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Enji looks for Hawks everywhere, not once stopping to consider that he would be in the most obvious place he could be, and maybe because he didn’t think of going there in the first place, that means all of this—whatever is going on inside Hawks’s head—is partially, or even entirely, his fault.
He finds him on the rooftop, standing too close to the edge for someone who no longer has the wings to carry him if he takes the wrong step, bare toes curling over the concrete as he balances against the wind, feeble and far too delicate for someone in his position.
He’s never been someone who could be described this way before, but the world has changed. He’s changed. They’ve both lost so much, but Hawks had his own identity ripped from him by Enji’s first born. Enji knows pain, but at the end of the day, he’s still Endeavor. Still Enji. He’s still all fire and regret, but he is wholly himself.
After so many years of fluttering in his cage, Hawks has been clipped and grounded, never to soar again. Or at least that’s what he thinks. He doesn’t say it out loud, but Enji knows him. The little bird is too deeply embedded in his own thoughts for him not to notice when something isn’t right.
“Keigo.”
“Please don’t say that name.”
Enji bites his tongue. Keigo isn’t just Hawks’s given name, and it wasn’t taken from him by the Commission like with what happened to Hawks, it was removed like a parasite meant to eat away at him from the inside, and all it could possibly hold for him now is painful memories.
This first change in identity linked them forever, and he of all people should never have spoken the word out loud. He took his father away, and his actions made Hawks the perfect candidate for a job no kid should have ever had to suffer.
You did me a favor, Big Guy. You saved me. Now give me a kiss so I know you meant it. Wait, come back! I was kidding! Hello!
He’s never known how to be his hero in a way that didn’t hurt him. First Keigo’s and now Hawks’s, and here he is, unable to do anything about the battlefield going on inside this man’s head. Some hero he is.
Enji lets out a breath, steam circling his nose although he doesn’t mean for it to. “Hawks.”
“What are you doing up here, Endeavor-san,” he asks dryly. It’s not even a question, really. It’s more of a polite way to tell someone they don’t belong somewhere, but if Enji looks like the kind of man who cares whether or not he belongs…
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
He laughs weakly, tired and fraudulent. “Is it that weird for me to be up on the roof, Big Guy?”
“Not usually, no.”
Hawks hums. He stretches his arms out wide, and Enji steps forward on instinct. He could catch him. He will catch him. He’s three times his size and as fast as he was in high school, and he won’t let Hawks hit the ground.
“It feels good up here,” he says with a small smile. “The wind whipping through my wi– armpits. Doesn’t quite have the same ring to it, does it.”
Enji expects himself to scold him like he always does, and even Hawks waits long enough for that inevitable gruff remark he always gives, but this is one of the few times where he finds it the hardest to speak to him. What can he say other than the word sorry, and how many times can he say it before they’re both sick of hearing it?
“Did you know you’re my favorite hero?”
Enji swallows. Of course he knows. He hates it. He can think of few titles he’s less deserving of, and Hawks won’t do him the one favor of taking it away.
“You catch the bad guys,” Hawks says. “And I was going to stand by your side. I wasn’t going to let anything keep me from you, actually. Isn’t that hilarious?”
“Hawks…”
“You know I don’t care about all the bad shit. Whatever you did isn’t any of my business. Our skeletons could probably share one closet and save room. Shit, I mean I killed my only friend because I thought I had to, and the more I think about it, I’m not sure I did, you know? So like, no big deal. Your ugly backstory doesn’t involve me at all, but I thought hey, it doesn’t matter! I’ll help him anyway! But who the fuck am I helping like this. They should have just stripped my quirk so I could at least have someone to be pissed at who isn’t fucking Dabi. I shared a 20 piece with that guy. He should have kil–.”
“Don’t.”
He takes a breath and squats dangerously close to the ledge before taking a seat, swinging his legs casually over the side.
“Don’t worry about it, Big Guy. I’m not gonna jump, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just miss air. Fuck, my feet hurt all the damn time now, and my scars hurt, and my back itches, and if I never fly again, what’s the fucking point.”
Enji walks closer and sits down next to him. “What do you want me to do?”
He thinks for a moment, eyes locked on the city below, and Enji watches his profile carefully. He is scarred now. A once comically beautiful face mirrors his own, and sometimes it’s hard to look at him only because of guilt. What kind of person’s favorite hero leads them to this? He’s right, they might as well have stripped his quirk completely. No. No “they.” Touya.
Touya took his wings before telling the world his other name, leaving him burnt and exposed like a wound for the public to throw salt on, and it can’t close on its own, but the problem is Enji doesn’t know how to help him. He can’t pat him on the back and make it better because his damned wings are gone.
Eventually Hawks stands up, using a hand on Enji’s shoulder to push himself up, and walks back to the staircase casually like nothing in the world could bother him. Liar. “Nothing you can do, Big Guy. Worry about helping the kid save the world. That’s the job, right?”
And that. How is he supposed to save the world when he can’t do shit to help the people close to him? If this person slips, it’s because of him, isn’t it? The one person who vowed to stay by his side… No one else has ever done that but Hawks.
Of course, there’s Jeanist, but the loyalty is different there. Jeanist is following the best solution to the biggest problem, but Hawks is following Enji, and Hawks makes Enji believe he is the solution even when he doesn’t quite know if he can believe it himself.
He calls out to him, his own voice almost lost in the elevated wind. Hawks turns back and waits, but his expression is clear. I don’t want to hear it. Good thing Enji doesn’t feel like talking. “We should eat.”
Having lunch or dinner or sharing a snack was always the only thing casual about their relationship. Hawks teased him ruthlessly, batting his pretty eyelashes and fluttering his silky, battle-sharpened wings, and it shouldn’t have worked, but he wore him down over time with genuine talks over shared meals, and Hawks never ate enough so Enji took it upon himself to make sure that the Number Two wouldn't fall out of the sky.
That’s what he’s doing now, isn’t it?
“Everything’s closed, Endeavor,” he smiles sadly. “Whole country, in fact.”
“Not everything.”
They’re staying in a three bedroom apartment that was long evacuated and abandoned with everything left exactly how it was when the owners were rushed out to safety. This is how they live now, constantly moving and chasing leads that usually take them to places with no one left, and the three of them are kept at a safe distance from All Might and the boy.
Jeanist isn’t here yet, but he doesn’t expect him to come back until much later tonight so it’s been just him and Hawks for the evening. It’s partly why Hawks not being in the apartment unsettled his nerves in more ways than one.
“Sit,” Enji says, head nodding towards the table. Someone else’s kitchen table. He tries not to think about it. Hawks raises a brow, but Enji doesn’t falter.
“You cooking?”
“I want you to watch,” he says. “Maybe you’ll learn something.”
I want you to sit here where I can keep an eye on you because the last time you were out of my sight for too long, my son lit you on fire.
Hawks chuckles, genuine amusement filling the notes like an old song. “Everyone knows Fuyumi cooks all of your meals.”
Enji doesn’t bother to argue. “And who do you think taught me?”
He hums and sits at the table as he’s told, leaning forward onto his elbows as he makes a point to watch. He supposes this is what he asked for so he should get used to it, but Hawks’s eyes are too birdlike sometimes, and the gaze sends a chill up his spine. Good riddance.
The days of dining out together at whatever restaurant Hawks has his eye on or ordering takeout to eat at the office are long gone. The world is a mess, and that’s a piece of normalcy it’s best not to long for, but there’s still some access to food. War has changed their world, but still they manage.
Enji doesn’t aim to impress. There’s chicken in the fridge because that’s Hawks’s favorite and some things can’t be given up, a bag of produce, and a few packs of instant rice. They’re used to moving from place to place too fast to “settle down” so this is enough for three people with relatively strained appetites. Jeanist won’t mind reheating his share when he gets back.
“What’s on the menu, boss?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“He tells jokes,” Hawks laughs.
“Didn’t you know I was originally going to become a comedian instead of a hero?”
“Really?!”
“No.”
Hawks makes a dejected noise and frowns, and Enji turns away so Hawks can’t see the amused smile on his face. He continues to prepare the meal by chopping up the vegetables with a borrowed knife. It feels strangely familiar for them even though he can’t remember ever intentionally cooking for Hawks. Especially in someone else’s home.
“You don’t need to call me your boss.”
“You said you’d kill me if I called you daddy.”
Enji looks over his shoulder and glares, and Hawks beams back at him, succeeding in finally getting the reaction he wanted. Whatever, at least he’s a little bit more like his usual self when he’s insufferable. “I meant we’re partners now. Equal.”
Hawks sighs and sits back in his chair. “Don’t look that equal to me, Big Guy.”
“This team was your idea in the first place. You already coordinate most of our movements, and you take the lead for most of our interactions with the press. What would make you feel more like the equal you are?”
“Being able to fight again.”
Of course. This isn’t a silly workplace power struggle. Hawks isn’t looking to have his name printed on the door and a few business cards. Hawks thinks he doesn’t have a reason to call himself a hero anymore because he lost his wings. Because that’s what he thinks qualifies him to be a hero—his ability to fight and not his willingness to save.
“They’ll grow back.”
“What?”
He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but if they’re here, they’re here.
“Your wings will grow back,” he says seriously. “You will get your feathers back, and you will fly again. I promise.”
“And what if they don’t,” Hawks forces a smile. “What if they never come back? How am I supposed to fight next to you without them?”
“I never took you for a quitter, but if that’s the case then I will have to drag you with me anyway. You can continue being my eyes and ears until you can fly again. That’s how you can fight.”
“A sidekick.”
“A partner.”
Hawks crinkles his nose and looks away. “Sentimental old man.”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“No…”
Enji grunts a laugh and returns to his task. He can feel Hawks’s eyes piercing through his back, studying his every movement like he’s searching for the slightest crack in a facade that just isn’t there. That’s because he means it, this whole partner thing, and he can think of no one more deserving than him.
No one has given up more for this world than the man seated at that table, scratching idly at battle scars he shouldn’t have, and coincidentally, no one has ever devoted the kind of loyalty he has to someone less deserving, and Enji will spend the rest of his life earning the partnership he promises.
“Do you think we can win?”
“I don’t know,” he says honestly.
“Good, I was worried you were writing your victory speech over there with how hard you were thinking.”
Enji exhales and continues chopping. “So does that mean you think we’ll lose?”
“Of course not,” Hawks says. “We’re the good guys. That’s how this works, right?”
The good guys. Neither one of them probably would have ever been called that in a perfect world, but it seems that when hell breaks loose, it’s not the guys with the crystal clear consciences that get to do all the heavy lifting. No, they’re safe and sound in their shelters, no doubt, waiting for the men they could sling garbage at so easily to save them.
I’m not doing this for them.
No, Enji wants to save the world because it’s a world worth saving. He wants a chance for his kids to live long happy lives, whatever that may mean. He does it because it’s his job and what he signed up for. He does it because he wants Hawks to fly again. He wants Hawks to tease him for having gray hair and reading glasses, and if he wants more time he has to…
“Endeavor.”
Enji looks down and sees that the potato he was supposed to cut into cubes has long since been shredded. Perhaps he was a little distracted.
“You wanna talk about it, Big Guy?”
“I’m not interested in talking.”
Hawks chuckles. “And here I thought that was for my sake.”
“Do you want to talk?”
“Not really.”
“Unusual for you, isn’t it?”
He leans forward with his chin propped up on his wrists and flashes his best shit eating grin. “Noticing the little things about me? Quick! What color are my eyes?”
“Gold. Do we have any more potatoes?”
He sighs as he stands up from the table. “You used to be more fun to mess with.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“It is. You used to get all pissed off or like super wigged out. Now you just go with whatever I say. Terrible.”
“Wouldn’t you say that’s an improvement on my part?”
“It takes the fun out of trying,” Hawks says as he looks over their stash of food in the refrigerator. “No potatoes.”
Enji tries not to get annoyed, but damn is that a pain in the ass. If he throws what he already cut up into the pot like it is, it’ll basically disintegrate and be rendered useless and unimportant. The taste won’t even remain. A simpler man might consider this ironic.
“We’ll live,” Hawks says dryly. Enji would rather be teased. He would rather be directly laughed at than have to watch a hollow version of Hawks stare vacantly at his terrible cooking. Bemusement doesn’t suit him.
“Should I leave them out then?”
“I don’t see why,” he says, scratching at the scraps of facial hair growing around his scar. “I like when my food is a little starchy and full of sad, mutilated potatoes.”
Enji exhales a small puff of steam, and Hawks laughs, genuine and bright all at his expense. That’s better. He pretends to be cross with him, bearing his best impression of his own scowling self as he tosses the ruined potatoes in. “Sit down.”
Hawks pokes out his bottom lip, and it’s the end of the world. When did Enji get this soft? When did another human being find the power to break him? Hawks isn’t even family.
That’s a lie. Or rather a misrepresentation of what family is. The old definition Enji has trusted his whole life is that family is blood. Blood was family, and family was blood, and the only people a man could trust were limited to that. Dabi is blood, and look at how that turned out.
And then Enji saw the unbreakable loyalty Shouto and his loud friend Bakugou have for Deku and for each other with his own two eyes. Enji isn’t sure there’s ever been another person in the world that he would willingly die for and run into battle for blindly like that.
Except for Hawks.
Yes, in this new definition of family, whatever it may be, Hawks is his, and that means he has to protect him.
He has to make him strong again.
He has to help him fly.
“So mean,” Hawks pouts.
“You say to the man making your dinner.”
“Oh, don’t let me offend the chef!”
“You couldn’t offend me.”
Hawks leans against the counter and folds his arms across his chest. “I could try.”
“Do you want to?”
He sighs. “Not really.”
Enji smiles to himself.
“What?”
“You.”
He looks down at his feet, hugging himself slightly with his arms. There were times when he would tuck his wings around himself like a bird sheltering itself from a storm. Enji wonders if this is similar, and if it is, what bad weather is he waiting for.
“Are you cold?”
“A little,” he says. “It’s this apartment. Gives me the creeps.”
“We’ll be out in a day or two.”
“And then on to the next,” he frowns.
“I hope you didn’t picture a glamorous lifestyle when you signed up for this.”
“No, I think I pictured worse,” Hawks says. “But I don’t know, holing up in someone else’s home like a couple of squatters just feels wrong.”
“They are compensated.”
Hawks raises a brow suspiciously. “What’s the point then? Where’s the secrecy?”
Enji exhales. “It’s retroactive.”
He laughs. “Ah.”
The room falls quiet again with just the sound of broth bubbling to keep them company. He can see Hawks in his peripheral vision, watching the food more than he’s watching him. He looks tired. If he saw himself now, he might say they both do.
Yes, it’s fair to say they’re both exhausted, but if Enji can get him fed, they can both move on from whatever this is. Hawks will feel better, and then they’ll be back on task, even if that means Enji will have to stand here all night with his failed attempt at cooking a stew.
“Smells good,” Hawks says.
“Fuyumi’s is better.”
“It smells like Fuyumi’s.”
Enji raises a brow, but he doesn’t say anything. How Hawks knows what his daughter’s cooking smells like is none of his business, but it does manage to make his blood pressure rise in a way he doesn’t like.
“She brought me soup and other mushy food while I was healing,” Hawks answers anyway. “While you were still down, I mean. I’ve been meaning to thank her.”
“She’s a good girl.”
“Two outta four ain’t bad. I mean the little one is kinda spicy, but he’s a good kid.”
“Are you trying to cheer me up?”
“I’m just saying, you should be proud! One is nice and one’s gonna be a kick ass hero! You know, if being a hero means shit anymore. Dad of the year, I think.”
Enji coughs. “You have to be joking.”
“Someone has to.”
He already told him everything, so much more than his eldest did in his little broadcast because a lot happened after Touya disappeared that he wouldn’t have known about. Hawks wanted to know all of his dirty little secrets, and Enji needed someone outside of his family to know what kind of person he is— was.
Hawks didn’t care. Hawks still doesn’t care. He’s just out to get under his skin no matter what buttons he has to push, but it won’t work.
“Are you going to watch me cook like this?”
“It’s warmer over here next to the stove.”
Enji hums. He half expects Hawks to try to use him for warmth again like he always does, but this time he keeps his distance. He doesn’t think he likes that very much.
It’s like this until he’s finished cooking.
Enji doles out two bowls of whatever excuse for a meal this is, and they sit together at the table and eat. The silence, once something he considered to be necessary for his digestion, now sours the stew in his mouth and turns the texture into something undesirable.
That second part might just be from the potatoes.
He looks over at Hawks who, although once never able to shut up long enough to chew his food, is now staring into the bowl like it can tell him something about his future.
Enji decides to distract him with small talk. He’s sure he can figure out how that works.
“I’ve been a hero for more than twenty years, but you’re the first colleague to ever drag me out to lunch.”
Hawks bristles at the word colleague, and Enji also feels a little absurd for using it. Friend is too personal. Fellow hero is long winded. Partner is redundant when Enji’s only ever had the one.
“It was easier than asking you out,” Hawks teases, a mischievous glimmer in his eye that restores the natural order of things.
“How would you know that when you never tried,” Enji counters, and Hawks’s jaw drops. He tries his best to keep a straight face, but the gawking bird makes it difficult.
“You’re fucking with me,” Hawks says, jaw cocked like he’s just found a shiny new challenge.
“Am I?”
“God…,” he throws his head back and clutches his chest. “Talk about the one that got away! You can’t joke like this to me! I’m like just one more apocalyptic showdown from risking it all, Big Guy!”
“And what if I’m not joking?”
“I’ll die. I’ll actually die.”
Enji hums. “Then I suppose it’s best if you never know.”
“Oh he’s mean,” he accuses. “Cruel and heartless, Endeavor! Purveyor of pain and keeper of secrets! This is the worst day of my life!”
“Are you done?”
“Not hardly,” he grins.
To his credit, they both know the answer back then would have been no. Enji took all of Hawks’s advances in stride, ignoring most of them for a multitude of reasons—professionalism, his family, their ages, his conception of his own sexuality—but that Enji was a fool who confused sticking to a rigid lifestyle where no one got what they wanted with propriety.
But now? None of that matters. He could have ten minutes or ten years with Hawks and the world wouldn’t end. The world may already be ending on its own actually, and it has nothing to do with who Enji looks for when he’s afraid.
He hates that that’s how this evening started in the first place, but now Hawks is here seated at the table, squirming in excitement over the prospect of there being a once upon a time, and Enji is finally able to relax a little.
“I knew I was your type,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Eat your soup before it gets cold.”
That bottom lip returns, and Enji has to look away before it ensnares him.
It always does.
The rest of dinner is filled with more teasing than it is eating, and Enji supposes that means he should leave the cooking to Jeanist, but he needed this. They needed this. He needed the excuse to keep Hawks close, and Hawks needed the excuse to be around someone in a way that didn’t make him feel like he wasn’t supposed to be there.
It was worth the ruined potatoes.
Cleaning up is easy with two people, but that just means it’s over as quickly as it started. Now it’s late, and the night is over, but Enji doesn’t feel like he did enough. Hawks still has that look in his eye like a wild bird wanting to fly away, but maybe he’s not ready to let go yet. Maybe he never will be.
“I’m going to shower.”
“Okay.”
Enji barely fits in the small bathroom, and it’s one of the few times he curses his own broadness. Hawks would laugh at him if he could see him trying to fit underneath the showerhead, but that wouldn’t be appropriate for him to see in the first place.
Of course, Enji would have to point out that Hawks doesn’t fit here either with the two full wings on his back, and a pang hits as he realizes how easy it is to forget that they’re not there anymore. Hawks really did lose everything, and yet he chooses to keep moving forward.
They’ll grow back. They have to.
Within the hour, they’re both clean and ready for bed. Or rather, Enji is ready for bed. He suspects Hawks will sneak off somewhere to sit for the rest of the night alone with his thoughts, and it makes Enji’s stomach twist.
“I’m going to bed.”
“Okay.”
“Will you join me?”
Hawks looks up from his phone, his eyes bulging out of his head, and Enji reviews the words that just slipped out of his mouth. He’s pretty sure that wasn’t the direction he meant to go, but he’s never been the best at reading maps.
“What?”
It does solve a problem. He doesn’t have to wonder where Hawks is when Hawks is next to him. It solves a lot of problems, actually. As terrified as he is, the prospect settles a very specific worry he’s been chewing on for the last few weeks.
But how is he supposed to explain this?”
“Will you spend the night with me?
That probably wasn’t any better.
“Why,” Hawks coughs. Thankfully his ability to joke must have gone down with the terrible stew.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” Enji says. “It would be nice if you were there to stay with me.”
Hawks stands to his feet, wobbly and unsure. It’s not technically a lie although Enji has never been the sort of man who needs someone around when he has bad dreams. Dreams can’t hurt him.
Hawks not being here can.
“Alright,” he says. “Just give me a minute to brush my teeth, I guess.”
Enji goes to his room without a word. His heart pounds from the unfamiliarity, and he takes a few deep breaths to calm his nerves. To say he hasn’t had another person share his bed in a long time would be an understatement, but another man? Absolutely unheard of.
But this is harmless. Hawks will make a few jokes, and they will sleep, and tomorrow they will return to work like usual, saving the world, as Hawks put it, and hopefully this darkness clouding Hawks’s thoughts will be put to rest.
Although he isn’t quite sure if this is still for Hawks or for him this time. It’s been a blur from the start.
Either way, it’s happening, and standing around won’t make him fall asleep any faster.
Enji gets into bed and waits. First he tries lying down and propping himself up onto one of his elbows, but the unassuming position quickly becomes too uncomfortable. Then he sits up and places his hands in his lap, and right when he decides that it looks like he’s waiting for him, Hawks walks in, and now it’s the position he’s stuck with.
“You sure about this? Not gonna scream and kick me out at four in the morning?”
“Not hardly.”
“Okey dokey!” Hawks saunters towards the bed and crawls into the other side, a false bravado that makes Enji smirk. Hawks may be more social than he is, but anyone would sputter when climbing into bed with their senior (or idol, in Hawks’s case). He isn’t fooling anyone.
Enji glances at him once before turning off the bedside lamp and sliding underneath the covers. Their eyes don’t have to adjust because the light in the hall left for Jeanist bleeds into the room, and he can see Hawks watching him carefully, still waiting to be told to leave, no doubt. Enji isn’t going to.
And then in a moment, Hawks flashes a cheeky smile before snuggling up next to him and taking the space inside his arm for himself. Enji’s never had anyone lay like this with him before, but he isn’t too surprised to see how well he fits, a missing piece finally fallen into place, even if it’s a one time scenario.
He presses his face against Enji’s chest, his intentions as obvious as they are ignored. Enji won’t be shaken this time. He’s not going to kick Hawks out no matter how hard he tries.
“Uh,” Hawks says against his collar. “It’s kinda awkward if you just go along with it, Big Guy.”
Enji hums and places his arm firmly across Hawks’s back, blocking his inevitable escape. He knows what he signed up for. It’s time Hawks figured it out too. “Go to sleep. We have an early start tomorrow.”
Hawks falls quiet, his body rigid as Enji holds him in place. It’s clear he didn’t expect to be able to stay after causing a fuss by snuggling him, and he most certainly did not expect for that to be reciprocated, if that’s what this is. Enji will let go if Hawks relaxes and accepts that he’s allowed to be here, though. He’s not a monster.
He hears Hawks exhale as the tension leaves him. His head remains on his chest, and maybe Enji was right. Maybe they both needed this.
It feels nice having a person here. It’s unusual, and he’s not sure if he can sleep like this, but the warmth is completely different than the fire he usually surrounds himself with. It’s a dull and distant glow coming from Hawks that gathers itself inside his chest, and he feels his eyes grow heavy. So maybe he can.
He gives into whatever this is and closes his eyes, letting himself be held, and after a while, Enji grows used to it.
He finds himself idling running his fingers down Hawks’s back, but when Enji’s hand ghosts over where a wing once protruded, he’s met with a quiet sob against his chest. Hawks has never looked so small before. Little bird.
“Does that hurt?”
“Not in a way that matters.”
They are coming back, he thinks. They’re small and easily hidden by his clothes, but as he kneads the muscles around his shoulder blades, he finds that they’re much too sharp to be entirely human.
“I can feel them.”
“They’re not–.”
“They’re there, Hawks,” he says, rubbing the two growing nubs through the fabric of his shirt. “They’re small, but they’re coming back.”
Hawks shakes his head and huffs. “You wouldn’t know, you’ve never touched them before.”
Something about that stings too much. What all has he missed due to his own arrogance?
“I’m sorry,” he says. This time not for the loss or his perceived mistakes that led up to Hawks losing his wings in the first place, but for the fact that Enji never touched his wings before. He never allowed himself to get this close, and now that he thinks about it, none of his excuses were ever good enough. He can make up for that now, if Hawks is willing. “When they grow back, will you let me?”
“Yes,” his voice barely comes out, but Enji hears it, and it’s enough.
Enji continues to knead at the knotted tissue around his scars, becoming as familiar as he can with the shape of the regrowth and memorizing the natural curve of Hawks’s back that came from so many years of flying.
Hawks falls asleep first on his chest, snoring lightly and twisting his hands into Enji’s clothes as he traverses from one dream to the next, and maybe Enji isn’t the only one who’s been having nightmares. Hawks has every reason to have them though, and maybe when Enji pulls him closer, he tells himself it’s only for him. This is how he can help.
He hears Jeanist come through the front door, and he squeezes his eyes shut tight, ashamed of his current position and that he’ll have to explain himself for too many things because of it. He might be a fool, inviting Hawks in like this, but he can’t see a world anymore where he wouldn’t.
And for this one night he isn’t scared. He knows where Hawks is, and he knows for certain that this promise he made him isn’t empty or without evidence.
Hawks will fly again.