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Beep...beep...beep....
The EKG machine was the only noise filling the devoid silence. Curtains were drawn in the sterile all white hospital room. The scent of bleach and death filled your nostrils. It was late into the night, you knew that much. The quiet hours, when not a car horn was heard or the bustle of people in daily life. Sleep would not come in the chair you were currently sitting. You even tried laying your head on the bed of the patient you so adamantly resided by….in all the years you have known the man, never had you seen him so fragile.
It has been two days since the attack. Shigaraki and the Paranormal Liberation Arc had pounced and killed uncounted citizens, and Pro Heroes. You feel a lump in your throat begin to rise, chest tightening. ‘Stamp it down….be strong...he is all you have.’ A large shuddered breath releases from your lips. Now is not the time nor place to have a melt down. He could possibly wake at any second! At least, that is what you have been telling yourself these last 48 hours. You physically feel yourself tense and shudder. ‘I refuse to give in yet...not now...just a little longer’ Your hands run through your hair, gripping the roots to attempt to ground yourself.
Looking back on the years you had known this man, you in no way ever pictured being here. When the news broke all you could focus on was if he was safe. Selfishly you wished he was too far away from the attack, halfway across Japan on some mission for the Commission. A joke considering he was known as the hero who goes too fast. A hollow dry laugh comes forth from your parched throat. When did you last drink water? When you even last even eat? Doesn’t matter, nothing matters right now. Not until you see molten golden eyes open. Not until you feel a grip from the hand you so desperately hold. Why him? Why now?
Tears once again leak from your eyes silently.
A still sob racks your shoulders, yet no noise comes out. Your voice far to horse from the hours spent in this same position. Pleading with whatever Gods there may be once more asking for his life.
Beep...beep...beep…
‘Wake up...please...my life for yours….anything…’ Tear stained cheeks, you glance up. He is so weak. How could this happen? You raise your other hand. Gently, you splay your fingers through the sun kissed golden locks. “Please….”, you croak out into the silence. No flutter of his eyelids, not even a twitch of his broken body. You feel the stone cease in your stomach for the 100th time since you've been beside him. It isn't fair!
You watched the reveal of Endeavour by the villain Dabi. You watched as young students fought as if they were adults. Being quirkless, you felt completely useless. This Shigaraki….this Dabi...you think of them and feel bile rise. What is happening? Did the Hero Commission truly create these monsters? Is this what having a quirk creates? In a sense of irony, you feel a slight sense of relief. You could never experience this level of villainy or the drive to become a hero. All you could offer is compassion and understanding to these warriors; these heros...
Beep...beep...beep
His fascination with you as teen was probably one of the large reasons he took to you. There was nothing special, no defining trait. It was a freak incident how you both met. A meeting of chance really. You were grabbing a coffee late at night from a vending machine intending to take a walk. As you turned with your drink, there stood a young man who couldn't be older than 16 at the time slumped over in the alley across the dead street. What captivated you was the large crimson wings protruding from his back as he was slumped over. He looked exhausted. You approached and offered the black coffee can you had just purchased, unopened and no words exchanged. The eyes that met yours were piercing, a bird of prey. He eyed the drink and the first words out of his mouth in a light lit manner, “I just happen to like mine sweet.”
It went to say you bought him 3 cans of sweet coffee and sat with one another on a bench in a nearby park. You gave your name and what you currently were up to in your average existence. Ever since then, you would meet in the same park to just either sit in comfortable silence or chat about nonsensical subjects. After a few months you got a name to call the man...Hawks. You knew it wasn’t an actual name. With your reasons of deduction, you guessed by the bags under his eyes he was working to become a hero. It wasn’t uncommon to see in the city with those who were training or who were heroes. The thing was you never pried.
For almost 2 years you would regularly meet in the park once or even twice a month, no matter the weather for these interactions. No true personal information ever came from this man known as Hawks. Most often you would feed the space with conversation about the mundane activities you experienced in a day. He was intuitive and could give reactions that were almost therapeutic. You valued him for these exchanges. The thing was you didn’t know until much later, he needed the mundane. You didn’t understand until much time had passed that it meant more.
After several months on that park bench sitting alone with coffee it began to add up that you knew something changed. Once many months and days later, on a bleary rainy Tuesday watching the news, you knew. Flashing across the screen in large letters were “HAWKS saves a collapsing building full of citizens”. The warmth in your chest grew. So this was the being who would sit and listen to you. You wanted to be selfish, but in your soul you knew he was destined to be something so much more than most.
Beep...beep...beep…
Glancing up you truly allowed yourself to take in his current state. To really chew and digest the kind of condition he was in. Burns….so many burns. Wrapped up tight as if he were a mummy. The respirator bringing oxygen is covering half his face; covering the face you had grown accustomed to. Whatever happened to those easy smiles, full of a carefree nature? ‘Please...anyone, but him...I”ll give anything…’ The thoughts leaked out. Anyone but him is all you could comprehend. Another dry sob wracked your parched throat. If you could just sacrifice anything for him to be whole.
Why were you the emergency contact? What could you have possibly have offered the number two hero? Chance meetings...and meetings on your deck once he became someone. What did you have? Hawks, after long days would just show as you sipped wine.. You never pried, you were just a warm regular presence. He would merely ask about your day and move on, but always came back for the sweet coffee you managed to brew. You continued to roast coffee for him and made it sweet, milk, sugar...all of it. The importance was stability, a quiet place.
He needed a quiet moment, that is all you were meant for. A reprieve for those with quirks or fervent emotions. So waking up at 11 p.m, suddenly finding yourself his emergency contact, shook you on a level you couldn't handle. You remember entering the bleached walls. All of it was a dream, right? Unfortunately, his EKG heart monitor was going along with his respirator. He was badly hurt, and he needed you. So you sat and cried. The pain can never be captured, all you want is those vivid eyes!
‘Keigo...please…’ Both of your hands left his hair and gripped his shoulders. Desperation, pain, distress and a slow sense of torture rises. Keigo isn’t awake! You met him as Hawks, he mentioned his name once. It was a quiet starry night. You promised to never speak it, and he trusted. You promised to never speak that forbidden name....
"KEIGO TAKAMI!!!", lethargic muddy golden eyes blink open.....Y/N....baby?