resumes his aimless walking.
The open space of the riverbank gives him the illusion that it’s a bit easier to breathe. He walks and walks and walks, hands in his pockets, mind empty. It’s like all of his thoughts are sucked away by the black holes in his chest and back.
His body is not as strong anymore and too soon, he feels tired. So he sits on a bench and drifts. He’s been doing that a lot since—
His therapist tells him it’s normal. He’s still processing.
Processing what, exactly? The loss of his wings? The guilt? The fact that he fucked-up the only thing that really mattered? And for what? For nothing. The PLF is still going strong. Shigaraki is even more powerful than before.
And Keigo? Keigo has lost everything.
A familiar pull at the back of his mind snaps him out of his haze.
No.
Not again.
Stop it.
The last of his feathers still active. The very last one.
Something warm is pressed against the sensitive barbs, something familiar. Something still loved. Adored. Painfully so. It’s torture. It’s all Keigo has.
Why are you doing this?
What do you want?
Dabi — Touya — kisses the feather Keigo gave him all those months ago, a simple means to contact him if he couldn’t answer his phone.
Just hold it and I’ll know you need me.
It’s like a direct punch to his gut, depriving him of all oxygen. His back itches; his heart breaks for the millionth time. It’s hard to breathe again.
Dabi doesn’t need him anymore. Did he ever need him in the first place? Probably not. Keigo just fooled himself with this... whatever they had. Just because he was lonely, just because he was longing for something normal, he clung to the villain and the scraps of affection he gave.
It was more than scraps.
So much more.
Another kiss and the sensation is gone.
I’m the one who needs you.
Don’t go.
Come back.
Please.