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Standing outside the door, Keigo nearly turned tail and ran. Though one would never guess from the surface, his heart was racing. It was skipping beats in some places and thumping far too fast in others, adrenaline spiking through him. Sweat coated his palms as agitation rose up within him. Nothing compelled him to do this. No one would make any disappointed judgments should he turn away and leave.
But he already made it this far.
The doctor was speaking to him, but he could hardly make out the words. Something about his condition, his time—all the standard things Keigo had already been informed of, courtesy of Endeavor. A sane person never would’ve stepped foot in the hospital if they’d gone through half the things Keigo had.
As the doctor opened up that door, he wondered if this was a mistake of some kind. Maybe, but he was already stepping foot inside.
And there he was. Behind thick glass, sealed in a machine with hooks and wires and every imaginable horror, laid Dabi.
Touya, he reminded himself.
If it weren’t for the slow beep of his heart monitor, he would’ve thought Touya to already be dead. His skin was charred back, his form skeletal and completely still. He was a mismatched work of art, an absolute wreck that was barely being held together.
His eyes, a surprise all of their own (Keigo thought them to be burnt away), opened to look at him. They were cloudy, the blue in them faded. Touya regarded him with the kind of contempt you’d give rotten food.
“Damn,” Keigo started out with. “I had to see it to believe it.” The initial fear had passed, leaving only a mystifying sense of pity.
Touya had once stood above him, blue flames all consuming as he looked down at Keigo, ready to guide the wounded hero to his end. Now Keigo stared at the living corpse, observing his slow march to death.
Touya was yet to speak to him, so Keigo kept on going. “I heard from Endeavor and the doctors that you don’t have a lot of time left.”
“En…deavor… ” he rasped out. Keigo’s lips curled into a frown. Touya never had the voice of an angel, absolutely not. It was worn and withered from years of smoke and vengeance, but captivating all on its own. Now it was a miracle he could speak at all.
“Yeah,” Keigo said coolly. “I’m surprised he let me have a day with you, since your time’s limited and all.”
He could’ve sworn that Touya scoffed.
“I’m just here for one last chat.”
Images flashed in his mind, sensations following suit. Lips pressed against each other, the tug of hair sudden and forceful. Plush sheets spread beneath bodies that had become entangled with one another. But it was not accompanied with gentle promises and a warm light. No, they were together due to malice. Obsession cascaded down onto them, drawing them together and unleashing a rage that cut like a knife. Disgust nipped at Keigo every time he left, its bites becoming more vicious the longer it went on. Even just standing here, he felt it, like a dog that refused to let go of its toy.
It was never love, what they had. No, the flames that burnt the wings from his back made sure of that. It was never love, but never complete hatred either. In that moment, Keigo finally saw it for what it was.
An understanding.
Touya possessed the ability to see right through him, even from the beginning. And now, looking at him through the glass, Keigo liked to think that he could say the same.
He saw a murderer. A dreamer. A child.
He saw himself.
“I’m the president of the Hero Commission now,” Keigo told him. “It’s going to be different.”
Touya, in his heart of hearts, laughed. A grating and painful nose, but a laugh all the same. “You’re… so stupid,” he wheezed. “Y’hear me?”
Keigo’s expression remained unchanged. “Maybe,” he said. “But I’m an optimistic guy. What happened to us will never happen again.”
“They’ll always happen,” he hissed. His heart monitor began to pick up speed. “Behind closed doors… where no one can see… not even you ."
“You can think whatever you want,” he said. “After all, you’re never gonna see outside these walls again… but I’m always gonna try. I have to try.”
“You’re their dog,” he whispered. “Always gonna be. Flightless bird in a cage…”
“Gee, thanks. Like you care so much.” The scars that crept along his face and the burnt tapestry of his back were evidence enough against that notion. Every time he faced himself they would be clinging onto him and even in the years where they would fade, there would always be that permanence. That reminder. He would look at where they came from. The choices that led him there, and the choices that could have saved him. And then, he would ask himself where he was going next.
“It’ll take years for things to really change,” Keigo continued. “And even after I die, change will still happen. I just gotta put in the work to make sure it’s the right kind.”
“Idiot…” Touya breathed out. “No such thing… as true… heroes…”
“I’m sorry you believe that,” he said, and he meant it, too.
Touya was doomed to the past. Keigo wanted to focus on the future.
“Drop… dead…” he spat with all the venom he had left.
Not before you, Keigo said silently.
It was all Touya could accomplish, the rest of his words sputtering out and descending into nonsense as his breathing became erratic. This was his limit, then. He closed his eyes, shaking and gasping but unable to get the words out.
A few doctors flooded into the room and he took a step back, watching them attend their machines to stabilize him. He let them do their work, his face listless and hollow.
“Goodbye, Touya.” He dipped his head to the man, a sudden lump in his throat. Whereas he doubted his ability to enter the room before, now he felt like it was impossible to leave. For a moment his feet felt planted in the ground, thick roots spreading for miles underneath and tethering him there forever. But then the moment was gone, and he was moving, and his back was turning to Touya, and the lump was gone.
It was a strange feeling to leave the hospital. It was twilight when he emerged outside, a dark blue overtaking the sky and swallowing up the dimming reds and pinks.
He would've liked to say that he wouldn't mourn.
This was how it had to end. How it was always going to end. They each had their own hopes, their own desires, and the twisted affinity they held for the other was never going to change that.
Even so, there would be nights where he would close his eyes and remember that azure gaze and cold, rough hands. He’d remember the stabbing remarks and then the silence they laid in afterwards.
As he got in his car, something akin to relief washed over him. It was all over, now. For better and for worse, it was over.
No, he realized, not completely. In the years that would pass, he would remember Touya. He would carry a part of him everywhere. He’d see a passing shadow and for a moment spot dark hair and stapled skin, only to chase after it and find nothing. Maybe he’d have a dream of what could’ve been, of white hair and playful eyes before waking up in a cold sweat, haunted by the very thought of it. He would think of him at the smell of ash and cigarettes. Sometimes he’d even feel him at his side, only to turn around and find nothing.
Touya was a scar all of his own; maybe the worst of them all. He was a contradiction, something that should have never happened. Never before had Keigo felt so seen yet so despised. Never before had he so agonizingly craved and detested someone’s touch.
He would not weep over the loss, but he would not celebrate either. He would think of him, maybe think of him so much that it drove him mad, but he would keep going. Because it was all he could do.
The engine of his car rumbled to life as he twisted the key. He hated driving, but it was all he had now, and it was the only thing that took him away from that hospital. The car drove him further and further until it disappeared into the horizon, taking the last of the sun with it.
His hands gripped the wheel a little tighter.
“Goodbye,” he said again, this time a whisper.
And, should there be any life after this one, he hoped their paths would never again meet.