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If somebody had told Winged Hero: Hawks that one day he’d be allowed to enjoy winter in a warm house, away from duties, not having to brave the cold, the bad weather and the exhaustion while working as usual, saving people, giving interviews, pretending it was just another day in his life, that he had friends, plans for the holidays outisde of the same old exhausting routine… Well, if they had told him all that of course he wouldn’t have believed them. The work was the price he had to pay to fulfill his dreams of helping people, what had gotten him acceptance and tutoring, a roof over his head and a full stomach every day (except when he misbehaved, but that was deserved, wasn’t it?). It was the routine beaten into him since the first day of training, all those years ago: how to get through it all without a moment to rest, how to smile through the pain and never stop because people needed to be comforted, and when they looked into his eyes they couldn’t see weakness or fear, only strength and determination, an anchor to their hope when they were in danger.
Then the war happened, and the sandcastle of his ideals and beliefs crumbled to the ground along with the commission. He wasn't a blind believer even before it all, time and experience as a hero had let his avian eyes see the cracks in the society he lived in, in his own ruined childhood; he had always kept his doubt secret, believing that the wrongs could be fixed, that heroes like him could be the glue to put their society back together, since the Hero Commission was still doing mostly good, and mostly good was still better than whatever the alternative could be (maybe not better than Stain’s ideal society, but definitely more than what could be if they followd the means he decided on to achieve it).
He lived in the same precarious balance as hero society, and didn't realize how frail the base he stood on truly was until Shigaraki turned it all into dust. Way before he did it literally, it was him and the League of Villains that made him realize just how fucked up things were, just how much hero society abandoned those who it did not deem worthy of a chance at life: what little he knew before he had seen in the tales of criminals, and they weren’t all that willing to tell the long story of what brought them to that point. the League of Villains didn’t have many issues with that, especially when they tentatively began to see him as one of them: first was Twice, friendly and easy to trust, barely a criminal at all, even if potentially dangerous; Hawks could have called him a friend, but when it mattered the most he chose his duty as a hero over him; he carried that weight, and it wouldn't leave him, for he was the first villain he learned to see as a human being, despite and because of all of his troubles and struggles to fit in. Toga and Spinner reminded him of the parts of himself that the commission made him suppress, harmless but not quite human, even scary to the general public; where he had learned to hide his instincts and distinctive features, theirs were too strong, and marked them as too different, too inhuman for them to be treated by people. As villains, they at least treated each other like people, because actions mattered more than looks when the world considered you a monster.
In the small amount of time he spent as part of the League of Villains (or better, in the Paranormal Liberation Front), he found himself relating to a bit of every one of its members' story or behavior (even the ones who were more private shared some of the signs of trauma he had learned to recognize in himself); he never thought that the feeling was mutual, especially after he betrayed them.
Which made it very surprising to find none other than Dabi knocking at his door, on a seemingly random day in the middle of the mess, asking him to run away from it all together.
Dabi, always the wild card, was there to turn his life around once again, as he irreparably did when he destroyed his idol with his revelation. Born in what many would have called a dream life, he didn’t realize it had become a nightmare until it was too late. The public reveal had shocked him when he saw it while recovering, and even more when he had the subject’s direct point of view: the man had been dead to his family since he was barely more than a child; burnt in the flame of his own ambition (or more likely his father’s), Touya’s starry eyed admiration had quickly turned into a hatred just as strong, as life in the streets forged his new heart in cynicism and distrust for hero society, completing the job his father had started of toughening his spirit where his body was lacking, completing the steel walls built around his heart.
He could never believe fully into Stain’s ideals, not when he had seen his biggest dream destroy itself as he realized what was behind it; he believed Shigaraki even less, he spoke too much of destruction and not enough of what would come after, and he knew it would end in the same old shit , that the outcome of the war wouldn't ultimately change the human greed for power.
No, he hadn't joined for an idealistic reason, but Stain’s actions had brought him to a realization: that heroes were humans, mortals, they could be harmed, and even his father was one of them. Stain broke that bubble of hero worship he still subconsciously had, and solidified his one ambition: to be the cause of Endeavor’s downfall, to bring his ruin by whatever means possible, even if it bought him down as well.
He thought he had reached his goal pretty easily, but when he realized the public opinion of his father didn’t really change after his revelation, he started growing restless.
If that couldn’t work, the only way the pain Endeavor had caused him would end with the man's life. He couldn’t send another High End Nomu (it wouldn’t be as effective either, as the heroes knew what they could do), and he didn’t have any chance to survive a direct confrontation, which was his only remaining option.
As he devised his suicide plan, he was called in for a meeting with Shigaraki: drunk on power and almost unrecognizable the sight scared him to his core: he saw in his ambition and greed the same monster that haunted his dreams, and he couldn’t be on that side anymore, no matter how much it secretly hurt him to leave it all behind (for how much he denied it, the League had become a sort of second family, so it felt like abandoning his entire life once again, but there was no option).
He left, and walked for a long while, used to the shadows enough not to get himselft caught even as his thoughts went all over the place, lost once again as he was after his "death". What was he supposed to do, who was he supposed to follow when he had fallen into the same trap once again? What use was there to sacrifice himself to kill his father when monsters like him were all around? He felt very tired all of a sudden, and just wanted to go away from the mess.
As he walked down the ruined city streets, he planned his escape (which was going to have to be hurried, since they probably thought he was a traitor now): he realized he couldn’t disappear on his own, as he was too noticeable; once he could have hidden his tracks pretty well, but blue flames weren’t as inconspicuous nowadays, so he needed to ask for help, and there was a man he knew wasn't capable of greed, and was probably able and willing to run away unnoticed.
Which was why he found himself knocking at Hawks's door, vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in a long time, asking the only man as desperate for freedom as himself to find them a way out. He told his story, the only bargaining chip he had left, and the only one he needed, if they were as similar as he hoped.
The two of them found an agreement on that day; as they talked and talked, baring their true selves for the first time in their lives, they realized the unique opportunity they had in front of them. They found someone they could count of, a way out of what seemed like a doomed end, as what they had thought of as their fate became too much for them. They were too young, had so much to live, had never yet to experience the simple joys of life; in that moment they realized it was their only chance of getting them, of finding some sort of peace, and they found themselves craving it.
So they ran away, using every resource, every contact they had left to flee undisturbed, while society crumbled around them, even faster with their role in the war suddenly vacated.
They found a place in the Japanese countryside, a secluded little farm in the northernmost part of Hokkaido.
Fleeing Japan seemed like the safest option at first, as a wanted criminal and a deserting hero, but seeing as the progression of the war had caused the involvement of international authorities in what had become a worldwide issue, they decided to hide in plain sight (it also allowed them to maintain useful contacts, as well as not getting more attention than necessary, which they would have gotten as foreigners).
They settled into a little farmhouse, where they slowly got used to living a simple life, and started the long process of healing, both in body (especially Dabi) and in mind.
It was hard at first, getting used to the drastic change; they took it out on each other more often than not, and it was surprising that they both survived that first stage: it was probably because of the one boundary they established almost immediately (many other would follow, as they learned to live together): no quirk use was allowed. Not only it would attract unnecessary attention, but their quirks were so strongly linked with their past lives that it was an unfair weapon in their fights, as well as a painful reminder of the life they were trying to get over; quirks had only complicated things, and all they needed now was simplicity.
Little by little, they found a balance, they figured out what they liked and what they didn’t like in their new lives; they divided responsibilities and chores, first in the house and then in the small farm that they created. At Keigo’s insistence, they got some hens, and the amount of effort they had to make for free eggs and crops filled up their time, as well as giving them the joy of watching the birds' lives, which was very entertaining, especially when Keigo joined them.
Their relationship improved through forced coexistence, but it wasn’t until a rainy autumn day that they realized there was more to it than tentative friendship and mutual attraction, and now they had one more aspect of their life to explore and enjoy, small steps that were so precious as they added up and built mutual trust in their budding relationship.
Quickly, it became winter, and they couldn’t work the fields anymore (except for the little greenhouse area they had managed to get working just in time), so they had more time to themselves. They decided to celebrate Christmas, as it was close enough to their birthdays to have a little party without the burden of difficult memories, and it gave them something to do (they got bored very easily, even now that they had ways to get distracted).
They went to the closest town and got decorations, as well materials to make more and keep themselves busy. Dabi learned a few fancier recipies, and they had a great and abundant meal; Keigo managed to sneak in a santa hat for himself and some antlers for Dabi (he grumbled whenever he remembered, but kept them on). Dabi made fire in their fireplace, the old fashioned way, as he had to learn because his bird boyfriend got cold very quickly, and using his quirk was more trouble than it was worth (Keigo wouldn't have minded, but any occasion to fight boredom and learn something was appreciated).
They snuggled on the couch under a few blankets, some of which handmade (they were learning to knit, and while Keigo’s blankets were definitely messier, both were cozy enough when they shared them), a cup of hot cocoa to accompany their chitchat, which turned into chocolate flavored kisses as they watched the crackling fire lie harmless in front of them. Outside it was snowing pretty heavily, so they stayed in their bubble, isolated from whatever was going on in the world outside.
Afterwards they treated the other to a massage, which was a skill they had mastered during those long months, and some might say the foundation of their relationship: Keigo needed his feathers preened, and his back got a lot of tension from holding the weight of wings all day, and also had some painful days as reminders of a few unfortunate accidents during his hero career; the gentle care of preening and massaging done by another gave him the energy on the bad days and left him relaxed and grateful on the good ones. The same was for Dabi, except tended to have bad days than good days, due to the gravity of his burns and the irreparable damage to skin and muscle that chronic quirk abuse had done to him; Keigo tried to find whatever cure was available to them, but it was hard to access anything useful without attracting much attention, so they mostly had to settle for gentle care and massages to his scars, to relieve as much of the muscular tension the pain caused as possible, as well as promoting blood circulation and cell renovation, if that could still be done.
Even without considering the possible medical benefits, the attention felt nice to both of them, and the intimacy strengthened their bond as it became part of their routine and one of few direct ways they could communicate their affection to the other when words still failed them.
That night they took their time, alternating the actually useful part to more affectionate touches, kisses and caresses whenever they felt like it. By the end, they were both incredibly tired, and went to their bed, cuddling to sleep.
They didn’t know what the outside world was like anymore; they had decided months before that they didn’t want to live in fear, but rather enjoy the time they had, however long or short it was going to be. It could be their last day together,or the last day of their lives, but they couldn't really know, so they might as well try and enjoy what they had in the meantime. Sure, they still had nightmares and panic attacks, and moments in which they felt doomed, that they couldn’t escape their past, or that they were going to get caught; they supported each other through those dark times, reminding the other of what they had in the meantime, how much they had built and how much there still was to do.
They learned to live life step by step, day by day. And if their current dreams (the happy and hopeful ones) looked more like feeding chickens and wearing overalls than saving the world or destroying it, well, they couldn’t find it in themselves to feel ashamed for how boring they had become, because boring was becoming a synonym of happy, as long as they were together.