How Do I Fly Without You?

by WillowBlooms

Summary:

After losing the love of his life to his own quirk, Keigo Takami struggles with being alone, finding comfort in drugs and alcohol but most of all in a stranger's arms. Between the commission's iron grip on his life and his reckless tendencies, the years have not treated him well. Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a broken and misguided Touya Todoroki finds love in the strangest places. But no nights spent curled up next to a blue-haired psycho seem to fill the hole left from his failures and the boy he had to leave behind.

OR

Hawks struggles with the death of his boyfriend and the commission's terrible parenting skills while Touya deals with his own demons and self-hatred just a few miles away. (A completely self-indulgent angst fic about these two being insufferably tragic ... with an eventual happy ending :)

***

Heed the warnings in the tags. I will tag relationship and additional tags as they come up.

Chapter 1: Hawks

I giggle drunkenly, stumbling up the stairs and practically falling through the door. I pull them after me, leading them to the bedroom. The sheets are still messy, rumpled red silk and haphazard pillows.

I shove him down, taking my time to crawl over him, straddling his body. I lean down, locking our lips, tongues dancing and exploring. I feel her at my back, her hands exploring my chest and back. Her lips lock onto my neck, sucking and nipping at the skin sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.

I release his lips, latching onto his neck while my hands work their magic. My fingers travel further down between his legs, feeling him through the thin fabric of his dress pants. He moans, the noise coming from deep within his throat.

My fingers slide under his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal his lean chest. I lean back to pull my own shirt off and she does as well, latching onto his nipple, working it between her teeth. He whines, twisting his fingers in her hair and throwing his head back against the mattress.

Their names are both hazy, lost in the boozy high swimming through my brain. The only thing on my mind right now is her hands undoing my belt and tugging my pants down.

I smile hungrily, helping both of them out of their own clothes until all three of us are sat naked, hands wandering and exploring every inch of skin. I take one of her breasts into my mouth, rolling the nipple between my teeth and tugging on it. It hardens rapidly at the stimulation and she reaches for my wings, grabbing onto them and pulling me closer to her.

His hands are at my stomach, sliding further down until he wraps his entire hand around me. I lurch, moaning. I turn my attention back to him, grabbing his dick and pumping slowly. His breath hitches, turning to small pants in my ear.

She whines, her tongue making it's way down my chest until she takes me into her mouth. Her tongue laps at my tip, sending sparks up my spine. I grunt, turning him around and grabbing the lube from my desk. I plunge a finger into him and he moans loudly. I work the muscles, loosening them enough to take me, while my other hand still pumps him slowly.

His fingers are deep inside her, his thumb rubbing a gentle rhythm into her, one I can feel reflected in the rhythm she keeps on me. The room echoes with the sound of his moans and my low grunts.

I pull back from her, lining myself up and plunging deep inside him. He jolts forward, his head flung back in pleasure. He pulls her forward, burying himself inside of her as well. She groans, grabbing onto my wings and kissing me over his shoulder. My hands work at her breasts. She moans into my mouth, and I shudder.

We keep a rhythm going, back and forth, pushing and pulling. I can feel the pleasure growing in the pit of my stomach and I slow down, making sure we can all climax at the same time. His moans grow more needy and frequent, coming out in short and fast bursts. Her fingers clench in my feathers, and she closes her eyes with a whine.

I rock my hips into him, feeling the pleasure wash over me, practically whiting out my vision as I shout a moan into the empty room. They shout along with me, screams of pleasure filling the walls.

I ride out the orgasm before collapsing in a panting heap on the bed. They both do the same, laying their heads on my chest. Heaviness pulls at my eyes and I succumb to a blissful sleep.

 

*************************************************

I blink slowly, the pounding in my head already making me sick. I need more booze.

I groan, shielding my eyes from the sun to look around. A man and woman lay next to me, completely naked, damp skin pressing against me. I sigh as I struggle to remember what happened last night.

"You were amazing, Hawks." The woman giggles.

Her voice is like needles stabbing into my ear drums and I cringe away, sitting up. Our bodies stick together in a disgusting way and I massage my temples. A pounding headache echoes in my ears.

"How about another round?" The man suggests, his hand rubbing my arm seductively.

I groan, "Look, it was fun. Take a souvenir, make some breakfast, but please get the fuck out of my house."

I don't watch to see the smiles drop from their faces as they scurry to get redressed. They're always disappointed.

It wasn't meant to be a relationship. I wasn't even playing nice. I just needed to let off some steam. It's perfectly alright to do that with consenting adults. It's nothing personal. I'm sure they're great people.

I get up slowly, putting some pants on and making my way to the kitchen. Hopefully I've still got some tequila left over. I soft through nearly every bottle in the fridge and the cabinet and come up empty-handed.

"Shit," I curse to myself, falling into the sofa. I have patrol later on. I can't be a hungover mess for that. A shitload of aspirin and some weed had better do the trick.

I close my eyes, leaning my head back. Blue eyes and red hair swim in my brain. I rip my eyes back open at the sound of laughter. Fuck. I'm losing my mind.

I light up a joint and inhale the poison. If I was high, I couldn't think about him. He always came back to me when I let my guard down. I can't do that anymore. It's been years since he died, why can't I get him out of my head?

Closing my eyes, I let the joint work it's magic, easing the tension in my muscles and coaxing my brain into a calm and just functional enough state.

Today is gonna be shit.

Chapter 2: Touya

Notes:

**Body horror warning for this chapter**
I'm so excited to get this chapter out here though. Reworking this fic has been so much fun. I hope you enjoy!

Pain.

Popping

sizzling

melting

Opening my eyes is like rearranging the entire structure of my face, pulling on places that weren't meant to stretch, tearing the melted mess of what used to be eyelashes. My body is wet and hot and cold all at once. Something is dripping off of my jawbone, cool winter air whistling across my teeth in a way that is completely unnatural.

Father is gone, as I had suspected, leaving nothing but a wasteland of ashes and sputtering blue flames. His face echoes in my memory, spitting in anger, eyes distorted, the real monster within finally deciding to make an appearance. He had brought me out here to 'teach my a lesson.' He called it special training, but that was just to cover up the abuse.

Our training sessions usually began with a string of insults and ended with me lying on the ground, bloody and crying. That wasn't going to happen again. It would never happen again. I'm done taking his shit quietly. I can't do it any longer.

I felt more powerful than usual. I was going to use it to my advantage, go further than I ever had before and show him what I could really do. Maybe I'd even kill him in the process. It's not like I haven't tried before, but maybe this time I could actually succeed.

It was nice when it happened. Like I was finally releasing all of the anger that had been building up for years. The seething, spitting black hole of fury that was only compounded each time little Shoto ran to me, eye purple and swollen shut. It was sickening.

I tried my hardest to redirect his attention, but once Shoto's quirk manifested, I knew there was no pulling the bastard away. Shoto was too soft, too sweet. He wasn't made to endure all the things I was forced to. He wouldn't make it out, and that's the thing I wanted more than anything in the world. Shoto was the only good thing to come out of that house of horrors, and I don't think I'd be able to survive if he were corrupted too.

So whether I realized it or not, my intention was for my father to never leave that dark forest trail. Even if I had to kill myself in the process, that monster had to die tonight.

But I failed.

The last thing I remember is my own screams echoing through the forest, reflecting a sort of terror I didn't know I could still express. Nothing but a child when it came down to the important things.

I know he's not dead. Maybe I remember him stalking away in disappointment, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he's still out there. He probably thought I was dead. He wouldn't have left me otherwise. Or maybe I had finally reached such a level of a lost cause that I was irredeemable to him.

I used to curse whatever gods may have allowed such horror to happen to children. But that was before I realized that they didn't exist. Not in the way that everyone tells you they do, at least. If there is a god, he is an ill-mannered child playing with toys he doesn't understand. If any gods exist, I hate them. And if I am to die on their terms, they'll feel that hatred as I go. Each and every one of them will know what they've done. I'll kill them myself if I have to.

Rage this strong doesn't just die.

My body doesn't respond to me as I try to move, just a numb sensation crawling up and down almost every inch of my skin. I didn't know fire could feel so cold.

I'm freezing.

With a feral cry, I force a hand forwards. The mangled mess that meets my eyes is enough to induce another horror-filled screech. The skin has turned such a color I'm barely sure it's even my own arm I'm staring at. Fingers shaped more like black skeletal spires claw into the ground, fingernails sliding off with ease and lodging into the dirt like tiny gravestones. Worst of all is the sound that movement creates. A horrible crackling, like my flesh had caramelized in place, no longer an organ to be used, but a horrible reminder of my inadequacy.

Everything is stiff and movement lags behind as though my brain is an old computer uselessly trying to tell its outdated software what to do. The pain doesn't even register anymore, just a horribly cold numbness that seeps into my very bones.

I have to get out of here. Before father comes back or my body finally gives out. I refuse to die in a place like this. To lose in such a pathetic way, felled by my own quirk's power. If I can just get out and heal up, I can return and treat him to a proper battle.

One that I will not lose.

My arm won't comply with me anymore. I feel my nerves begging to move, hindered by the hard outer crust that my skin has become. The world spins as I stare down at the flesh, almost purple in color and horribly blistered. My heart beats in my throat as a desperate thought forms.

With a snarl, I throw my other hand onto my arm. My fingers, stuck in their claw-like form easily hook under a visible crack in my flesh. I force out a guttural scream as I drag my fingers down the length of my arm, crusted skin sliding away far too easily. My skin is a color I never thought I'd see on my own body, goo-like in consistency and dripping everywhere and so much red.

I can't even scream at the sight. I can't think straight, the impossibility of the whole thing creating a fuzzy fullness to my head. Getting out is the only thing that rings through my mind.

Digging my fingers into the dirt, I force myself forwards, clawing further away from the clearing. Labored breathing echoes around me but I pay no mind to where it could be coming from. I have to keep going. A frustrated cry bubbles up from my chest, each movement like a thousand years never getting any closer, an endless view of trees ahead and despair quickly tunnelling to the forefront of my mind.

I'll never be able to beat him, even if I do make it out of here alive. I can't feel my body anymore, just a soaking, scorched corpse already half buried in the dirt I'd been dragging myself through. I suddenly become extremely aware of my age, all of 13 years rushing back to me at breakneck speed.

Laughing with Fuyumi and Natsuo...

The first time Shoto's tiny hand grabbed onto my finger...

Mom's smile when I gave her artwork...

Keigo's blond hair tickling my nose as he leans on my shoulder...

Brushing through his red wings...

Picking wildflowers with him when we ran away from training...

I'd never do any of that ever again. This is what it's like to die. It was something I'd thought about often throughout my life, but something I never thought I'd experience so soon. Something I thought would feel like relief, not this terrifyingly numbness.

I've never felt so weak.

The air becomes heavy as the coolness of the earth soothes my body, lungs struggling to pull in even the smallest bit of oxygen. A low noise sounds in my ears, drowning out the crackling of the fire behind me. Each heaving breath happens further and further apart, the numbness turning into some type of acceptance as time itself seems to slow.

This is it.

 

Two bright beams cut their way through the forest, burning streaks into my eyes that I can't seem to find the energy to close. The world begins to blur, shapes melting together into some sort of fever dream. Maybe these are the hallucinations they tell you about.

Brown loafers, an old man, glasses, a white lab coat.

An odd hallucination, but one that seems to bring comfort nonetheless.

I'm sorry mom, I couldn't save them.

I couldn't save you...

Chapter 3: Hawks

Notes:

Thank you guys for sticking around and I hope you're enjoying! We're just getting started.

"You're the local whore, Hawks. You're easy and everyone knows it. How do you expect to have a respectable hero career when all you can think about is your dick?" Hana scolded, staring at me across her steepled hands.

My hangover had been worse than I'd thought and the weed had done little to help. I stumbled around the streets I was meant to be patrolling, eventually bumping into one of the other members of my 'team.' Though I'm not sure you could call us that. Truthfully, we were merely a group of commission agents that had been grouped together based on some statistic of our quirks.

I think the others were just there to watch me.

They'd always be walking around streets that I was meant to cover. It was like they were checking over my work or something, which was infuriating in itself. And as soon as it was clear that I wasn't sober, the prick called Hana almost giddily.

I was tired, nursing a killer headache, and feeling invincibly high all at the same time.

Pissed is what I was.

"I just needed to blow off some steam. It's no big deal, Hana. They didn't get any photos or anything." I roll my eyes, "I don't see why who I choose to bed is your concern in the slightest."

She was always sticking her nose in my business. Ever since I was assigned to her at 14 years old, she never left me alone. I eventually convinced her to lower our daily meetings to weekly once they moved me into an apartment, but even then she was constantly checking in.

She stands from her seat and crosses to stand directly in front of me, "Everything you do is my concern, Hawks. Everything you do reflects on the commission and therefore, me." She hisses, lips pulled together tightly in an ugly snarl.

I scratch at my neck idly, feeling new feather growth marring the otherwise smooth skin, "So sweet to hear you think about me so much, Hana. But I don't think it would work out between us... Frankly, I don't think I'm qualified to teach you everything. I mean, you'd think you're hiding teeth down there how tight those legs are."

My coarse laugh is cut off abruptly by a harsh slap. My head snaps to the side as Hana glowers at me with a fury that I haven't seen in years.

I think the last time I've seen her face so twisted was when I'd tried to run away at 15. And the commission made sure I never did that again. I still had nightmares about that punishment. It was one of the worst ones I'd ever experienced, and I was no stranger to making trouble at the commission.

The stinging in my cheek brought fear bubbling up into my throat. She seemed much larger now than she ever had, or maybe it was that I seemed small. Like a child cowering from an angry parent. She leaned close to me, eyes practically black with anger.

"You'd do well to remember your place in this organization, Hawks."

I know what she meant even if she hadn't explicitly said it. It would take one phone call for her to make my life hell until she saw fit that I had sufficiently 'learned my lesson.' At the end of the day, I've never been anything more than an investment to the commission.

And that's what pisses me off most of all.

"Yes, apologies, Hana." the sound of my own voice so meek makes me sick.

She leans back smugly, seemingly satisfied with the change in my body language. Ever the sadist, I think she enjoys seeing me scared out of my mind. If she could, she'd be sending me to corrections nearly every day.

"We have to find a way to bring your reputation back. People aren't taking you seriously and management is breathing down my neck. They're talking about transferring you to Victor and trust me, he's not as kind as I am."

She crouches down in front of me, reaching a hand out to stroke my cheek. It's something she'd been doing since she'd first introduced herself. I'm not sure if it was meant to be comforting, but it came off creepy as hell. Like she was a lioness admiring a gazelle right before he became dinner. It always sends my stomach reeling, bile raising in my throat.

"Do you want to work with Victor instead of me? You're always so ungrateful for everything I give you, Hawks." She hums, dragging her hand across the back of my neck and down my chest.

I cringe, staring down at the ground as I struggle to regulate my breathing. I don't know why I get so worked up every time. It's pathetic. I'm a grown man, I should be able to handle this.

"No, I want to stay with you, Hana." I murmur out quietly.

Her breath fans across my face as she leans even closer, rough fingers latching onto my chin and forcing my face upwards. I just barely contain a surprised cry at the painful movement and stare into her fury-filled eyes, fear clawing at my stomach.

"You look in my eyes when you speak to me, Hawks. This is a lesson you were supposed to have learned years ago yet you keep breaking it." She releases my chin and stalks back around to her side of the desk, "That won't do."

"I'm sorry!" I blurt out quickly, involuntary tears rushing to my eyes at her tone.

Memories rush to the forefront of my mind, anxiety lighting up my veins painfully as I stare into her eyes. It was like I was 14 again and she was sending me away to corrections, sessions that I never seemed to leave from unchanged.

I don't even think I'd be recognizable to someone I'd known before.

I think he'd be disappointed.

She smirks lightly and nods, "I thought so. But we still have a few major problems on our hands. So some things are going to happen and I don't want to hear a word of complaint." She pauses, giving me a pointed stare. "In place of a visit to corrections, we're going to remodel your apartment in an effort to quell your poor habits, and in order to gain popularity in the public eye, we've set up a deal with one of the most popular local modeling companies and you're cleared to begin work as soon as possible."

My mouth falls open slightly, my mind racing to keep up. They were remodeling. That meant that they were going to find and take everything from me. Every bottle of liquor, every bag of weed, every toy. I'd honestly be surprised if they even left a bed for me to sleep on.

I grimace slightly at the thought, resisting the urge to look away from Hana in shame. This was the form of punishment they used most often. Removal of comfort. It doesn't seem so bad on the surface, but when basic human necessities like a livable shelter or food and clean water had been removed for long enough, anyone would do anything to get them back.

My stomach twists uncomfortably, rage and fear warring for control. I want to shout at the top of my lungs, to leap across the table and let my fists do the talking.

But I can't.

The commission owns me in every sense of the word. A purchase made when I was only 6 years old, I thought it would be better than the hell my own parents put me through. But it wasn't, really.

I'd left one horrific home and gone to another.

"We'll have to send you to the beauty team to get those feathers taken care of first though. Can't have you looking like a monster." Hana quips, grabbing a pen from her desk.

My wings pull tighter unconsciously, attempting to provide a small amount of comfort to her biting words. Apparently my wings were the only bird-like things that were acceptable to have on my body. I got a monthly treatment for the stray feathers that grew up my back and neck that was not enjoyable in the slightest. They'd pull each one and then follow up with some sort of laser that always left my skin red and puffy for the rest of the day. I'm not even sure how they're still able to grow after being tortured so much.

"I think that sounds good, don't you Hawks? I'll notify the beauty team that you're headed down and then you need to go straight home and get some rest. You have a big day in the city tomorrow. Mr. Chen is very excited to meet you." Hana says with finality, waving a dismissive hand in my direction.

I frown and nod slightly, standing and trudging out of the room.

It was becoming harder and harder to justify myself. At first, I was living to fulfill the things that he never got to do. I was going to achieve his dreams to help the people who needed it most. I was going to experience the innocent things that he never got to.

But I hadn't really done any of that and it had been years. I had lived more years without him than I'd known him in the first place, and yet it felt like just yesterday that he left me.

Maybe I could join him if I tried hard enough.

Maybe I'd finally feel peace.

Maybe I'd finally be happy.

Notes:

I am taking inspiration for Hawks' situation with the Commission from Numanum. Their work is absolutely phenomenal and if this is even slightly interesting to you, you should totally check their works out (because they do a much better job than I ever could).

Chapter 4: Dabi

Leaking sewage, shitty cigarettes, and filth.

Smells like home.

I trudge through the streets, heading to the bar that I'd been told to meet at, resisting the urge to grumble complaints under my breath as I went. I normally didn't like to go this far away from my ratty old apartment and the safety that came with it.

But I can't hide anymore.

It had been years since I'd lost control of my quirk ... Since I was reborn.

I've had plenty of time to heal and train and I'm finally ready. I know I can beat him this time around. Everything that was holding me back had been ripped from me that night. I don't have anyone to go home to. I won't have to see the eyes of someone who used to trust me cloud with doubt after seeing the monster I truly am.

I can finally fulfill all those promises I'd broken so long ago.

 

"Fuckin' sock monkey freak." A man mutters as I walk past him.

I stop in my tracks, hood firmly in place over my black hair. I know it obscures the extent of my face, but it's hard to cover up everything. He most likely saw the deep burn marks mirroring bags under my eyes. Or maybe it was my chin, the entire bottom half of my face being lost to my own flames, everything held in place by lines of industrial staples.

"The fuck did you call me?" I growl out, not even bothering to look at the man.

Respect and reputation was a big thing in this part of the city and I can't let this scum ruin mine. It was a conversation I'd had many times before with a variety of insults hurled in my direction. My appearance usually elicits one of two types of responses: terror or disgust.

And I only tolerate one.

He chuckles bitterly, spitting a congealed blob of saliva onto the ground, "You heard me, freak. You Frankenstein's brother or somethin'?"

I snort, finally turning around and facing him, "Frankenstein was the doctor, dumbass. Insults don't really work when you're the stupid one."

He pushes himself off of the wall, peeling his musty jacket off of his arms as he seems to square up against me, "You're gonna learn how to watch your fucking mouth, boy."

His words strike some type of chord within my brain. All at once images of my father flash before my eyes. Shoto curled on the ground, Mom crying on the kitchen floor.

Before I can even regain my eyesight, blue heat surges throughout the alleyway, licking at my nerves like some sort of sick calming mechanism. Breath rips through my lungs at a rapid pace, my eyes blown wide. I wasn't even aware I had gotten so worked up.

Of all the the emotions that were constantly bubbling under the surface of my skin, rage is the most dangerous. It was when I was lost in that corrosive emotion that I always ended up hurting someone. It was like I'd go blind to the world around me, all reason lost to the familiar bite of blue flames.

I never wanted to become a villain, Mom would be so disappointed if she could see me now. I had killed so many people. A seemingly endless list of victims starting with Touya Todoroki and ending with this nameless asshole.

The only thing keeping me from drowning in that list is the fact that every single one of them deserved it in some way.

Or maybe I've just finally become part of the depravity I found so much comfort in.

When the flames finally die down, there's no evidence that the man was ever in the street to begin with, just a sad pile of ashes smoldering at my feet.

I stare at it for a moment before curling my lip, dragging my boot through the pile roughly and turning away.

"Don't fucking call me that." I mumble as I continue my trek down the alleyway.

*******************************************

Gray bricks reach up to the sky, lazy smoke drifting from the half-fallen chimney at the top of the rundown bar. The place looks in surprisingly good shape compared to the buildings around it. The walls completely untouched by graffiti or the concerning smears of some kind of black substance that litter the rest of the area. They must have a massive reputation to be able to keep such a nice place.

Several holiday lights blink above the entrance, directing my lazy path to an old wooden door. Honestly, the place doesn't look as secure as a super-villain hideout should be. That fact only heightens my sense that whoever I am meeting here must be important.

I raise a hand, knocking firmly on the worn wood. I step back, shoving my hands back into the pockets of my coat. The seconds pass slowly as my stomach twists in anxiety. I instinctually feel for my flames, keeping them just under my skin and ready for anything. For all I know, this could be some sort of trap or messed up test. No-one who chooses to live out here is even remotely sane anymore.

A sort of peephole opens up suddenly and gleaming yellow eyes stare out at me. They aren't even eyes really, just glowing shapes situated in a swirling black mist. Must be a mutant-type quirk.

"Ahh, Dabi was it? We've been waiting for you." They say with a rather proper tone.

I falter slightly but keep my body language still, radiating the pissed cockiness I usually rely on, "Yeah. Had to deal with some trash on the way here."

The peephole closes and the sound of a lock clicks before the door swings open. The mist-figure invites me in with the sweep of their arm.

"Oh yes, the area certainly needs some cleaning. Apologies for that inconvenience." They say gracefully.

I furrow my brows slightly, stepping over the threshold and into the warm of the bar. The lights are warm and dull, not the bright fluorescent that I've grown so accustomed to. Holiday lights are strung in almost every corner, giving the place a sort of feeling that I can only describe as homey.

It's not a super-villain hideout at all.

"Welcome to the league's headquarters. My name is Kurogiri and I tend the bar, would you like anything to drink?" They walk silently over to the bar where some others are sat on stools, staring at me expectantly.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'm Spinner. We don't judge based on quirk-mutations or anything like that, so feel free to lose the hood and take a seat." A man with a lizard-mutant quirk says cheerily from his place at the bar.

Another man in a mask sits at the other end of the bar, childishly poking at a young girl who sits next to him, returning the annoying action. At the very end of the bar, closer to Spinner but with a large gap, sits another man with striking blue hair. He doesn't even turn to look at me, face angled down to the cup in his hands, swirling the liquid idly.

Spinner clears his throat loudly and looks at the 3 that have yet to introduce themselves. They masked man and the school girl seem to jump and look towards me while the other man simply huffs, turning just enough to glare in my direction from the corner of his eye.

"You can call me Toga!" The girl calls, hopping up and practically skipping in my direction.

"Jin Bubaigawara, Twice sounds so much cooler." The man in the mask states, watching Toga.

Toga leans sideways to look at my face, eyes blowing wide at the sight. I steel myself for whatever onslaught of insults she's bound to come up with next. This group seems far too friendly. People don't just accept others. Something else has to be going on.

Slowly, Toga's lips pull into an almost manic smile as she claps her hands, "Whoa, you're really freaky!"

The words, despite being an insult, bring a type of warmth to my stomach. The way she seems almost pleased at my scars seems childlike in essence, no malice behind her crazed smile. It's so different from what I usually see that I can't help but chuckle.

When I look back at the rest of the group, Spinner and Twice look almost apologetic while Shigaraki has turned to fully face me, brow raised in curiosity. I look back down at Toga to see her still oogling at the staples lining my chin.

This group seems much more interesting than I had thought.

I sigh slightly, reaching a hand up to slide my hood off and staring directly at Shigaraki. He doesn't even blink, taking in my appearance with calculating red eyes.

"You definitely look the part, Did it hurt?" Twice blurts out, making some hand motion in my peripheral.

I grimace slightly at the question but don't move, holding Shigaraki's stare. The room falls into a tense silence, just watching the two of us engage in whatever silent battle we're in. Shigaraki fighting for dominance and me for acceptance.

All at once, Shigaraki leans back against the bar, hands hanging limply as he rests his elbows on the counter, "Tomura Shigaraki. Welcome to the League of Villains."

Chapter 5: Hawks

Notes:

I apologize in advance. :(

The sound of my ragged breath echoes off the walls as I stand in the living room of my apartment.

It's all gone.

Every bit of furniture, every piece of artwork, every bottle of alcohol is gone. They even replaced my red silk bedsheets with plain white cotton ones. Nearly every item I had is either gone or replaced with a white version of itself. The whole unit is maddeningly bright, and so white.

It's sending me into a spiral. The commission knows how much I hate the color, whether it be my natural instincts or the reminder of the horrible white training suits we'd been forced to wear, it's just never felt right. When there's too much of it, it's like I'm being swallowed. The nothingness of it all pressing into the panic centers of my brain until I can't breathe.

But I can't leave. The commission is watching everything I do and this was obviously intentional. This is their way of punishing me. If I leave, they'll just find another way, most likely something filled with pain and misery.

I run through the unit, turning off all the lights and closing all the blinds. And yet it's still so bright. The color seems to generate it's own light, reflecting off of everything to create some sort of horrific show.

The tears that I'd been holding back finally break free, falling rapidly down my cheeks as panicked sobs wrench their way out of my throat. My skin crawls with the wrongness of it all and I slide to the ground, curling my wings around my legs, trying to block out as much as I possibly can.

My hands shake violently as I scratch at the tender skin of my neck, most likely drawing blood from where the beauty team had just spent hours plucking feathers and treating the skin to keep them from growing back. It was a painful process that they seemed to draw out just for the fun of it all.

The logical part of my brain tells me that everything is fine and that I have nothing to be scared of but I can't bring myself to listen. The emptiness screams at me, digging into my skin like maggots on a corpse. I have to get it out of me. It's everywhere, it's in everything.

My breathing hitches dangerously as I cry out in pure terror, throwing dignity out the window. I rock back and forth, covering my ears and clenching my eyes closed as tightly as I can. I try to focus on my heaving breathing, trying to find a baseline in the gravelly, saliva-filled tones.

I squeeze my wings tighter, trying to find comfort in the only place I've ever been able to get it. My ears ring with the sound of nothingness, and I know that just beyond the safety of my wings lies the horrible emptiness that my apartment has become.

My chest aches and my labored breathing clouds my brain until eventually I've lulled myself into a fitful, uncomfortable sleep.

****************************************************************

Blue eyes.

White hair.

A crooked smile stretched over beautiful teeth.

"Where'd you go, Keigo?" an upbeat voice fills my ears, a giggle just on the edge of the words.

I smile widely back at him, rolling over onto my stomach and resting my chin on my arms. A content sigh slips past my lips as I stare at the bright green grass, "I'm right here, Touya."

A calm silence passes between us before I feel him lying back against me, his natural warmth spreading quickly through my thin t-shirt and coating my skin. It's pure bliss. No deadlines or controversy, nothing to worry about or care for beyond the feeling of my favorite person lying against my back.

"You remind me of the sun, Touya." I mumble out, smiling at nothing in particular.

He hums gently, sending vibrations through my back, "Because I'm warm?" He chuckles out.

I shake my head, rolling over and knocking himself off of me in the process. I sit upright, crossing my legs and staring happily at the white-haired boy across from me.

"Because nothing can grow without you." I state simply, my lip quirking up momentarily in a lazy smile.

His eyes widen slightly before he brushes off the comment with a giggle, "Sure they can. Look at you! You're so amazing even though I'm not always there."

I shake my head and roll my eyes, "I mean, yeah ... But I wish you were always there. Things are always so much better."

The emotion dips suddenly, unhappy silence hanging over the meadow. A bird calls as it flies above our heads, the wind rustling the leaves of a nearby tree as a squirrel picks at its fruit.

He sighs, "I know. But you're better there, trust me."

I'd told him some of what went on while being a ward of the commission. They were unkind and demanding, manipulative and demeaning, but they were yet to become violent. It was something Touya hadn't been lucky enough to experience. He had been enduring horrific violence practically since the day he was born.

It was a fact that was inherently unfair to my young mind.

"Maybe we could run away. We make a good team." I say, looking down and twisting my fingers together nervously.

Touya frowns gently, reaching out and wrapping his calloused hands around my own. "You know we can't do that, Keigo. I wish more than anything that we could, believe me."

I shake my head, squeezing his fingers a little tighter, "I just ... I'm scared."

My voice sounds so childish, higher in pitch with a slight whistle and click at the end of each pause. I've been to countless voice lessons to try and train the natural bird intonations out of me. I was trying my hardest but they still slipped through sometimes.

He shakes his head, ruffling a hand through my golden hair in the way that always sends waves of calm through my body, "What are you scared of?" he asks with furrowed brows.

Tears rush to my eyes instantly as I stare into his bright blue ones, "I don't want you to leave." I warble out, lip quivering pathetically.

Touya's face softens considerably as he instantly grabs my shoulders and pulls me in for a fierce hug. He is always so good at hugs, his natural warmth acting as a second layer of comfort atop his gentle care.

He makes me feel safe.

He makes me feel loved.

He is my home.

"I'm not going to leave, Keigo. I promise you. Nothing can keep me away. Nothing." His voice has such an intense conviction that I can't help but believe him.

Warmth that only he can bring spreads through my chest rapidly and a wide smile splits my face, an emotional chuckle rattling through me. Touya leans back from me, still holding onto my shoulders with a grip too gentle for a past as violent as his own.

He never ceases to amaze me at how kind and gentle he remains. Maybe it's something only I get to see, but it gives me hope nonetheless. That out of my own horrific experiences, I can emerge a better person.

"No matter how much you want to get rid of me," Touya starts, a coy smile twisting the corner of his lips.

I smile even more, giggling softly, repeating the sentiment, "No matter how much you want to get rid of me."

Touya grins, "We're going to be together forever."

Chapter 6: Dabi

Notes:

Bit of a longer, fluffier chapter here. Don't worry, scandalous Hawks will be back soon. Anywho, i hope you all are enjoying! I know it's a bit slow, but I wanted to try my hand at something a bit different.

"So your problem isn't with hero society as a whole?" I question, furrowing my brows and taking a swig of my cider.

It went against everything that I had heard about them. Though I admit that my sources weren't exactly the most trustworthy. Back-alley dealers whispering gossip as they slip me painkillers in tiny bags, drunkards making conversation before they attempt to lure me back to their place with half-assed complements about how 'your face isn't so bad as long as the lights are off.' But each and every one of them had painted the league as some evil group hell-bent on the destruction of society until villains reigned supreme.

Shigaraki offers a slight chuckle, shaking his head, "We all have our individual goals. They align in some aspects, but sometimes not at all."

Vague as ever, the sentiment didn't really provide much information at all. I just stare at him with wide, confused eyes. His words seem to have some warmth to them that I didn't expect.

"We're really just like a big happy family, aren't we Shiggy?" Toga coos, leaning towards him with a sickly sweet smile.

Spinner makes a noise of slight disgust, "I don't know about family. They're always disappointing."

"Friends. They usually don't suck too bad / Haha, suck these-" Twice clamps his hand over his own mouth with a sheepish look.

"I think friends has a nice ring to it." Shigaraki hums, taking a thoughtful sip of his drink.

I furrow my brows, looking down at my lap. A stab of hurt passes through me for some reason as I think of what that means. I haven't had a friend in so long. Buried memories push at my mind of a bright smile hidden among wildflowers, golden hair glowing in the midday sun.

"You alright there, Dabi?" Spinner asks, taking notice of my silence.

He was surprisingly empathetic. He had been the first to catch on to my discomfort when first entering the bar and now he knew I had been thrown off by the mention of friends.

They really aren't anything like the stories I'd heard.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I mutter, my voice sounding slightly choked.

The lizard hybrid nods, coming over to take a seat next to me. His brows are knitted together in something like concern. I don't know what to make of it.

"We've all got a past, Dabi. It's nothing to be ashamed of. You can tell us if you need, now or later, we'll always listen. You're one of us now." He says it with such conviction I know he means it.

But why?

"What if I'm a spy. Why do you trust me so much?" I ask, staring at each of them in turn.

Shigaraki stares at me from under his lashes, red eyes peeking through the pale hairs just barely enough to tell me he's paying attention.

"Well are you a spy?" Spinner asks in a deadpan tone.

Toga stares, smile nowhere in sight. It's odd to see her with such a lack of joy. It sends a tingle of unease down my spine.

"If you are, you can kindly leave now. Spies don't get the privilege of being killed by me." She says lowly, a venom present in her words that I've yet to hear.

Regret for my choice of words pools in my stomach as silence sits heavy over the group. All their eyes are trained on me as I squirm anxiously. I may need to prepare for a swift exit. Just as I was starting to warm up to all of them too.

Shigaraki stands swiftly, walking closer to me until he stands just in front of me. His red eyes bore into mine but there isn't any anger. Just a calm curiosity as he inspects me for any type of clues. It's like he's stripping down my walls until I stand like a bared soul for him to read. It's a feeling my father would often provide, but this is different. There's no fear here. Only curiosity and maybe even a bit of respect.

Shigaraki is proving to be the most difficult mystery of them all.

"Why are you here, Dabi? What's your goal?" He asks calmly, continuing to eye me.

I hum, looking down at my lap uncomfortably, trying to find a way to word things that won't completely expose me, "Retribution. A man who harmed me and my family. He can't be allowed to continue living peacefully."

Another stretch of silence sits heavily on the group. Part of me wonders whether I've already said too much. I used to bear a striking resemblance to the man I was forced to call 'father,' but after my accident, that wasn't much of an issue anymore. Scar tissue, purple and probably touched by necrosis, covering nearly all of my recognizable features. The things the fire didn't get rid of, I'd tried to change myself. Black hair dye to cover the striking white locks I'd inherited from my mother. Only my eyes remained, the sharp and angry blue that my father had given me.

Sometimes I hated them. Sometimes I wanted to tear them out of my skull, preferring blindness to becoming anything like him.

Shigaraki turns his back to me, taking a seat back in his original spot, "He's not a spy, you can all relax."

I stare at him in shock as Toga bounds over to me, plopping herself into my lap with ease. I startle a bit, rushing to support her so she doesn't fall.

"I knew we could trust you, pork rind." She giggles, leaning back and waving her limbs erratically.

I blanche at the nickname but can't find it in myself to be too upset. Spinner shakes his head with a small chuckle, watching the girl's behavior and my obvious discomfort.

He gestures in my direction with his beer, "We've all got goals like that, my friend. I've been through a lot of quirk-discrimination due to the way heroes have taken over society. I wanna get back at them for it, change things, y'know?"

I nod, furrowing my brows and adjusting my legs to support Toga's continued flailing, "So ... You do hate the heroes?"

Spinner shakes his head with a small sigh, turning in my direction, "Not really. Some of them are bad, for sure. But others have just been assigned a role like the rest of us, just living their lives. Not all of them deserve to suffer."

Shigaraki turns, once again fixing me with those red eyes, "The heroes themselves are not at fault. It's the organization that controls them. The one that lets horrible people get away with horrible things in order to protect their reputation. The one that turns innocent children into soldiers, televising the entire thing and writing it off as entertainment. That organization is the one that creates villains. And while they call us villains, they're the real monsters."

I breathe a shocked sigh at the conviction in his words, the words that hit far too close to home. How much does he know? He seems to be aware of all the things I'd experienced firsthand. He seems to share the same goals as I do. How does he know all of this?

"The Hero Public Safety Commission." I mumble.

At once, all eyes turn towards me as silence falls again. I look around at their slightly shocked expressions before finally settling on Shigaraki's mild intrigue.

"You sound like you're familiar." He states, a slight lilt in his tone pushing me to explain.

I grimace slightly, curling my lip in disgust to cover any sort of tells I may have. They can't know who I am. They can't have any idea.

"I've heard a bit about them. Rumor was they bought some kid off his drug addict mother near where I grew up."

A slight inhale of breath from Toga tells me that I've struck enough of a chord to keep suspicion away from my own involvement. She slips out of my lap, tugging her sweater sleeves down over her hands. The rest of the league look similarly affected, differing levels of disgust resting on their features.

"That's so sad," Toga says softly, still fiddling with her sweater sleeves, "Is he okay now?"

Twice sighs somewhat sadly, "I'm sure he's fine, right Dabi? / Nah, that kid's toast."

My brows draw together sadly as I contemplate what to say. Spinner nods at me, urging me to go on while Shigaraki just stares, expression open but still unreadable.

I open my mouth, hesitating momentarily, "I don't know." I finally manage to spit out.

At the heartbroken look in Toga's eyes, I continue, "We used to be really close. But then some shit happened and I never saw him again. But he would tell me about the training he went through. About the surgeries and treatments they performed so he looked just right."

The words spill out. I finally have an audience who might be able to sympathize, to do something about the injustice I've had to carry around my whole life. The one I wear on my skin. These people get it. These people care.

"He told me about how some of the older kids had died. Driven to suicide by the damn torture they were put through every day. It was fucking sickening."

I stop for a minute, thoughts that I'd tried so hard to keep at bay flooding into my brain, "He talked about escaping, I ... I hope he got out. I should've ..."

I let the thought trail off, not being able to stomach the rest.

He didn't deserve anything that happened to him, just the opposite in fact. He had such a brightness about him. I hope he hasn't lost it. I hope he's living a happy life somewhere - smiling that unforgettable smile with a family that actually loves him. That's what he deserves.

"You loved him." Toga's voice sounds breathy, drifting across the silence like a two ton feather.

My head shoots up, brows drawing together in confusion as a warm flush rises within me. The blush isn't visible through the scar tissue, but it's embarrassing nonetheless. Even more embarrassing, I can't muster up a response save for wide eyes and a slack jaw.

I'd never thought of things that way, even though it was blatantly obvious now. The way he sits in the back of my mind, waiting for a quiet moment to overtake my thoughts. The way I used to risk my father's curfew just to see him one more time. The way my heart sped up when those striking yellow eyes held me in their gaze.

Spinner grunts out a small chuckle and Twice mumbles more nonsense. A deep pink spreads across Toga's cheeks as a wide smile splits her face. She clasps her hands, pleased with the answer my stunned silence must have given.

Shigaraki stands, stalking over towards me, red eyes never leaving mine. He extends a pinky finger, resting his deadly hand on my shoulder.

It should feel like a threat. I'm just one small finger away from death, but it's nice. It's the most comfort I've had in a long time, from death's hands themselves.

"Well then we're going to find him." He says with calm determination.

Chapter 7: Hawks

Notes:

This chapter is mainly setup, so I hope it's not too boring! I was hoping to get a little further with this chapter, but the characters just wouldn't stop talking! Things will begin to heat up soon. I hope you're all enjoying!

The air smells like a mixture of hairspray, perfume, and faux fog. The air feels chalky with it, a few bubbles floating by as well. The place is full of color and flashing lights, people bustling by in various states of undress.

I turn towards the source of the bubbles, eyes widening at the sight. About a dozen people all unique in their own way lean against one another, silk lingerie covering just enough for decency.

I feel the heat rising in my cheeks, spreading through my body like wildfire as I take it all in. Nothing is left to the imagination, shapes of countless gorgeous people overtaking my mind..

The emptiness from the night before fills with lust for the vast expanse of skin before me. The need for comfort, for sticky heat and fast breaths, for closeness, for love in the only way I've gotten it clouds my mind.

"There you are, bird brain! I thought you'd never get here!" A sultry, feminine voice pulls my attention.

I turn and lock eyes with Miruko, dressed in a tight-fitting golden dress, sharp eyes accentuated with delicate golden lines. She scans my body quickly, light amusement turning to worry.

"Hey Hawks, are you okay? You look like shit, man." She reaches out, running a hand from my shoulder down to my arm, grasping onto my hand.

I focus in on her, trying to reel my distracted brain in from the scene I know is happening behind me. I smile nonchalantly, running a hand through my hair.

"I couldn't be better, Rumi. Just didn't get a lot of sleep last night if you know what I mean." I grin at the end of the lie, knowing she'll take the bait and change the conversation.

She releases my hand at once, slapping my shoulder with a playful smile, "Oh my god, just a bird during springtime, huh?"

I chuckle, bumping her and shaking my head, "Oh, I'm sure rabbits aren't much better."

A flush spreads across her cheeks quickly as she giggles. I laugh loudly as well, immediately picturing her horrible flirting skills at work.

"Hey, Rumi!" A chipper voice calls.

A woman with long blue hair flounces over in a matching golden suit. It hugs her curves beautifully with a plunging neckline and a lacy waistband. She flashes a smile at me, small fangs catching my eye before hanging a comfortable arm around Rumi.

Rumi's blush deepens as she looks over at the woman, eyes immediately flicking down to her full, pink lips.

That woman could not be more hopelessly obvious.

"Is this the new hire?" The woman asks, fingers reaching up to brush through the fur on Rumi's long ears, "Why don't you introduce me?"

Rumi flushes, hands flailing to gesture in my direction, "Uh, Hawks, this is Nanako, and Nanako, this is Hawks. We've been friends for like forever."

Nanako smiles, reaching out a delicate hand to shake. She really is beautiful, and the way her eyes twinkle tell me everything I need to know.

"Hello! I love meeting Rumi's friends! They always have the best gossip. You have to tell me everything. Did this rabbit always have such a cute little tail?" Nanako gushes, arms moving in a manner that I can only assume is to pinch Rumi.

The way Miruko's body jerks, poorly covered with stifled laughter, and the way Nanako grins sends a warm feeling through my chest. Rumi deserves to be happy, and it seems like Nanako is really getting through.

I'd comforted her after nearly a dozen breakups, each different women who could never make her smile like this. She was an awful flirt, with awkward pickup lines and a heavy hand, but with Nanako things seemed natural. They just fit.

It makes me think of my own relationships, all but non-existent. Sure, I'd been with dozens of people but none of them longer than a few nights. I never got to know them, never really remembered our time together either. It was sad, really.

"Oh absolutely, meet me after the shoot and I'll spill it all." I chuckle, glancing back at the bubble set to see all the models stretching and scattering to their respective dressing rooms.

One of them sidles up to us, a white corset resting just above his silk briefs. I try not to let my eyes wander, but the man has a gorgeous form. Long, slender legs and lightly toned arms. His black hair, damp and falling sensually across his soft features has my thoughts running wild.

He turns to me and I'm immediately consumed by his eyes. They're both completely black, just an endless void to his very soul, but they're not frightening. They're beautiful. It's like I'm being drawn into the night sky itself, if I look hard enough, I could see the stars.

"Hawks? Hey, I'm Tadashi. I was excited to hear that we'd be getting a new hybrid-type quirk around here." His voice sounds almost as soft as his skin looks.

I stare at him for a little too long, only shutting my mouth when Rumi lightly stomps my foot. I cough rather unceremoniously, grabbing his hand and shaking it in greeting.

"Yeah, hey! Uh, my handler said the wings would get me on the cover but I don't know ... I see some other people who could land it without them." I stammer, recovering quickly. I run a pointed glance down his torso and back to his eyes, holding his endless gaze.

He blinks at me, lips twisting upwards in a coy smile, "Maybe not the cover, but I think they'll get you somewhere."

He steps a bit closer and it feels like it's only the two of us in the entire room. Rumi and Nanako don't even exist anymore. Just me and this gorgeous man, with nothing but a corset and a layer of silk holding him hostage.

I can only imagine the way he'd look without them.

"Oh yeah? And where would that be?" I ask, swallowing thickly.

His grin just gets even wider. He takes another step until our bodies are mere inches apart, so close I can feel the warmth from his exposed skin. His gaze flickers across my face before he leans in, breath fanning over my ear as he whispers, "Come and find me after your shoot. You can see for yourself."

And just as fast as he appeared, he was gone, not even sparing a glance back at me. I can't help but stare after him, completely breathless.

"Damn, you snagged Tadashi and you haven't even done a shoot. You are something else, Hawks." Rumi hums, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Nanako chuckles alongside her before shaking her head, "Tadashi may be a hottie but he's a lot to handle. Be careful with him. I actually care about him a lot."

I nod, furrowing my brows in her direction, "You think I actually have a chance?" I breathe out incredulously.

Nanako huffs, sharing a look with Rumi, "Of course you do. That's the most interest he's shown towards anyone in months. He's kind of broody most of the time, never really interacts with the rest of us."

Rumi laughs, "He still won't talk to me."

My brows shoot up in surprise, immediately looking over the pair's shoulders to see Tadashi lacing up a pair of heels. The rest of the models, chatting amongst one another happily, leave him entirely alone.

"Anyways, enough about him. The producers want a special with you, so no other models or anything. I'll walk you to hair and makeup." Nanako says, offering an elbow to lead me through the ruckus.

I gratefully take it, not missing the slight snicker from Rumi, "Looks like those wings really did get you somewhere."

I roll my eyes, sticking my tongue out playfully as I allow Nanako to lead me away.

We pass through many different sets, models wearing costumes of all shapes and sizes and artists scrambling after them to finish their hair and makeup. I have to tuck my wings close just to keep from bumping them on anything.

I don't miss the many stares I gather as I'm practically paraded around the studio, most eyes focused on the giant red wings on my back. The wings that are both my greatest asset and biggest vulnerability. They've been the cause of both the best and worst things in my life.

I try not to let the eyes get to me too much, but I feel my skin crawl with the familiar attention. I get the feeling that Tadashi isn't the only one I'll be knowing a bit more intimately.

"Lose the top, baby, and we're gonna swap those pants out for this." An artist looks over me, a couple others standing behind them with various hair and makeup products. They hold a gorgeous metallic black skirt up to me with a small smile.

Nanako chuckles, pulling out a chair, "Things run a bit quickly around here, difficult to get used to at first. Here, try one of these."

She holds out a jar of purple tablets, gesturing for me to grab one. I slip my jacket off, sliding my wings out of the holes in the fabric. Brows furrowed, I reach out and pluck one of the tablets from the jar.

"What is it?" I ask as the costume designer takes my jacket, handing it to someone else who immediately disappears with my beloved garment.

Nanako just smiles, closing the jar and setting it back on the desk, "Something to help your nerves a bit. Also helps that it usually dilates the pupils. The director eats that up."

That only makes me more confused, though I can't deny the tiny thrill of excitement that runs up my spine at the possibility of what the tablet might be. I pop it in my mouth, allowing it to dissolve as I slide out of my shirt.

The bitter aftertaste only confirms my suspicions, "And the boss knows about this?" I question Nanako.

She hums, raising her brows, "He's willing to pay for anything that makes us happy, no matter how illicit. Just go a little easy on them, they're pretty strong."

I chuckle, smiling widely as I slip out of my pants and into the skirt. Free access to as much as I'd want. Seems like the commission made a poor decision sending me here.

This place is starting to look better and better.

The artist hums happily, stepping back to look at me with a pleased smile. The makeup and hair team immediately swoop in, brushing and spraying and lining until I'm just perfect. I try not to let it remind me of the Commission's beauty team too much.

The growing artificial calmness is helping immensely with that and I close my eyes until they step back, allowing me to look in the mirror. The person who stares back is beauty incarnate.

He has sharp, predatory eyes and full lips. His cheekbones sparkle, jawline bringing the whole picture together. He belongs in this world, on the cover of a magazine, posing in lingerie for the crowd.

But he is not me.

When I was younger I'd accidentally scratched myself with one of my talons. The wound had gushed blood, far deeper than I initially thought. The commission removed my talons the very same day after they realized the scratch would most likely scar. I can see it plain as day on my chin, though it's most likely too shallow to be noticeable to anyone else.

In the same way, I can't stand to stare into my eyes. They're all but devoid of life, disturbing to look at too long. Not even human. It makes my stomach churn with unease.

"Stretch your gorgeous wings out for me, baby. Let's make sure they're good and fluffed." The artist rushes, hands outstretched towards my feathers.

Time seems to stop for a moment, panic rising in my veins. I immediately and unconsciously jerk away from them, wings flaring in defense. A few product bottles clatter to the floor, my wings spanning nearly the entire room.

The artists stare at me with wide eyes, the one with their hands still frozen in the air. I wonder how menacing I must look in order to paint such frightened expressions on their faces.

It's an unfamiliar sight. One I've only seen from petty thieves caught during patrols. These people have no reason to wear such a face.

It's uncomfortable. Like looking into the eyes of kindness and seeing only fear.

I snap my wings closed, a small gust of air ruffling my skirt from the action. I can't keep acting so strange or they'll kick me out for sure. I don't know where I'd go afterwards, and I certainly don't want to know what the commission would have to say about it.

I smile, rubbing a hand over my neck to feign embarrassment, "Man, I'm so sorry. Reflexes." I chuckle, making sure my smile is loose enough to flash a few teeth.

The artists seem to find great amusement in my poorly constructed joke, laughing loudly and gesticulating in agreement.

I nod to them, "My wings are pretty sensitive so ... Just leave the preening to me, huh?"

I make sure to add the sensual lilt to my tone that people seem to love so much. It's the tone I'd usually use with someone I want to take home, but it works like a charm here too.

The artists nod emphatically, rushing to gather their things and move on to the next model. I don't know if I truly alleviated their fear, but as least they weren't looking at me like that anymore.

I sigh, stretching a wing over my shoulder and fluffing the smaller feathers before running my fingers through the longer flight feathers to ensure they lay correctly as well. It's a quick process seeing as I haven't lost any major feathers in a while and new growth has been mainly contained to the smaller, wispier feathers, that require less preening.

I catch Nanako staring at me with a strange expression as I switch to the other wing. When I finish, her blue eyes are still trained on me. I huff, feeling the roiling anxiety overtake the tablet's calmness with ease.

"What?" I ask, leveling a stare in her direction. I don't bother with a facade this time, she's seen enough to know something is a bit odd with me.

She stands, approaching me slowly with a sort of knowing look in her eyes. It only deepens the pit in my stomach. I've never handled pity well. It's often just a disguise, manipulation to cause more pain.

I can't be weak.

"Are you okay?" She murmurs, fingers twisting nervously.

I grimace, ruffling my wings and barely containing a glare, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just don't want people touching my feathers, is all."

She sighs, looking entirely unconvinced.

I grab the jar of tablets, popping another one in my mouth before trudging away to find my set.

Chapter 8: Dabi

Notes:

I was an idiot and didn't realize that Keigo was Hawks' given name instead of Takami. I've fixed that mistake now, :|
Anyways, very dialogue heavy chapter, but our favorite league is planning something big! Thanks so much for reading and I hope you're all enjoying!

The sheets feel nice against my skin, softness radiating through me. Even my scars feel at ease, the usual pulling and burning replaced with gentle warmth. I sigh, curling tighter against the cotton pillow and thin mattress. It's probably the nicest thing I've slept on in years.

Shigaraki asked me to stay in one of the rooms above the bar. Apparently they all stayed there. He said it was too much of a risk if we were apart. It would be easier to pick us off and use us for either leverage or information.

It sounded frighteningly close to a declaration of care for the other members of the league, though I'm sure he'd never admit that himself.

A light knock at the door brings me out of my thoughts. I was hoping I'd get to savor this feeling just a little bit longer. With a sigh, I sit up, calling for them to enter.

Shigaraki stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and a small smile on his lips. He looks so domestic like this. Nothing like the photographs that had been all over the news recently. He looked soft. He looked kind.

"What's up?" I ask groggily, my voice reflecting the fantastic sleep I'd gotten last night.

He chuckles, "Looks like someone got comfortable quickly."

A flush instantly rises in my cheeks. He's right. It really has only taken an invitation and I was all in. I'm supposed to be more careful than that. More independent.

I rub the back of my neck sheepishly, "Yeah well, sleeping arrangements haven't exactly been reliable lately. It's been ages since I've had a pillow."

Shigaraki's face falls slightly and he walks in, taking a seat on the edge of the bed and staring at me. It reminds me of the way Keigo used to carry himself. Childlike innocence weighed down by the world and yet still painfully vulnerable.

It was a look I never thought I'd see on the leader of the league of villains.

"You never have to live like that again. I promise." I mutters, still staring at me with those crimson eyes.

My eyes widen at the conviction in his tone, "Why? How? I mean, it doesn't seem like you all are making a lot of money."

Shigaraki just hums, looking down at his lap, "We have quite a bit stocked up. Our old leader was cruel. The money was his."

My heart skips a bit at his tone. It feels familiar. The shameful stare down, the halted words, the way his lip curves slightly in disgust. It reminds me of myself.

"What happened to him?" I find myself asking, just above a whisper.

Shigaraki turns to me, his eyes burning with such an intensity that I know the answer even before he says it.

"He got what he deserved." He practically growls.

I hum, nodding and turning away from his gaze. He was strong enough to deal with a horrible man. Maybe if I was more like him I wouldn't have to worry if my siblings were okay right now. Maybe I'd still be with them. Maybe the job would be done. Maybe Keigo would still be here.

"Bastards like him have to die. But unfortunately the corruption in the safety commission runs deep. They won't do a thing." He hisses.

I chuckle darkly, "Tell me about it."

His head whips in my direction, blue hair swaying with the fast motion. For the first time since I've met him, he looks surprised. My stomach drops almost instantly, realizing what I've just admitted to.

"You have experience?" He asks, incredulously.

I sigh, closing my eyes in defeat. I'm about to do something massively stupid.

"I've reported abuse to the commission several times. Nothing ever happens. Not even a wellness check. How can you do that? A fucking child, beaten down every single day and you ignore it because it might harm your reputation. It's sick." The words tumble out, heated with the anger roiling in my gut.

Shigaraki looks to me, head cocked slightly to the side. He examines my face for something, eyes widening slightly when he finds it.

Time seems to stop as we sit like that for a moment, wrapped in a blanket of silence. Turquoise eyes searching red for a hint of malice.

He is death. A touch from his hand could send even the most righteous to hell in less than a second. So why is he staring at me like he wants to heal?

Red eyes, red like blood, like anger, like death -

like roses,

like the sunrise,

like life...

The softest people always hide their swords, their gaze cuts you when you least expect it, wounding deeper than you could ever imagine. Shigaraki is not soft. He does not hide. Yet when he holds me in his gaze, it's as though he's reaching out a hand.

It's hard not to flinch away.

"I see it now." He mutters, standing from my bed with a small smile.

I stand too, still staring. It's been one surprise after the next, and I think I'm beginning to realize just how little I know about the way these people work. They're nothing like what I expected.

"Mr. Compress is back from his mission. He should have some intel for us. I think you'll like what we're planning." He mutters, turning to leave the room.

I breathe out shakily, overwhelmed. The accident left me standing still, unable to go forwards, stuck in the past forevermore. It seems like for the first time in years, my life is moving again.

***************************************************

"I managed to grab most of their current personnel files along with some other documents that looked important." A man in a mask is saying, waving his hands rather dramatically.

"How did I manage to cover this theft up, you ask? Why a simple misdirection, of course. Persuade a drunkard on the street to break in, replace the files with similar ones then set the fire alarm off as I make my grand escape. When they go to search the files, they'll be smudged beyond recognition, destroyed instead of stolen. A performance worthy of a standing ovation if I do say so myself." He finishes, taking a low, sweeping bow.

I gape at him. He is right, a feat like that is definitely impressive. From what I'd heard , they usually kept documents extremely secured. These must not be the complete versions then. A heist like that would take legitimate firepower to pull off.

"What about the backup files?" I ask, drawing the attention of the ragtag group.

Most of them look lost but Shigaraki smirks slightly. It's almost as though he's impressed.

The magician walks up to me, extending a hand in greeting, "I see we have a connoisseur amongst us. I'm Mr. Compress and you must be Dabi, correct?"

I nod, shaking his hand with furrowed brows. I'm not sure if I can trust him just yet.

He sighs, going back to his place at the table, files spread out in front of him, "Well, as I'm sure you're aware, these are the abridged versions. Kept for day to day notes. Their destruction will not warrant a large fuss inside the commission, but any small piece of information is beyond useful for us. That, my dear friend, is what we're searching for. Information."

I hum, eyes shooting to the pile of files. I wonder if his is in there. Keigo. I hope it's not. That way he may have escaped. But the smallest part of me yearns to read his name, to see his face. That way I know he's alive.

Spinner grunts, picking up a file and flipping through it, "So what are we looking for in these things, again?"

Toga nods in agreement, sifting through the pile until she finds one that interests her. She hands one to Twice as well, both flipping through with furrowed brows.

Shigaraki steps forward, grabbing a file as well, "We're looking for anything out of the ordinary. Anything strange."

I step forward tentatively, grabbing a file with a photo of a woman with a facemask on the front. Her hero name is scrawled underneath, but I don't bother to pay much attention, turning the pages to see endless information about her patrols. It seems like nothing too out of the ordinary, maybe a little invasive, but not appalling.

I flip the file closed, looking at Shigaraki, "Is there a file for every hero in Japan here?"

He shakes his head, closing his own file and setting it to the side, "No, only those who are employed by the commission. The rest of heroes may be under commission regulations, but these are the select few that they scouted themselves. Their paycheck comes specifically from the commission, not taxpayers."

I hum, picking up another file. I'd never realized that. It makes sense though, Keigo was kept so separate from everyone else. He didn't go to school like I did.

"Well how am I supposed to understand anything when someone colored over the whole thing?" Toga exclaims, tossing her file back onto the table.

Shigaraki drops his file and picks the new one up. Nearly the entire thing is redacted. There's no photo on the front either. Just a hero name written in delicate scrawl, 'Hawks.'

The name doesn't ring a bell and I scan whatever text I can as Shigaraki flips through. The sheer amount of things blacked out is staggering. There's obviously something the commission doesn't want anyone to know about this hero.

'Status - pending.'

'Station - Han modeling agency.'

Shigaraki looks up, red eyes lighting up and lips quirking in a smile. The words meant almost nothing to me. The modeling agency rang a distant bell, but they were just stuck up rich people who wanted to hear how beautiful they were 24/7. How could they be important?

"Ooh, you've got a plan don't you, Shiggy?!" Toga claps, jumping up and down.

Shigaraki nods curtly, "The Commission meeting we've been trying to find for months? I think we just found our way in."

Spinner scoffs, waving his arms in confusion, "How? They meet somewhere once a month, always different locations. How does this help you find it?"

"Service," Mr. Compress says, almost breathlessly, "they're always serviced by the same company. Do you think-"

Shigaraki nods, "We've never been able to connect a company to them because we were looking in the wrong place. This could be it."

I sigh, rubbing my temples exasperatedly. I'm beyond lost, "Mind to help the new guy out a bit?"

Mr. Compress clears his throat, explaining, "Most of the big shots at the Commission all get together for a monthly meeting somewhere in the city. There's no connection between locations except for the company that services them which, based on their payment records, is the same company each time."

"We'd been looking into local brothels, but it seems like the Commission is only worthy of the best, huh?" Spinner mutters.

My eyes widen as I realize what this all means.

"We've been looking to get a good hit in. Capture a source for information and use them to expose the Commission." Shigaraki murmurs, "This connection is no coincidence."

"Shiggy promised I'd get some delicious blood from whoever we take!" Toga says happily.

I grimace, turning to Shigaraki. This is a bad idea. It'll end up doing more harm than good in the long run.

"What if you didn't capture anyone at all? Just live streamed the raid. If I'm right, we'll find most of them in quite the compromising position, right?" I pause, looking at each of them, "We use the media against them without coming off as a dangerous entity ourselves. We'll gain support, a reputation that better reflects our actual goals."

Silence.

The league just stares at me, each face a different mixture of emotions. Confusion, bewilderment, disappointment, and Shigaraki's blatant approval.

"'We' huh? / Dammit, I wanted to punch some people!" Twice babbles.

A light flush rises in my cheeks. I hadn't even realized what I was saying. I've only been here for one night and yet I was more comfortable than I'd been in years. These people felt like home.

"Use their own weapon against them. I think that's a fantastic idea, Dabi." Shigaraki says, nodding in my direction.

"Toga and Mr. Compress, you'll go scout out the Han agency tomorrow. Find all the information you can." Shigaraki gestures to each of them before turning back to me, "We have 3 and a half weeks. We're going to expose their crimes for the world to judge."

Chapter 9: Hawks

Warmth surrounds every part of me, slender fingers exploring every inch of my skin.

He moves with a soft sort of hunger, getting exactly what he wants without having to raise his voice, without even having to ask. His light touches tell me everything I need to know. It's as though we're speaking in a language comprised of shivering breaths and pleasure.

His fingers trail down the side of my body, accentuating my hips as the other hand grabs onto my waist. He moves slow, kneading at the bone in my hip almost painfully as he catches my lips. I can't stop my small groan while I return his kiss, keeping the rhythm he'd set himself.

Everything seems hazy, his whispered words falling into a garbled mess of sounds and colors. But the fine lines of his slender body are as clear as day. I can't bring myself to be confused when the answers are all right in front of me.

Endless black eyes, soft curves covering clear bone structure. Skin, finally freed from it's prison, begging to fill the empty hole in my chest with something new.

Something better.

Anything would be better.

A noise slips through my lips as I reach up, resting my hands on his hips, resisting the urge to flip him. His fingernails scratched a gentle path down my chest, making me arch my back as the sensation passed my hips.

Tadashi grins before his face completely disappears from my line of sight, replaced with intoxicating heat between my legs. I jerk rather unceremoniously, head thrown back against the pillows as my wings twitch, knocking a number of things over.

He sets a pace, the friction quickly becoming unbearable, wet squelching barely reaching my ears over my own labored breathing. My hands spasm, reaching for anything I can grab onto, eventually settling on the bedsheets and a fistful of his black hair.

With each flick of his tongue, he pushes me closer to the edge, the growing pressure in my gut becoming more and more with each passing moment.

I release a noise that sounds embarrassingly close to a whine as I pull him up and back into my line of sight. His chest heaves as he stares at me through half-lidded eyes, wiping the sticky from his lips with the back of his hand.

My gut twinges in disagreement as even the air causes me to twitch in sensitivity. Tadashi and I stare at one another, both practically gasping in air.

I reach out, releasing the bedsheets but Tadashi shakes his head, climbing over me and angling himself just right. He places one hand on my chest while he wraps the other around himself before lowering slowly onto me.

I cry out as his warmth lights up every nerve ending, sending waves of electricity up my spine. He sighs softly, his hand moving steadily while the other holds me in place.

He starts to bounce slightly, moving up and down and causing my brain to white out for just a moment. I clutch the bedsheets desperately as my own pleasure echoes around the room.

He keeps going slow, wet sounds increasing in pace until I can't even see straight. He grunts, soft and breathy as he lowers himself one last time and I see stars.

I feel my back raise off the mattress as the waves rush through me, leaving me breathless and empty once again.

Tadashi does the same, huffing and rolling off of my lap into the mattress beside me, struggling to catch his breath.

I look over at him, lips twisted in a smile. That was probably the best sex I'd had in quite some time. Tadashi spares me nothing more than a glance before rolling over, leaving me to stare at the light definition of his back. My smile falls as I level my breathing, staring up at the ceiling.

I'm cold.

The roiling aftershocks that should be spreading warmth to the tips of my limbs seem to only spread icy emptiness. It seems to pool in my chest, making my stomach clench with unease and my breath to stutter with pain.

Why is this happening?

I'm usually so good about these things and yet here I am, tears pricking at my eyes because he didn't want to cuddle. It's pathetic. I'm not a child. I know how to handle rejection.

Only, it doesn't quite feel like rejection. Not exactly. More like there was never anything there to begin with. My brain filters through the events of the last few hours. The touches, the kisses, the empty eye contact, the rehearsed movements. It was more like we were performing a dance that we learned the steps to long ago. No passion, just leftover instructions and a desperate yearning just to feel.

I don't really care for Tadashi in any deep sense and he doesn't care for me. We were both simply a means to an end for the other. Nothing more than a tool to be used for the other's pleasure.

For the first time in my life, sex hasn't helped me feel better. The drugs in my system don't fill the void. The partner at my side is nothing more than a cold reminder of what I will always be.

An object.

Whether a weapon or a photograph or even a fucking sex doll, I've never been seen as a human being. Not since he died.

But Hawks is not human.

He never has been.

He's just a means to an end to achieve a dream I never wanted any part in.

He's all the parts of me I hate most rolled in an amalgamation with a pretty face and a flashy quirk.

He's a lie.

Made for nothing other than misery and manipulation.

And I am him.

Tadashi sits up, quietly gathering his things and disappearing from the room.

The door barely clicks closed before I break. I readjust my wings, lying on my side and curling into a ball, trying my best to warm the cold nothingness of my chest. Tears rush down my cheeks, ushering me into the dark comfort that only sleep can provide.

***************************************************

The days pass like time doesn't exist, moments melting together into a string of flashing lights and purple tablets.

The emptiness left from my night with Tadashi has held steadfast, undeterred by anything I throw at it. More tablets, more bodies, more photoshoots. It only seems to get worse, like I'm caught in quicksand, my flailing only causing me to sink faster.

"You're working the gig tomorrow, right?" Rumi's voice swims through the haze that seems to permanently cloud my mind these days.

I blink at her, slightly confused, "I didn't know we did 'gigs'?"

She huffs, "Tadashi recommended you. We don't usually take newbies to things like this. I thought he would've mentioned it."

Her eyes bore into mine, making me squirm, "Nah, haven't spoken to the guy since we fucked."

Rumi rolls her eyes, "Is that why you're so messed up? Since when have you gotten attached to people you sleep with?"

I glare at her before huffing and turning away, "I'm not attached. He's just some guy, I don't care about him at all. What's it to you anyways, Rumi?"

I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. I don't mean to be this way, but the jealousy writhing deep in my chest begs for attention. She has no right to tell me I'm living my life wrong. She grew up knowing she had a chance to live ... To be happy. She's always been more than just property.

"I'm just concerned about you, Hawks. Nanako told me she's seen you taking way too many of those pills, man. Don't get me wrong, I like to have fun but, I'm worried that's not what you're doing." Her brows furrow in concern as she tries to catch my eye.

"I'm fucking fine, Rumi. Tell your stalker girlfriend to lay off. I'm not a child, I can take care of myself." The words come out harsh and biting.

"Hawks..." She says gently, clearly not believing a word I've said.

I turn to face her, wings puffing in annoyance, "What the hell do you want me to say, Rumi?"

She frowns sadly, shaking her head, "The truth."

The simplicity of her answer throws me off guard. Her time isn't angry or pushy, just defeated. Like she's asking for something she knows I can't give her.

"The truth? You and I both know that's bullshit. There's no such thing. Not if someone powerful enough says there's not." I chuckle at the irony of it all.

Rumi's brows only furrow further, "Hawks, what are you talking about? Are you in some sort of trouble?"

I bark out a laugh at that. I've lived in 'some sort of trouble' my entire life. Since the moment I was born. You'd think I would've gotten used to it by now.

"Rumi, I think you're confused. I'm not sure what Nanako thinks she saw, but I promise I'm fine." The persona I'd built over the years slips back on, twisting my lips with a smirk and trying to mimic mischief in my eyes.

It was something I tried not to use around Rumi. I wanted her to be a true friend, one that was able to see the dark parts of me, but she was asking too many questions. She was getting too close.

She sighs, still looking unsure, but nods nonetheless, "Okay, I'll drop it for now. But promise me you'll talk to me before you do anything stupid, okay?"

I nod, bumping her shoulder playfully, "I think you might be getting into more than you've bargained for there. I'm often doing stupid things."

She laughs lightly, the lines between her brows finally easing back into their normal position, "You've got that right. Speaking of which, how'd you manage to fumble Tadashi?"

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck, "I don't know, man, guess I was just too good. Figured he'd be too exhausted to keep up with shoots if he were with me."

Rumi laughs, slapping me on the arm just as Nanako's blue hair wanders into sight. Her eyes lock onto mine and she heads straight for us.

"You two look like you're having fun," she coos, "Talking about tomorrow?"

I raise a brow at Rumi who's cheeks have flushed and ears have dropped at the mention of what she was most likely meant to be doing.

"Nah, we hadn't gotten to that yet," I supply, "Your girlfriend can't stay on one topic to save her life."

Nanako chuckles, smiling warmly at Rumi. It stirs the ashes of my heart in my chest, but ultimately only makes the emptiness ache more.

"And I couldn't love her more." Nanako hums, leaning forward to peck Rumi on the cheek.

Rumi blushes even harder, looking weak at the knees from just a kiss. I can't help but smile, that girl really is hopeless.

"So what is going on tomorrow, exactly? I have a meeting in the morning I can't miss. Will it interfere?" I question, trying to hide my disgust at the weekly meetings I have to go to in order to pacify my handler.

Nanako shakes her head, eyes lighting up even more, "No, no... The event is later on in the evening, so you'll have nothing to worry about!"

Rumi nods, intertwining her fingers with the other woman's, "It's something we're hired to do every so often. A bunch of rich dudes want to go to a strip club but think the workers are too dirty. We seem much cleaner."

I furrow my brows, stomach twisting slightly. This was just supposed to be a modeling job, now I'm supposed to dance for disgusting old men?

Nanako waves her hand dismissively, "It's not as bad as it sounds, I promise. We're basically paid just to sit around in our outfits and look pretty. You don't even have to talk to them if you don't want to."

Rumi chuckles, "Though some people like those extra tips and will actually sleep with some of them. Tadashi is pretty famous for that around here."

I find myself furrowing my brows even further, "Isn't that illegal? As far as I know, I never signed a prostitution license."

Rumi shrugs, "Mostly everything over here is at least a little illegal, but it's not hurting anyone. Plus, it's more fun to live life on the edge."

She flexes her biceps with a wide grin and Nanako can't seem to tear her eyes away. I chuckle, shoving down the unease I feel at the entire situation to be dealt with another time.

The conversation dies out naturally and I notice a couple makeup artists loitering behind us. I wave to Rumi and Nanako and follow them over to a mirror.

My feathers suddenly tingle, alerting me of a presence just before a slender hand wraps around my shoulder. I turn my head just enough to catch a glimpse of Tadashi's jet black hair hanging over his eyes.

He leans close to my ear, lips practically brushing against the flesh, "I know you're not here by choice."

My blood runs cold as I continue to stare at him from the corner of my eye. How could he possibly know that? I thought I was doing well. I was keeping my cover. This shouldn't be happening.

"There are more of us here than you think."

Notes:

Hawks is the most difficult character for me to write for some reason. I hope I'm portraying him well!
I'm also using this as an opportunity to work on pacing, and not hit all the exciting parts without building up relationships and personalities, so hopefully that's coming through as well! I'm trying not to make it too boring!
Thanks for reading!

Chapter 10: Dabi

"We fit right in, no one recognized us / Only because Toga's so cute she could be a model too!" Twice assures us as Toga twirls something around in her hand.

They had just gotten back from their scouting mission and we were all eager to hear what they had to say. Shigaraki and I had spent the three days they'd been gone working out more of the logistics of our plan.

We'd need to make sure whatever this company was doing was bad enough to change public opinion, and most importantly, we'd need a good way to film it.

Toga wasn't only meant to gather information on this trip. She needed to draw blood from someone. Then, when the day came, we'd have a seamless in to catch the footage.

It was a good plan.

I only hoped Toga had chosen the right model to impersonate.

"Did you see anything of interest?" Shigaraki mumbles, taking a seat next to me on the old leather couch.

"They were all so cute! I just bet they'd look even cuter all covered in blood!" Toga squeals, spinning around excitedly.

I don't know if I will ever get used to her antics. She is simultaneously the most disturbing and innocent person I've ever met. It's an off-putting combination to say the least.

"Who's blood did you snag?" I try to redirect her attention, try to get her to answer some useful questions.

Her eyes widen almost comically, face practically splitting into a smile, "There were almost too many to choose! I wanted to be this one girl with blue hair. She was so pretty."

Her stare turns wistful for a moment before she snaps back, "But she had a girlfriend, so I wouldn't be convincing enough. There was one other boy who I'd just love to be, but he seemed too popular. People were always watching him. So I went with the prettiest boy left. He didn't even feel it when I took his blood. I can't wait to have his eyes! All black and scary, could it be more perfect?!"

I stare at her, trying to decipher the words she's just said. Mr. Compress hums like he's intrigued and Shigaraki sits back like he's figured something out. I glance between the two of them, wondering how on earth they got something out of that.

"Tadashi Yatsudora, a fine selection, young lady." Mr. Compress exclaims, tipping his hat in Toga's direction.

Spinner grunts almost disbelievingly, "You know who she's talking about?"

Mr. Compress chuckles, "Well of course, dear friend, even the greatest magicians have their dream audience."

Shigaraki leans over in my direction, "That's his way of saying celebrity crush." He mutters it just loud enough for everyone to hear with a slight quirk of his lips.

They're all so kind to each other. Even when teasing. It's strange. I've never experienced anything like this before. My chest aches with the fullness of it all. Is this what family feels like?

"C'mon, we've all got one / You're the crazy one!" Twice shouts.

It seems lighthearted enough, but the room instantly falls still. Toga frowns at Twice who has his hands clamped over his mouth apologetically. Shigaraki leans away from me, brows furrowed. Tension seems to roll off of him. It's like when he spoke about their old boss a few days ago.

He clears his throat, shifting in discomfort, "I just don't find it necessary to stoop to the level of drooling like a dog over people of all things."

His eyes flick over to me so briefly I almost don't catch it. And that's when the realization washes over me like a tidal wave. He cares what I think. He's worried about what I think. About him. Over a celebrity crush.

What the fuck?

"Don't listen to him, Shiggy, he doesn't know what he's talking about." Toga coos before turning to twice, "I thought we talked about this, Jin, you can't use that word!"

I can't even find it in me to find amusement in their antics. I just stare at Shigaraki, amazed that someone like him would even bother to think about someone like me. He's leagues more powerful. He could lead an entire army. And yet he still cares about the opinion of a burned husk of a human being.

Why?

"I never really had time for celebrity crushes, they all seem stupid and arrogant anyways." I mutter, leaning back into the couch and crossing my legs, projecting nonchalance.

Mr. Compress sets off into some rant about how he first discovered this model, but I can't care to listen. I sense Shigaraki's eyes on me for a long while, calculating but not cold. The moment seems to last forever before he finally breathes out a chuckle and shifts in his seat. It may just be my imagination, but I could swear he gets just the slightest bit closer.

And for some reason that only makes the warmth in my chest spread.

"So you got this model's blood. Did you find any information on him that could help us find an in?" Shigaraki says, interrupting whatever story Compress had been blabbering on about.

Toga giggles and nods, a motion that seems to move her entire frame until it seems as though she'll fall over, "Of course I did! He's besties with the bird man. I saw them whispering together in the corner. And the bird man is besties with the rabbit lady, though it seems like they're a little mad at each other right now." She pouts.

Spinner chuckles quietly, taking another swig of his beer. Toga's rambling hadn't really answered any questions. I was beginning to think we chose the wrong people for this mission.

"The pretty boy and the bird man don't leave. They have their own rooms, though it seems like the bird man doesn't go back to his very often." Toga mutters, furrowing her brows with a small frown.

Spinner grunts, "Jesus, were you spying on them in the middle of the night too?"

Toga giggles, "Well of course! I had to sample something. They were all too cute to go to waste!"

Shigaraki sighs and shakes his head, but it doesn't seem like a disappointed movement, "Did they catch onto you?"

Toga laughs, "Nope!"

"They were all high as kites anyways," Twice chimes in, "Drugs left around everywhere like candy / Yummy!"

Shigaraki glances at me with the ghost of a smile, resting his fingertips on his lip as he leans forward. He's figured it out. The plan that seemed so unlikely earlier is falling perfectly into place. I can't help but stutter out a quiet laugh at it all. The stupidity to have illegal activity happening out in the open like this. The audacity to think they'd never get caught.

"So we've got enough to take down the agency for sure, but how do we connect the commission to all this?" Spinner questions, resting against the bar counter.

Shigaraki hums, "Toga will have to get up and personal with a few commission higher-ups. We need to see how they deal with resistance. They'll do something incriminating for certain."

"I think planting a camera on the other person who lives at the agency is a good idea. They aren't leaving for a reason. Maybe they're not able to. There might be much more going on here than we think." I mutter quietly, working through the process as I speak.

Mr. Compress stands behind the sofa with a sigh of his own, "It sounds like these models are being fed drugs to keep them complacent enough for the higher ups to use however they'd like. I'm afraid this is going to turn into nasty business."

I grimace slightly, processing his statement. He's right. These people are most likely going through horrible things. Can we really exploit their pain for a video to prove our own innocence? Wouldn't that make us the true villains?

Shigaraki stands, leveling Toga with a serious stare, "Himiko. We're asking you to do some very serious things. It won't be fun. It'll be incredibly dangerous. It's ... One of the worst things we could ask of you." He hesitates, looking down for a moment as Toga stares back at him with wide eyes.

He sounds so vulnerable. Like his words are physically painful. It's a strange sound but, one I've begun to expect from the leader of the league of villains. He's not the hardened, psychopathic leader I'd heard about at all.

He's the most human of us all.

"I won't make you do this. Screw the footage. We break them out and find another way to expose the commission. It's not worth it." Shigaraki finishes, looking back at Toga.

She cocks her head to the side, staring at him curiously. A moment passes between the two of them before Toga laughs softly, slinging a lazy arm across Shigaraki's shoulders.

"I'll be fine, Shiggy. A man won't ever make me do something I don't want to do. Plus, if we don't get the footage, they'll just find more people to hurt. I can save them. And I get some delicious blood in the process!" She exclaims with a smile.

Her words wash over me at the same time as Shigaraki's bewildered expression. It's the most sane thing I think I've ever heard her say. We aren't villains by preventing their rescue for one more day. We're insuring they'll never be hurt ever again. That no one else will ever suffer at the hands of those men ever again.

"Are y-" Shigaraki begins to say.

But the rest is drowned out by the sharp ringing in my ears. I finally got a clear look at what Toga had been fiddling with this entire time.

A feather.

Blood red and almost as long as her hand.

Cold washes over me as I stare at the thing I never thought I'd see again. It was a prop. She picked it up off the floor or from a display. It's not what I think it is.

It can't be.

She had been talking about a 'bird man,' though. Paired with the feather, it was almost too obvious. I feel tears prick at my eyes as I think of what it could mean.

It can't be him.

It can't.

Please don't let it be him.

"Where did-" I breathe out, not caring about the conversation I was interrupting or the concerned expression on Shigaraki's face, "where did you get that?"

Toga hops forward, somehow completely oblivious to my horror as she deposits the feather into my hand, "Oh this? It's so pretty, isn't it?! It was from bird man! He ripped it out left it on the ground. Don't really know why, but I couldn't just leave it there!"

I turn the feather over in my hand and sure enough, the base is covered in dark red blood stains, the inside still filled with tissue. It's not like the hollowed out, gently shed feathers he'd given me before. This one is violent ... Angry. Something meant to bring pain.

I stare at the feather, voice wobbling on the edge of emotion as I voice my deepest fears, "Blond hair. Two of the most beautiful red wings you've ever seen, so big they almost drag the ground. Yellow eyes, sharp like a predator ..." I trail off, hoping with my entire chest she doesn't know what I'm talking about. Hoping she thinks I'm nuts. Hoping to hear some insane comment that barely makes sense. Anything but what I already know deep down.

"Yeah! Do you know him?"

My stomach drops as my eyes burn, emotion gripping my throat with such a force it's hard to breathe.

"Fuck!" I shout, tossing the feather away and standing up.

My flames react, crawling up my veins and leaving an icy trail behind. My skin seethes while my muscles jitter, a painful combination that's become as common as breathing.

His smile, wide and innocent becomes corrupted in my mind. Cowering away from the evil that had always seemed to be at his heel. It finally caught up with him.

And I wasn't there.

"Hey, Dabi, talk to me. What's going on?" Shigaraki's gentle voice filters through the haze of my own thoughts.

"I thought ... I don't know why I thought he'd be ... Fuck. I thought he'd be okay." I force out, curling my hands into my hair in frustration.

Shigaraki hums gently, trying to remain in my line of sight, "Who, Dabi?"

"Keigo." I breathe out, the syllables slipping across my tongue, unfamiliar on my lips. I haven't spoken his name in so long. It puts the final nail in the coffin, tears spilling down my cheeks in a slow procession, mourning the boy I used to know.

I wipe my cheeks aggressively, hands coming back strained with red. I'd lost the ability to cry when I lost myself. Now my emotions ate at me until the boiling blood underneath forced it's way out. It was barbaric and painful and I hated when people saw it.

"Dabi, is Keigo the little boy you used to know? The one who was working for the commission?" Shigaraki asks gently, grabbing a towel off of the bar.

I nod, sinking to the floor of the bar, eyes burning as tears continue to make their way down my face, "I don't know why I thought he'd be okay. He'd tell me about the shit they did, of course he didn't escape. He was relying on me to help him and I fucking left. I left him there with those monsters."

Tomura kneels down in front of me, gently extending the towel to my face, wiping away my tears. He doesn't try to touch me at all, almost like he knows I'm too dangerous to comfort right now. But it's more comforting than he knows. The fact that I can receive care from him without having to worry about hurting him. It's calming.

"You were a child, Dabi. I may not know exactly what happened, but I know it wasn't your fault. You would've never left him if you'd had a choice. That much is obvious." Tomura says, crossing his legs as he settles down on the floor across from me.

I stare at him, not quite believing, but taking it to heart nonetheless. My chest feels somewhat lighter hearing it out loud. Like the guilt isn't squeezing on my esophagus quite as much. Like there's something else, some new emotion curling in my heart, something filling and strong.

"What was he like?" I mutter, eyes finding Toga's among the worried faces standing around.

Shigaraki prods at my hand with the towel and I open it, extending the extremity for him to wipe clean. Toga creeps around the edge of the sofa, crouching down on the floor as well. Her face looks surprisingly soft, like she's a well of empathy, reflecting my pain back at me. It's an uncomfortable look on her face.

"He was arrogant and sassy, but I could tell he was sad. Kept talking about how he was supposed to be doing hero work but was stuck there instead." She mutters, and even her voice sounds older. More gentle than it ever has.

I don't hate it as much as I should. It's not condescending, it's kind. An action from a place of worry and care, not hate. It feels nice. Warm.

I chuckle quietly, remembering the way Keigo used to talk about patrolling all the time. The way he'd act out saving people with such a big smile. He'd always wanted to be a hero, and it seems not even the commission could take that away from him.

"He didn't call himself Keigo either / I'm Hawks, what're you hiding under those sunglasses, handsome?" Twice imitated an unfamiliar voice but with a cadence that I knew like the back of my hand.

The way he paused after certain syllables and stressed certain letters. It was the method the commission had taught him to stop the whistling voice he got from his quirk. Keigo was Hawks. The blacked out file, redacted so much we weren't even privy to his patrol information. Keigo had fallen even deeper into their clutches.

"I should have the newest issue of the magazine. I'll be back in a flash," Mr. Compress says, rushing away and up the stairs.

"Hawks," I mutter, the name tasting wrong on my tongue. It sounds false ... Cheap. Not something the boy I knew would choose for a hero name.

But I don't know him anymore.

I haven't known him for quite some time.

"Here we are. The new cover model. Not my type, but a handsome young man nonetheless. Is this your Keigo?" Mr. Compress asks as he strides over, holding the magazine out for me to see.

My eyes widen as I take the image in. It's Keigo, no doubt, shirtless in a long golden skirt. He's grown so much since I last saw him, rounded features growing sharp and attractive. I grab the magazine, hands having cooled enough by now, and flip to the page listed on the front.

It's Keigo again, lying in a suggestive pose, eyes trained on the camera in a seductive manner. His pupils are blown wide, much wider than I've ever seen them. In lighting such as this, they're usually abnormally small, he was always sensitive to light. But this is something I've never seen, along with the expression on his face. It's so obviously forced, marketing the dazed look as seduction.

I snap the book closed, staring up at Shigaraki while anger brews in my gut, "We need to get him out of there."

Shigaraki nods, "We will."

Notes:

Would you all prefer chapter summaries? I'm beginning to see the appeal.
Also, do let me know if you guys think things are progressing too slow. I'm trying to fit in some character development and exploration amongst all the exciting plotlines I want to explore, so I hope that's working out.

Chapter 11: Hawks

Notes:

I know I just posted a chapter, but I couldn't keep this one for too long!
Hawks is a very unreliable narrator and we see that clearest in this chapter for sure.

"You seem to be doing well. Everyone is buzzing about the up and coming wing hero, Hawks. They all want you. You'll probably top the charts at your debut at this rate." Hana babbles, flipping through a clipboard full of whatever bureaucratic nonsense she stares at all day.

I scratch at the back of my neck, red and irritated from my appointment with the beauty team earlier. Even though the results are good, my heart sinks. She'll want me to stay there. Keep me out of trouble but in the public eye enough to gather support. I can't stay at that agency much longer. I've never felt so cold in my life hell, I'm starting to dread sex. And the pills are barely working enough to keep me from being lucid during it all.

This can't be all that my life has to offer.

"When do you think I'll be ready to go back on patrol?" I question gently, maintaining a timid eye contact.

She grimaces, raising a brow and snapping the file closed, "Hawks, do you not appreciate the second chance I've given you here?"

Icy fear creeps up my throat almost instantaneously, suffocating any snarky quip I could think to throw back. I look down at my lap, avoiding the bite in her eyes.

God, I'm being pathetic. I can't even stand up for myself anymore. She's going to think she's finally trained me. Kick a dog enough times and he'll learn not to bark.

"Of course not. I'm grateful for every opportunity you've given me, " I say, making sure to make eye contact once again, "I just think I could help more people in the field."

She sits straighter, intertwining her fingers on the desk as she continues to stare at me, "By help more people in the field, you mean find hookups and get high, right?"

"No, I-"

"Hawks, I thought I found a placement that fulfilled your needs. You're getting high and having sex every day, are you telling me that's not enough?"

My breath catches in my throat, "No it's more than en-"

She sighs, "Hawks, I just don't know how to make you happy. We've done everything to help you succeed in your goals. We're even funding your bad habits and you're still complaining. It's ungrateful and frankly disrespectful."

My heart drops to my feet. Shit. I should've kept my stupid mouth shut. The deal I've got isn't even that bad, I can deal with it. At least they haven't actually hurt me yet. That has to be an improvement, right?

"I'm sorry, Hana, I didn't mean to-"

"Hawks. You're not ready to go back onto the field until you prove to me that you can care about something other than yourself for once." Her eyes are darker than I've ever seen them before.

I clamp my mouth shut, staring at her with wide eyes as my wings unconsciously pull close together. Nothing I could say would make this any better. Opening my mouth always makes things worse here. God, you'd think I'd have learned by now. I don't have any power here.

I've never had any power anywhere.

"Now I hope you're aware that questioning my authority can't go without consequences, yes?" She says, lips still quirked in that infuriating smile.

The chill deep inside my bones filters through my skin until every inch itches like I've fallen into a pit of a thousand needles. I resist the urge to scratch as I look down, mouth running dry. Fear pricks at the back of my throat, making my eyes grow watery as much as I hate it.

Why am I like this? Why can't anything ever be easy? Every good thing I've ever had has been stolen from me, the commission filling every hole in my life until they're the only thing I could possibly rely on.

And I can't even keep them happy.

Maybe I deserve it. Maybe all of the horrible things they've put me through were meant to teach me and I just wasn't getting the memo. Maybe this is the best I am ever going to get and I'm wasting it on something as stupid as pride.

The way he treated me, with kindness, like I was the most precious thing in the world, it's something I've been searching for ever since. But maybe I never deserved it in the first place. After all, he left. Everyone who was ever supposed to care for me is gone.

And it's my fault.

Maybe if I hadn't nagged him so much about escaping. Maybe if I'd listened to him more instead of constantly complaining about myself. That would be difficult for anyone to listen to. Maybe if I'd been better, if I'd been who the commission wants me to be ... Maybe he'd still be here.

I nod, not even bothering to wipe the tears from my cheeks as I look back up at Hana.

She smiles and nods, "Good. Head down to corrections then and they'll get you sorted. You're off photography for the next week, but you must still complete your off camera duties. Do you have any complaints?"

I shake my head, "No." I mumble, failing to keep the wobble from my voice.

"Wonderful! I'll see you next week, Hawks. You have a very important assignment coming up soon. Don't disappoint me." She finishes, picking up her stack of papers, signaling the end of our conversation.

I sigh, turning and heading from her office like a condemned man. The elevator ride down to the basement is excruciatingly slow, my skin crawling with each floor that passes and each step closer to the room I've seen far too often in my life.

"Hawks. My favorite kiddo. Here for an adjustment?" A gruff voice asks, standing in the doorway of the dark room.

I nod, avoiding eye contact. He was a sadistic old man who enjoyed seeing people in pain, me most of all. He made sure that I never left from an adjustment until I was begging for death.

And he had the audacity to call it fun.

"Well get in here then, you've got a date with a power socket tonight."

I swallow thickly, clawing at the back of my mind, trying to slip into that place that lets me forget. Trying to find the spot where I can wake up sore tomorrow without really remembering what happened. The spot that keeps me alive.

I step into the room like walking into hell itself and take a deep breath, trying to prepare myself as the door slides closed.

***************************************************

'Clients' is what Tadashi called them. The people who would come in to the studio overnight for a quick fuck.

They weren't all bad at first, a relaxing hookup after a long day of photoshoots wasn't the worst thing in the world.

But then I had to take a break from photography. The sides of my torso and even up my neck were mottled with the bruised burns from some sick version of a cattle prod. It was unsavory to look at. Ugly. Not a look that would sell on the cover of a magazine.

In response to the lack of money I was making on the cover, I'd been tasked with the longer shifts of overnight clients. They were far worse than the others, playing out their fucked up fantasies while I begged for mercy.

More pills should do the trick. I earned this life, I should get to enjoy it. Once the bruises fade, I'll be back on the cover and they'll assign me the good clients and it'll all be fine. Everything will be perfect. Who wouldn't want this life?

Rumi hasn't spoken to me in forever and Nanako just stares at me every time I leave my room. Though it's not really my room, is it? Not when I can't tell someone to leave it. Not when I'm trapped inside it. I wonder if I've ever had a real room? Like the ones on TV. A space of my own?

I don't think I'd like it very much.

Rumi is probably pissy about something like she always is. She can't handle the way I live my life. She thinks I'm fucking everything up. That I'm throwing my shot away just for some momentary pleasure. But I never had a shot to begin with, and the only thing I'm fucking is every greasy, bureaucratic asshole that walks through my door.

What am I supposed to do?

If I tell them no, I'll end up back at corrections and the whole cycle will start again. I have to get in their good graces and I can't do that if I'm constantly doubting every decision I make, if Rumi's nagging voice keeps splitting my head.

I'm supposed to be grateful for this opportunity, and it doesn't seem like I'm acting the part. Why can't I get my shit together? They've given me everything, the least I can do is show some gratitude.

If only I could get the fear to go away. If I could find a way to stay in that little haven in my head for longer. Maybe then I could do well.

Maybe then I could be Hawks.

Keigo has been holding on too long, but I can't be him anymore. He wouldn't survive. I have to put him away. I have to kill Keigo to let Hawks thrive.

A dump a handful of tablets into my palm, swallowing them all in one.

This is what Hawks wants.

Hawks wants this life.

Hawks is happy here.

I am happy here.

***************************************************

One feather is all it takes.

"Look at me, Hawks, your eyes are so pretty when you're crying."

One flight feather would do it.

"Come on baby, don't look at me like that. This is your job."

The pain of pulling it is worth it.

"Oh god, it's almost like you were made for this."

It will be sharp enough.

"Who cares about being a hero if you're this good of a fuck."

Sharp enough to stop the spinning.

"Hawks, are you okay?"

Sharp enough to stop the voices.

"What are those bruises?"

Sharp enough to stop it all.

"Did you burn yourself?"

Sharp enough to ...

"Fine you fucking prick, seems like the drugs are a better friend than me, huh?"

Sharp enough ...

"Find me when you care about more than getting high all the time."

Sharp pain down my arm, from the crook of the elbow to the base of the wrist. Red bubbling up to stain the porcelain skin and tile underneath.

I don't know what day it is.

Does it really matter at this point?

It hadn't been long enough for the burn marks to fade, but it had to have been multiple days.

What was a few days ago?

There are people here. More people than usual. They look expensive. And that only means one thing.

What does it mean again?

My feather clatters to the ground as I face myself in the mirror. A face stares back at me, but it's not my own. It can't be. I don't remember having a face like this.

I don't really remember having a face at all.

What do I look like?

"Fucking Christ, Hawks, what have you done?"

Hands grab onto my arm, rinsing and wrapping the wound with efficiency, but it barely registers. I wait for them to touch me somewhere else, muscles strangely tense. It's what I'm good at. Out of everything, it's the only thing I'd ever been praised for. I should be excited. I should jump at the opportunity to prove what I'm worth. Instead, all I feel is a bone-deep, exhausting fear.

What is it I'm good at?

The person pushes a few purple tablets into my hand, shouting for me to get back to work.

I don't remember having a job.

What do I do for work again?

I shove the tablets in my mouth, stumbling as I follow him back to a private room. He smiles at me, breathing heavily as he pushes a few more of the tablets into my palm. I chew on them, glad to have a different flavor than the stale saltiness that coated my tongue. I turn to leave, falling to my knees as they grab my wings. They push more tablets into my mouth, beads of sweat lining their brow. I stagger down the hallway as she pulls my head back, fingers twisted in my hair. She plops tablets into my hand, sprawled out on the bed as I wonder-

Why do I keep finding these pills?

I thought I took them already, why are there more? Where are they coming from?

Who do people keep smiling at me? I haven't done anything for them, why are they praising me?

Why is the room spinning?

Why are people shouting?

Why can't I feel my body anymore?

Have I ever really had one to begin with? I've been this way as long as I can remember. Surely this is how I was born.

I don't remember being born. Had I ever been born? Did I have parents? I don't remember having parents.

What is my name again?

"Come back to me, Keigo."

Hands on my back, avoiding the base of my wings.

Keigo sounds familiar. I wonder who he is.

Heaving over the toilet bowl, listening to soothing words.

I wonder who he's talking to. They're lucky, whoever it is, to have such a kind tone speak their name.

Muttering nonsense while turquoise eyes study every move.

If this is what Keigo gets to experience, maybe I wouldn't hate being him for a while.

Eyes fluttering closed as the world spins red and blue.

Chapter 12: Dabi

I run my hand through my hair nervously, checking the screen connected to the camera one last time. It was all working. Toga's fingers making obscene gestures in front of the lens in an attempt to make me laugh. I think the tension in my skin won't be leaving anytime soon.

At least not until he's safe.

We'd barricaded off a supply closet, using it as a type of command center for everything. Toga hops up and down, shaking out her limbs to get ready. She already had plenty of blood to last throughout the entire show, but we couldn't have two of the same model walking around. Twice had gone out disguised as a beautician to lure him back here.

Tomura sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder, "It'll be alright." He mutters reassuringly.

I nod, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I let myself relax into his hand, taking the comfort, as small as it is.

"I'm scared." I whisper, surprising myself at the sincerity of it.

Tomura turns towards me, kneading his fingers into my shoulder with a small nod, "Of course you are. This is a big moment. But we're going to help him, okay? I promise."

I sigh, trying to force a smile, "You're right. It's just ... What if he doesn't remember me? I mean ... What if he does? I don't know which would be worse."

Tomura smiles, carding his fingers through my hair gently, "That's perfectly natural, Dabi. You were close, but it's been years. You're both different people now."

I nod, chuckling slightly, trying to hide how much I enjoy his fingers on my scalp, "I hope he's not that different. He was pretty great."

He sighs, sliding his hand down from my shoulder to wrap around my middle, pulling me into a hug. It almost knocks the breath out of my lungs, his thin arms feeling infinitely strong when they're linked around me.

It's a feeling I haven't experienced in a while. Unconditional kindness. A warmth that seems to fill my bones without the oppressive heat in my throat. My heart clenches as a watery smile paints my face and my arms inch their way around him as well.

It's something I'd be happy to do forever.

Muffled voices sound from the other side of the door and we all perk up slightly, getting ready to jump into action if needed. The door rattles, swinging open to reveal Twice and a barely dressed model.

A long black skirt with a split leading all the way up to his hip connects to a type of mesh bodice that conveniently leaves his entire chest exposed. He smiles gently at Twice before turning in our direction. A beat seems to pass before his eyes, black as coal, widen as they take everything in. His body immediately goes rigid, hands clamping over his mouth as he backs away.

I feel my heart leap into my throat at the display. If he screams this will all be over before. Tomura's hand clenches on my shoulder, mirroring my own tension.

The heels of his bare feet knock against the door Twice had closed behind them and it almost acts like a switch. His face changes, horror morphing into something more complex as he drops to his knees, split skirt billowing out around him, leaving almost nothing to the imagination.

He reaches out, grabbing onto Twice's leg with a sort of desperation I've never seen. He stares up at Jin, eyes half-lidded and lips quirked in a sensual smile. His hands creep further up his leg in some sick attempt to elicit pleasure. But the desperate rigidity in his posture paints an entirely different picture. It was like he was doing this because he thought he had to. Like he thought this is what we expected.

It's disgusting.

"I'm sorry," he breathes out, voice quaking with fear, yet still managing to keep a light and sexy tone, "I was surprised is all. I'm not refusing, I promise. I can make you feel good. I'll do it. Please. I will."

Twice shoots a look to Tomura, begging for help as the model's hands inch closer to the zipper of his pants. Jin's hands hung helplessly in midair. He was obviously afraid to touch the model and knowing him, it was most likely because he didn't want to hurt him. Even Toga wore a concerned expression at the model's actions.

Tomura clears his throat and the model freezes, releasing Twice as he whips his head back in our direction.

The look on his face, his behavior, his outfit, all of it makes me sick. The fact that he assumed we were going to hurt him, not because we're villains, but because he refused to 'service' us. I feel my fire licking at my bones, begging to make whoever was responsible nothing more than a steaming pile of ash.

"What's your name?" Tomura asks gently.

The model continues to stare at him, most likely trying to figure out his angle. "T-Tadashi," he stutters out, eyes wide before his face drops back into that sensual expression from moments ago, "but you can call me whatever you want." He purrs, crawling over towards Tomura.

Tomura moves his knee just out of reach, staring down at the model with some unreadable emotion, "That won't be necessary." He murmurs.

The model instantly panics, eyes blowing wide and breathing speeding up as he frantically shakes his head, "No ... No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He pleads with us.

I swallow the lump in my throat, barely able to watch as his eyes water, fear blatantly visible in his every breath. For a minute, his black hair looks golden, his skirt turns to wings. For a moment, I imagine Keigo sitting in front of us, so used to pain that he'd beg to be spared by someone he hadn't even met.

I don't think I'd be able to survive if his yellow eyes looked at me that way. To know fully and completely that the Keigo I knew was gone, replaced by this terrified husk of broken promises and cruel realities.

He has to be okay.

Tomura kneels down next to the model, "We're not here as ... clients. We're here to take down those sick freaks who are keeping you here. We're going to give them what they deserve ... And we won't stop until they're begging for forgiveness."

His words are chilling and bordering on psychotic, but they seem to cut through the haze in the model's mind. He sits back, pulling his bruised knees to his chest as he continues to stare.

"What?" He whispers.

It sounds so small, so lost that it's almost like talking to a child. It suddenly strikes me that I have no idea how old he is. He can't be much younger than me, but how long has he been working here? How long has he been trapped?

Tomura offers a strained smile, sitting cross-legged on the floor across from him, "We'd like to expose the crimes that are going on here, but we can't do it without your help. You don't have to do much, just stay with us until the police show up. We'll make sure you get to them safely."

Tadashi seems almost breathless, "Police?"

Blue hair bobs with a gentle nod as Tomura fixes the model with one of the most determined stares I've seen yet, "Those men will never touch you again."

He spits each syllable like he knows the pain Tadashi is in. Like he has intimate knowledge of the doubt swimming in his mind. He knows exactly what to say and how to say it. It's painfully brilliant to watch as the tension coiled inside his limbs fades with each word.

Tadashi's face crumples almost instantaneously, tears rolling down his cheeks, "Why? Why do you want to help? I thought you were villains." He babbles almost incoherently, conflicted emotions playing over his face.

Tomura just continues to stare at him, eyes surprisingly soft as he sighs, "Villains. What is it they do?"

His voice is kind and patient and even though the question seems insensitive, I know he has a reasoning behind asking it. He's trying to get the model to talk, to think through his emotions and bring himself back to reality.

"They hurt people! Innocent people who didn't ask to be involved, they hurt them!" He cries, brows furrowed slightly at the nature of the question.

Tomura hums gently and nods, "Okay. And why are you working here? Is that something you wanted to do?"

Tadashi jolts in surprise, shaking his head in a tiny movement as he seems to curl further into himself, "No. They won't let me leave." He murmurs.

"Who? Who are they?" Tomura nudges him towards a conclusion.

The model seems to become more upset as he realizes the answer, but somehow consoled at the same time. His tears seem more like those of a child just coming to terms with reality than the disheveled, terrified ones from before.

"Heroes." He whispers, voice breaking.

Tomura lets the silence hang over the room as the word settles in, "If this is what heroes do, then I don't want anything to do with them. If that makes me a villain, then so be it, but last time I checked, I haven't hurt anyone who could be considered innocent."

Tadashi stares at him with wide eyes. The black seems to shimmer as his tears reflect the harsh fluorescent light, turning something dingy and dirty into something beautiful.

"The security detail stay by the doors." He murmurs, looking back down to his knees, "A few stay with the staff on stage. They don't really pay attention to those of us who work the floor. And rooms are off limits."

Toga smiles, uncorking her bottle of blood excitedly, "Easy peasy. Lure a creep back to the room, get him on camera, then I get to gut him! Right Shiggy?"

Tomura sighs and shakes his head, drawing my attention back to the terrified look on Tadashi's face, "We're not killing anyone, Toga ... As much as they deserve it."

Spinner speaks up, surprisingly gentle compared to his usual gruff manner, "Just get the illegal stuff on video and then kick him in the balls or something."

The model's face eases, a small smile pulling at his lips as he nods. If I were him, I'd want to be a part of this as well. Show them just how much I hated them all. But Tadashi seems content to stay here and watch.

Maybe that's what makes him good.

Maybe when the inferno of rage and retribution consumed me from the inside out, I lost that innocence shining in his eyes.

Maybe I'll never get it back.

Maybe I'll never be good again.

"Keigo- er, Hawks. Do you know where he'd be?" I question, voice bordering on desperation.

He turns to me with a dark expression, "Why? What do you want with him?"

Even though his eyes are completely black, I can see it there as plain as day, the fierce protectiveness I feel in my own heart. Keigo seems to have that effect on people. He's so pure, so good. When people like us meet him, those with darkened hearts and broken souls, we can't help but cherish him. More than anything, we live for his smile. We live to see him succeed, because he has a chance. More than any of us, he has a chance to be happy.

To move on.

To live.

I hesitate at his question. What do I want with him? It's not like I can reconnect. This isn't some story with a happy ending. He'll never want me now that I'm so ruined. Things would never be the same.

But I have to make sure he's okay.

"I'm a ... I used to be a friend. I made a mistake a long time ago. I'm hoping I can maybe make up for it a little bit now."

Tadashi eyes me suspiciously before nodding and burying his head back between his knees, "He should be working the floor, I think. He's been really fucked up recently."

"Fucked up?" I repeat.

He nods, furrowing his brows again, "The drugs. Practically feed them to us. I don't want to. I don't know what's in them. But I don't want to remember either." His words are barely loud enough to discern and they twist my stomach with sincerity.

Tomura clears his throat, placing a hand on my shoulder to gently direct me back to my place next to him. He gestures to Toga, who chugs the blood and skips out the door before her transformation is even complete. Tadashi buries his head in his arms, small breaths shaking his form with the depth of his pain.

I grimace turning back to Tomura, who stares at the camera feed, red light flashing in the corner indicating the livestream.

He takes a deep breath, turning towards his own camera setup nearby. Being the head of the league, he'd have to give a speech. It would be his face that gave us the clicks we needed to expose this.

"Are you ready?" I mutter, brushing some hair out of his eyes.

He nods, turning to me with fierce determination, "Let's destroy them."

Chapter 13: Keigo

Notes:

I think this might be my favorite chapter so far. I know we haven't had any yummy character interactions in a bit, but we're at a very plot heavy point in the story. I promise we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

"Do you think All Might could touch the moon if he wanted to?" I ask, pointing up at the sky.

"I don't know ... I don't think he'd want to." He replies nonchalantly, not even bothering to look over at me.

I frown, dropping my hand to my side but continuing to stare up at the sky, "Why not?"

An amused chuckle breaks the silence beside me, "Because everything he could ever want is down here."

I finally look over, his blue eyes piercing into my own. They seem infinite, pulling me in deeper than I've ever been before. His white hair seems to glow in the gentle moonlight, like some sort of halo. He smiles and it only completes the picture. He's angelic in every sense of the word.

"Whatcha looking at, birdie?" He asks, nudging my shoulder.

I shake my head, turning my eyes back to the stars, "Just you."

The breeze filters through the open night and my hair tickles the side of my head. The flowers in the meadow have long since given way to green growth and the leaves on the trees were starting to change colors along with the dropping temperatures. But it was nice. I would stay out here as long as possible. Even when the cold began to nip at my fingertips. Even when my skin lost feeling.

Anything is worth it to stay right here.

"You know you have to go back, right?" He asks, rolling onto his side to peer at me questioningly.

I huff and shake my head, "No. I don't have to do anything."

It's childish and stupid, but I don't want to think about that place when he's around. He is my escape. He makes everything okay.

"They won't be happy if you're out here all night. You know that." He reminds, voice still lilting with his gentle smile.

"Yeah but what if we just left? We've been talking about it forever. Why don't we do it?" I sit up, watching as he slowly does the same.

He sighs and shakes his head, "You know we can't do that."

The anger shoots through my veins, white hot and immediate. He knows better than anyone what it's like to be trapped in a place like this and yet he forces me to stay there? He promises to get me out but never actually does?

"Why not, Touya? Why not?! You promised!" I shout, struggling to hold back angry tears.

He sighs, calm expression never leaving his face, "I know. I thought I'd be able to protect you, but I don't think I can."

"Who asked you to protect me?!" I shout, wings flaring, "You're not the only one with a powerful quirk, Touya! Who says I can't be the one to protect us both?!"

He frowns, eyes casting downwards in a way that twists my stomach with grief. His shoulders slump and his chest that once seemed so full of determination now looks empty. It's hopelessness, an emotion I never thought I'd see weighing on him.

It's wrong. I've never seen anything more wrong in my life.

"You're right, Keigo. You have a powerful, wonderful quirk, but ... Not for that. You can't use it for that. Mine was ruined from the start, so it didn't matter how many people I hurt with it. But not you. Not yours" he mutters, eyes pleading.

A moment of silence passes between us, the sound of my heartbeat ringing in my ears. He couldn't be more wrong. His quirk is beautiful. Gorgeous blue flames that warm his skin from the inside out. Despite everything that's happened to him, those flames haven't abandoned him. In fact, they've released him from all the pain his life brought. Too powerful for his own body, his quirk got him out of training, out from under his father's thumb, away from the commission.

His quirk saved him.

Mine is my own damnation.

Clipped and pruned to suit the tastes of the commission, my wings aren't my own anymore. My quirk has never done anything but harm. It's the reason my father died. It's the reason my mother sold me. It's the reason the commission wanted me in the first place.

What can't he see that? Why doesn't he understand?

"Touya. You don't have to be strong. You know that, right? Let me protect you for once. Please." I mumble, snaking a cautious hand around his own.

He squeezes back, turning his teary eyes back to mine. After a long moment he nods, glancing away and muttering a quiet, "Okay."

My heart leaps, hope rushing through my veins making me almost lightheaded. An acrid scent fills my nose and I almost choke on the heaviness of it in the back of my throat. It hits me all at once and I drop his hand in surprise.

He doesn't move, small smile and serene eyes still trained on me with a calm, almost invisible apology.

He's lying to me.

'I'm not weak, Keigo! I'm not going to just run away!'

The voice is strained and ugly, tearing from his throat with too much emotion for a body so small.

I whip around, looking for the source before settling back on Touya. He just stares back at me with that serene little smile, white hair playing in the small breeze. He's not upset in the slightest, eyes urging me to say something, to ignore the taste in my mouth and the voice in my head. To hug him and never let him go.

But I can't.

Not if he's lying to me.

'I'll prove it to that bastard. When he sees how strong I am, I'll get us both out of here.'

I just stare at Touya's unmoving face. He's not bothered in the least, just calmly staring back. It's wrong. Touya was always fairly aloof, but never to this extent.

'I promise.'

I stand up, turning away from him to run my hands through my hair. My head is spinning. Touya had said those words to me about a week ago. He'd gotten away. He proved his strength, so all we have to do now is leave.

"You know you have to go back, right?" His voice asks from behind me.

I turn around to see that he's stood up, coming to about my same height even with the slight age difference. He smiles gently, eyes full of that kindness I remember.

"We've already been over this, Touya. We're leaving. We're doing it tonight. I don't care if we're not ready, I'm not going back there!" I shout, frustration rising again as heat flushes my face.

He stays calm, just staring at me like we're having a normal conversation, like I haven't yelled at him at all, like the last 20 minutes never happened, "You know we can't do that." He mutters.

"Yes we can, Touya! Yes we can! Why are you so stubborn, why can't we just leave?!" I scream, not caring that the tears have finally spilled over my cheeks.

I don't understand. Why is he being like this? He wants to leave, doesn't he? He's always said that we'd run away together. Why would he lie about that? He wouldn't lie about that.

He wouldn't.

"Why are you still here, Hawks." He mutters, voice dropping several octaves and becoming rough with age and smoke inhalation.

"What?" I choke out.

My heart drops as he stands up, smile never leaving his lips. He seems different somehow, like he aged 10 years in the blink of an eye. But he looks the same. I can't wrap my head around it.

"Why are you still here?" He repeats, voice returning to normal.

My chest heaves as my mind races to keep up. I feel sick. Something is wrong, "No, before. What? What did you call me?"

"Hawks," he says in that awful, distorted and raspy voice.

"Why? Why are you calling me that. That's not my name. No." I ramble, a weightlessness filling my chest and choking my airway, "You know how much I hate that stupid name. Why would you-? I dont-?"

"You know you have to go back, right?" He smiles, voice back to normal once again.

Something about him. The way he smiles, the look in his eyes. It's all wrong. Twisted. Like a bad caricature of what he used to be.

It's not him.

"No .... No, who are you?!" I shout, taking stumbling steps away from him.

He doesn't move, just calmly staring back at me like he has this whole time. Like he always used to when I was upset. Has he always had those eyes? Empty and lifeless? Has he always been lying to me?

"You know who I am, Hawks."

I shake my head, pointing a furious finger, "No! You're not him! You're not Touya!"

He smiles, "Of course I'm not. Touya died years ago."

The words stab through my chest, ripping the air from my lungs, "You're lying! Touya was just here! Just yesterday, we met up here at this tree. What did you do to him?!"

The words come out high pitched and broken. My voice, too young to support the terror and grief flooding my veins. Nothing makes sense, but something about this conversation seems so familiar. Maybe I've dreamt about it before. Maybe that's what Touya and I had talked about the day before.

"Tree? What tree?" Touya asks.

And just like that, everything is gone. The calm breeze playing through his hair becomes the cold, harsh air from a metal vent. The birds chirping become the footsteps just beyond the door. The warm sun turns severe, nothing more than fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling.

I gasp, clutching at my chest as I take it all in. This is my room at the commission. But I can't be here. I snuck out like I always do. I left to meet up with Touya. I can't be here. This isn't real.

This isn't real.

"You haven't been to that tree in years, Hawks."

I look down at my hands, pale and scrawny, veins standing out harshly through the skin. I grip my hair as my wings coil protectively. Even they feel weak and dirty. It's like I'm covered in a layer of sanitary dust. Like every inch of my body has been contaminated by the cleanliness of nitrile gloves.

"Did you really think they'd let you leave after what you did?"

I blink and the room changes again. A bathroom stall with a poorly tied rope. The lights buzz incessantly as it sways gently. I screw my eyes shut, willing away the tightness in my windpipe and the sound of toiletries crashing to the floor.

"Stop it! No! It's not true!" I shout, gripping my hair even tighter.

"Of course it is, Hawks." Touya's voice starts before morphing into something lighter and more feminine, "Touya is an example to us all. Fighting against fate is a death sentence. The adults in your life always know best." Hana picks up until her tone dips into a deeper, more nasally sound, "So if you're a good boy, you'll take the pills and be quiet."

I shake my head, refusing to open my eyes. I don't want to see it. Why do I have to see it? I could live in that meadow with him forever. Who cares if it's real or not? Does that matter? At least there I could be happy. I could pretend everything is okay.

"Touya died so that you could flourish, Hawks. He was the last stubborn piece of Keigo that you never could seem to shake." Hana sneers.

"It doesn't do any good to fight, sugar, not when you're all tied up like that. You're just making it worse for yourself." A greasy old man warns.

I shake my head even harder, tears cascading down my cheeks as my wings curl around me. If I never look then it isn't real. They can't hurt me if I can't see them.

None of this is real.

None of this ever happened.

"So let go." Touya's voice murmurs.

It's kind and lilting with the curve of his smile. It's the way he always spoke before the problems with his quirk came out. Before his youngest brother was born. It's the voice that always calmed me down when I'd had a hard day. The voice that always reminded me that I was real and I had a name.

His fingers caress my jaw, warm like they always were, as he brings me in for a hug. The tension drains out of my body as I melt into the embrace.

I'm so tired.

It's all too much.

The warmth of his chest leeches the fear away as I give up. I haven't felt this comfort in so long. How can something my own mind created feel so real?

He steps back and I blink, refocusing my vision to see him one last time.

Blue flames fill the room as soon as I open my eyes. They crackle with life, feeding on the only source of energy right in the middle. Touya's skin bubbles and pops unnaturally, pieces sliding off to reveal horrid, almost purple flesh underneath. He smiles widely, only stretching and cracking the burned flesh further as his hair turns black with soot.

My voice catches in my throat as I take it all in, heart racing as the world seems to spin until all I can hear is my own wheezing breath in my ears.

I jolt upright in bed, eyes snapping open for what seems like the hundredth time as I catch my breath.

Chapter 14: Dabi

Notes:

We've made it! The chapter we've all been waiting for!
We'll get back to less action/plot heavy scenes in the next one, so thanks for sticking it out with me! I hope I've done it justice.

"My name is Tomura Shigaraki and I am the leader of the League of Villains. Despite what you might think, our goal is to make the world a better place by ridding society of the filth you call heroes.

So we are here today at an undisclosed location for a very important meeting of your beloved hero public safety commission. The agency meant to be protecting the values of modern society and hold the heroes to the highest standards.

But filth will never expose filth.

This meeting is truly a cover for a night of entertainment for the most important people at the commission. While this is nothing illegal in itself, the company they use is certainly not above board.

We have tracked numerous payouts from the commission to this modeling agency along with reports that models are being held captive, forced to engage in nonconsensual sex work, and made pliable by illegal substances.

Now you don't have to believe me, some sadistic freak who enjoys watching the world burn. No, you can take this Livestream as proof. We have my friend Himiko Toga infiltrating the meeting to show you all the proof of the agency you put so much faith in.

You will recognize several notable faces in this stream and we expect the police to be here soon and take appropriate action."

The Livestream cuts from Tomura's face to the video from Toga's collar. It bounces along with her steps down the hallway as sensual music grows louder.

I chance a look at the stats to see thousands of viewers and comments flying by. I've never understood technology as well as some other members of the league seem to, but I know what this means. We're reaching people. We could make a difference.

Toga's camera rounds the corner to reveal quite the sight. Models lounge on a large stage, chatting with various people dressed in business attire. The lights flash and fog filters in from somewhere to set some sort of mood. Some of them dance as others watch, barely keeping their hands to themselves. One model stumbles behind a man in a suit, immediately identifiable as someone from Tomura's list due to his heteromorphic quirk. She's obviously intoxicated and his hands grope wherever he can reach as he leads her away.

It's like some sort of club. It honestly doesn't look all that concerning. Sure, the average person would hope their taxes weren't funding activities like these, but it's not necessarily anything illegal.

"Hey, Tadashi!" A voice calls from nearby as a woman with a rabbit quirk bounds up to the camera. The view rests squarely on the chest window of her dress.

Tomura sighs and rolls his eyes at the screen, turning away slightly.

"Hey...." Toga calls back.

"Have you seen Hawks?" She asks, and the camera spins slightly as Toga looks around the room.

"Nope." Toga replies.

The rabbit woman scoffs, "He fucking disappeared at the beginning of the show and then I saw him going to the back with some dude and he looked like hell, Tadashi."

I feel my stomach drop at the intonation of her words. She's obviously worried, but she's pissed at him too. It's a combination Keigo seems to bring out best in people.

"Well it sounds like he's working, then. Look, I'm sure he's fine. You know how he gets." Toga says, sounding surprisingly reassuring.

The woman laughs bitterly, "Yeah, I do know how he gets, and that's why I'm worried. Just, look for him will you? And please make sure he's alright."

Toga hums in agreement before the woman leaves to rejoin the others on the stage. They seem to be relatively unbothered by the surroundings, standing at tables with alcohol and dancing with the commission agents in suits.

Toga turns away and heads down the hallway the heteromorph had gone down earlier. It leads to rows upon rows of private rooms, most of them with random garments haphazardly hung on the door handle.

Nothing specific can be heard over the music in the background, but one of the rooms boasts a rhythmic knocking that I can imagine as one thing. Toga walks to the end of the hallway when one of the doors suddenly flies open.

She spins, getting a better view of the scene with the camera as someone practically falls out of the door. Red wings splay wide as he lands on his knees. I practically choke on my own breath as I lean closer to the screen.

It's him.

His face is almost entirely obscured by the door as a hand reaches out to grab a fistful of his hair and pull him back in. It lasts momentarily before he's shoved back out into the hallway again and a woman with long blonde hair struts out behind him.

Keigo stays where he'd fallen, haphazardly propped against the wall and a dazed expression on his face. The woman smiles at him before her gaze slides over the camera.

"Oh hello there, darling. You stay right here, I know someone who would just love to spend some time with you." She purrs before scampering away.

The camera doesn't move for moment, just watching as Keigo gathers himself and tries to stand. My heart twists when his knees knock against the floor again, leaving him in the same exact spot.

"Need some help?" Toga asks, getting closer.

It's the thing I'd been waiting for this entire raid. To see him, to know he's okay. And yet I feel more nauseous with each step she takes.

"Tada! I did good, fuck you asshole." Keigo slurs out, face morphing from one extreme emotion to the next.

The camera lowers as Toga kneels down beside him. He looks over and he's almost unrecognizable. Dark circles surround his eyes, poorly covered by makeup long smudged away. His eyes are unfocused and he blinks just a little too slowly. Toga's fingers come into screen as she wipes away tear tracks and more of his makeup with them.

Keigo doesn't even seem to register she touched him at all, scratching at his neck and looking away with a lolled head. Toga's hand hesitates and she pulls away as the camera seems to focus in on his neck.

Several deep red bruises mar the skin at the base of his neck, also poorly covered with makeup products and a high-collared shirt. As Toga leans back to get a better view, the mesh of the shirt seems to become invisible as a whole line of those nasty bruises peek through.

I can barely catch my breath as my hands fly up over my mouth. The crushing weight of it all seems to settle on my chest and it feels like I might be sick. Tomura settles a hand on my back, but it doesn't do much to help.

Not when I did this to him.

"Are you alright?" Toga calls out and Keigo seems to flinch at her voice.

He extends a hand, "Help me up."

Toga grabs onto him and the camera shakes as they struggle to get him to his feet. She finally pulls back after a moment and he clings to the wall like it's a lifeline, his wings drooping behind him.

"Don't tell Rumi." He mutters, keeping his eyes downcast.

Toga sighs heavily, "The bathroom next to the storage supply closet downstairs. Meet me there, Rumi won't see you, I promise."

I sit up sharply, looking over at Tomura in shock. My stomach twists as I understand what she was doing. I look back at the camera to see an older man waltzing up to her as Keigo staggers in the other direction.

She's sending him to us. She's getting the footage we need and sending him to us ... To me.

Tomura points at the door, gesturing for me to go and I hear one of the others follow right behind me.

My heart races as I practically fall out of the door. There's no way this is happening. The moment I'd dreamed of for so long. The moment I've feared since the day I left.

What if he recognizes me?

What if he doesn't?

What if he hates me?

What if he doesn't?

Either option seems equally wrong. More than I could ever deserve. But the way my chest aches tells me one of them has to be right. I need to see him again. It can't end how I left things.

"Fuck." A voice mutters from the top of the steps and I whip my head in the direction of the noise.

There he is.

Keigo.

He stares at the steps, swaying precariously as he grips his sleeve. It had obviously gotten caught on something and he'd just torn the fabric instead of bothering to figure out how to get unstuck.

My feet move before I can even think and before I know it, he's in my arms. I rest my hand on the top of his back and hook my arms under his legs, quickly carrying him to the bathroom and out of sight.

"I'll guard the door." Spinner grunts, and the sound of the door clicking shut follows soon after.

I set Keigo down, marveling at the way his wings billow out around him. He was always so uptight with them before. He hated when people tried to touch them and was always worried about being in people's way.

This is so different from the way I remember him.

His eyes, usually bright and curious settle on my face with a cold emptiness that makes me sick. He doesn't recognize me at all, that much is apparent. In fact, it seems like he doesn't recognize anything.

He just stares blankly ahead, fingers and wings twitching as his breaths come faster and faster. I panic, laying a gentle hand on his back and rubbing soothing circles. It's what I always used to do when he'd cry. Maybe it would have the same effect now.

"Come on, come back to me, Keigo." I mutter, brushing some hair out of his eyes.

He tilts his head at me and for a moment it feels like he knows who I am. Like he's staring straight into my soul. I know it's impossible with how intoxicated he is, but it still sends a jolt of surprise through me.

He coughs violently before leaning over the toilet and heaving painfully. I just hold him, rubbing his back and muttering to him until he's done, grabbing a paper towel to clean him up afterwards. I lean over to flush the mess, but think better of it when I notice the concerning purple hue.

This is too much for us to handle. We can't take him with us. He needs help from a real doctor and he needs it soon. Tears prick at my eyes as he looks at me again, brow furrowed and eyes so deep.

I just brush at his hair, wetting a paper towel and cleaning all the makeup off of his face. It's surreal to be touching him like this after a decade. I thought when I found him again, he'd be the number one hero, swimming in success with a family and maybe a couple cats. I never imagined I'd be helping him puke up drugs, hoping to any god out there he doesn't die from an overdose.

I can't help the guilt gnawing away at my gut. I promised him we'd get out of that place together. And I left him there. I left him there, knowing what kind of place it was, but feeling confident he'd be able to make it through.

What happened?

Because this isn't the headstrong boy I remember from so long ago. He'd never leave himself so vulnerable. He'd never make a deal where he's at such a disadvantage.

"You're okay. You're okay." I mumble as I mess with his sleeve, tearing the loose fabric away so it doesn't get into anything.

Underneath, nearly his entire forearm is wrapped in gauze, a thin red line just beginning to seep through. I gasp quietly, turning back up to see his face only to find him already staring down at me.

"Blue." He mumbles, barely audible, as he stares into my eyes.

I hum, rubbing his back as my heart twists once again.

Does he know?

His fingers find their way to my hair, twirling one of the dark strands between his fingers, "Wrong." He whispers, even quieter than before.

My eyes blow wide and I choke back my tears as he hurls himself back over the toilet again.

"Dabi, the cops are here. We gotta go now." Spinner shouts, opening the door.

I turn back towards Keigo to find him staring at me with half-lidded eyes and a confused smile. I lean him against the cabinets with easy access to the toilet in case he needs to hurl again. I brush the hair out of his face one last time as the tears finally fall down my cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Keigo." I whisper, "I'll find you again. I promise. You're gonna be okay."

He just stares at me, with that same empty expression that just seems so utterly exhausted, it's painful. I stand up, scared to leave him.

What if he chokes on his own vomit?

What if one of them come back?

What if he dies and he's all alone?

"They know where he is, I promise." Tomura says from the doorway, "Dabi please, we have to go."

I look at him, on the verge of breaking down and he grabs my shoulder, pulling me in for a hug.

"You can't help him if you're in jail." He reminds.

And I know it's true, but now that I've found him again, it's so hard to leave him. It was something I did purely out of shame last time. By the time I was well enough to attempt an escape, it has been nearly a year and I looked like a monster. He'd never recognize me, let alone leave with me.

So I convinced myself he could handle things. Besides, from the things he'd told me, it didn't seem as violent as my father's. Surely things couldn't get worse. He was brilliant, surely they'd want to nurture that as best they could.

But I was wrong.

God, I was wrong.

Horrible, unspeakable things have happened to him and I don't think I'll ever be able to make up for it.

I ruined him, just like I've ruined every other thing I've ever loved. If I had stuck it out a little bit longer, maybe I could've protected him. If I'd just run away instead of trying to prove myself to my stupid, asshole father, maybe things could be different.

The first person I ever killed wasn't myself.

My very first victim was Keigo Takami.

Chapter 15: Hawks

Notes:

Little longer than usual, but I figured this was better than 2 short chapters! Also, sorry for the long wait! I had a bout of writer's block, but my motivation is back and kicking and this story is one that I won't be leaving behind any time soon!
Some hand-wavey technological jargon, apologies!

The steady beeping of a heart monitor fills the room as I blink painfully. Everything is too bright, too loud. It's too much. The world seems to spin with every piercing breath.

"Ah, good morning, Hawks." Hana's voice cuts through the noise.

The tone reverberates through my wings, sending lightning bolts of cold pain through my spine. It's like they're an open nerve, even the air from the vent is enough to make me cringe.

I force my eyes open to find her staring down at me with a frown bordering on disgust. It's something I've grown used to over the years. The disappointment curling her lip when I inevitably fuck up again.

It's something I can't seem to stop doing. You'd think after this many years that I would know, that I'd have learned how to be a good hero. That I'd be able to put the past behind me.

"You've really disappointed me, Hawks." Hana mutters, pacing behind the bed where I can't see her.

I don't bother to crane my neck and follow her, my grave is as deep as it can possibly go. Breaking smaller rules of manners would just be the icing on top. Plus with the way the world is screaming at me, I don't know if I'd be able to keep up anyways.

"We need to have a little chat about your future with us. You think you're up for that?" She coos, coming back around to stand in front of me.

"What happened?" I whisper, voice coming out far more crackly than I intended it to.

It's like I've swallowed a lump of clay, coating the sides of my throat and turning to stone with each breath. I need some water, but I don't think asking for it would go over well.

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, "Why don't you try to tell me, hmm?"

I sigh heavily. I don't know why I expected to actually get answers from her. She's always been fond of these mind games. Usually I try to play along, pushing the bounds as much as I can. But I'm just so tired of it all.

"I don't know, Hana." I reply, making sure to keep eye contact, as squinted as it is.

"You're not even going to try?" Her lip twitches up into a scowl as she shakes her head, "My, how far you've fallen, Hawks. What happened to that little boy who wanted to be a hero more than anything?"

I can't help the scoff that shoots out of my throat, sending reverberations through my head in painful waves, "That wasn't being a hero and you know it. Stop fucking with me, Hana."

Her eyes blow wide and for a moment the fear in my gut rears its head before bitter joy overtakes it. I think this is the first time I've ever left her speechless. It's much more satisfying than I could've ever imagined.

"You're right." She mutters with a smirk, "But I don't think you're in any position to be making requests like that."

She stares into my eyes, brown flashing bright green as it suddenly gets extremely hard to breathe. I hadn't been victim to her quirk too many times, but it was an experience I never wanted to repeat. It's absolute agony. With no starting point or endpoint, just the simultaneous firing of every nerve ending in my entire body, prickling and burning until I feel like my head's going to explode.

She lets go, turning away as the feeling subsides all at once, "I get to fuck with you as often as I want. I get to break you down and mold you into whatever I want. The commission has opinions about it, of course, but at the end of the day, you belong to me."

I catch my breath, bringing a weak hand up to my throat in some feeble attempt of composure. Hana just smiles, teeth like a sharks as she continues to pace those dizzying circles around me. Maybe I'm still coming off the drugs because I swear even her footsteps send sharp cracks of sound through my wings.

"We had to address several behavioral issues when you came to us last night. First of all was your foolish attempt on your own life. Do you remember that, Hawks? Burying one of your own feathers into your arm?" She taunts.

I cringe, the memory flooding back, distorted but there all the same. I remember how my face looked in that mirror, with blood dripping down my fingertips. It was like I was staring at a monster. Horrific, twisted features and yet such a sadness in his eyes. It couldn't have been me, and yet it was.

Looking back on it now, the distortions had been nothing more than running mascara and smudged makeup, but I had been so sure then. So sure that the monster in the mirror was someone else. That he could never be me.

"Yeah, I remember that. Might've worked if someone hadn't found me." I force out with a slight chuckle.

My words were brazen, far more than usual, spurred by a hot hatred in my chest. I know I can't do anything about my place here, but at least I can make her life hell while I'm at it. If I have suffer, she deserves to suffer too. I've got nothing else to lose.

I pissed away the only person who's ever loved me, then my best friend, then my life. What's left? Maybe if I can irk her enough, she'll finally put an end to this misery and then I can finally be free.

I expect a biting retort from her, maybe even a harsh slap. I never expected her to smile even wider, eyes glinting maliciously as she nods in what seems like approval.

"I see."

I frown, shifting my wings slightly only to elicit more harsh twinges of pain. I fold one slightly to get it into view only to see that all of my flight feathers had been harshly tipped, leaving angry, dark red stubs in their place. They'd even gone as far as to tip most of my sensory feathers as well. They know as well as I do the different purposes of my feathers. This was intentional. They wanted to cause me pain.

No wonder my quirk was acting up so much. I was getting everything all at once through the open wounds. Every noise, every vibration, it was all filtering through me like a tsunami hitting a bridge.

The meds must be dulling it, or I doubt I'd be lucid enough to have a conversation like this. They hadn't clipped my wings since I'd tried to run away. And that time, they weren't kind enough to put me to sleep for the procedure. They wanted me to feel every agonizing minute when the world itself cut out of existence only to blink back in at a nauseating, break-neck speed, singeing all my nerves in an attempt to process the information.

It was something I'd promised myself would never happen again.

"What the fuck did you do to me?" I growl, as Hana only continues to smile.

She shrugs, "Well, it's in the commission's best interest to keep you alive, Hawks. Why would we grant you use of a dangerous tool you've already proven yourself unfit to handle? Plus, I don't think you deserve to reap the benefits from something you've abused so much, do you?"

I almost laugh at the irony in her words.

"Fuck you," I spit.

She leans back, that infuriating smile still twisting her lips upwards, "We've been talking about it for a while, Hawks, but I never thought you were ready. I thought you'd lose yourself to the job and we'd have another Nagant on our hands. And nobody wants to deal with a fiasco like that again."

She hums, "But I think you're finally ready."

I huff, rolling my eyes but biting my tongue. Whatever I say won't deter her, if anything she is enjoying my complete and utter lack of survival skills. Every scathing word just adding onto the fire she's about to throw me into.

"You're going to begin training with our special unit once you've healed. This is where you'll work to earn the things you want." She says, clasping her hands in front of her.

"You want your apartment decorations back? Done. Your patrols? Done. Your little friend, Miruko? More tricky, but nothing a bit of money won't be able to solve."

She laughs, smiling at the rage boiling just underneath my skin. Rumi would never accept a payout like that. If she'd known what was going on in that modeling agency, she'd have been on the front lines to take it down. She's a good person. She's always been a good person. She doesn't deserve to be pulled down into the hellhole of my life. They'd eat her alive.

"Just eliminate the targets we give you. It's simple, really. They're all threats to our way of life, so don't worry about the morals of it all. Besides, taking a life has never seemed to difficult for you before, has it?"

Blue fills my mind as soon as the words leave her mouth and the rage finally boils over, "You leave him out of this!"

She chuckles, shaking her head and turning to leave the room, "You've three days. That should be enough time for your wings to scab over and then your training begins. I suggest you get your life in order before then."

The metal door slams with her exit, the sound fracturing in my veins and sending shards of pain through my spine. I sigh, leaning my head back against the chair as my mind spins.

I still don't know what happened. Hazy flashes fill my mind, but none of them are enough to explain how I got here. Just the sickly warmth of strangers' bodies and the bitter taste of those pills. Every time I try to remember, my stomach twists with nausea.

I don't want to see their faces when I close my eyes. I don't want to smell their skin when it gets too quiet. But for once, my mind is blissfully free of him. Completely devoid of white hair and a crooked smile. Maybe I'd finally gone too far. Maybe my mind's twisted version of his ghost had finally grown too disappointed to watch me fail any longer.

Maybe he's right.

Everything is gone. Everything I'd ever thought I was meant for had been taken from me. Hero, friend, lover - all of them leave a sickening taste on my tongue.

What's left?

As the nurses file in to check on me before I leave, there's one thing I know for certain.

I can't go back to that apartment.

***************************************************

15 voicemails and dozens of missed calls. Rumi's contact is responsible for nearly all of the notifications filling my phone. Along with her name, there are several missed calls from unknown numbers as well. I sigh and lean further back into the bus seat and begin to sift through the messages.

"Call me when you get a chance. I'm worried about you." Rumi's most recent message reads.

I sigh again, running a hand down my face in an attempt to wipe the exhaustion from my eyes. The overstimulation coming from my wings has mostly died down, leaving the dull roar of nothingness behind. The healing process cycles through varying levels of sensitivity before the tips finally scab over. It leaves my quirk severely handicapped, but at least every piece of dust doesn't make my blood ignite in agony.

I chew on my lip as I check the rest of the messages. I'm going to have to call her. I can't avoid her forever. Especially if I'm meant to go away on training in a couple days. She'd hunt me down. Or at least that's what she would have done before. I can't say how this past month has affected our relationship.

Maybe she wouldn't even bat an eye at my disappearance.

As I scroll through the rest of the notifications, one from an unknown number catches my eye. The breath rushes out of my lungs as I read.

"Keigo, I'm so sorry."

I never thought I'd see that name again. No one knew it. No one who was alive anyways. My handlers had even stopped using it years ago. It shouldn't be possible for anyone to know. My records were all sealed.

I send a message back, "Who is this?" Trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut as I shuffle off of the bus, ambling down a side street to get out of the way.

A sudden buzzing from the device draws my attention and I look down to see an incoming call from Rumi, the derogatory nickname I'd set as her contact years ago suddenly seeming tasteless and mean. I click the green button before I can dwell on it any longer, raising the speaker to my ear as my nerves eat my stomach from the inside out.

"Hawks?" Her voice is just as concerned as the day I told her about Touya. When she found out just how messed up I am. When she told me it would be okay. It's the same voice she uses when she knows I'm about to break.

I sniff back a hot rush of tears, wrestling to keep my voice neutral as I respond, "Hey."

The sigh that echoes on the other end of the line is shaky and thick with emotion, "Hawks, I ... Are you okay?"

I chuckle half-heartedly. She always did have a way with words. "I'm alive." Is all I can muster as a response.

She huffs, "I was really worried about you. Nanako and I went to the hospital to visit Tadashi and you weren't there. No one would tell me where you were and you wouldn't answer my calls or texts I .... I didn't know what to think."

I rub the space between my eyebrows, already feeling the headache this conversation is going to become, especially with my quirk starting to act up again.

"I just woke up this morning. They transferred me to a different hospital for privacy or whatever. You know how it goes." My stomach twists anxiously as I tack on, "Is Tadashi okay?"

Rumi sniffles rather harshly, "Yeah. Yeah, Tadashi is fine. Just nearly overdosed on those damn pills. Luckily they were engineered to have no withdrawal side effects, but he's still pretty sick. He can barely keep a meal down between all the officers asking for statements." The line goes silent for a minute before she blurts, "It was you in that video, wasn't it?"

I feel my blood run cold, "What video?" I respond almost instantly.

"The League of Villains' Livestream. They exposed the illegal prostitution ring that the magazine had been hiding? The footage blurred over the actual victims but one of them was you, wasn't it? It sounded just like you." She rushes out.

All the breath leaves my lungs. They have footage. Proof of my weakness for all to see. Not just the scandal of a one night stand, but visual proof labeling me as a 'victim.' My hero career is over. No wonder Hana wants to transfer me. No one can trust a victim to protect them when he can't even protect himself.

"I ... There's video?" I mumble out dumbly.

She inhales sharply, "Hawks ... I'm so sorry, I didn't know!" Her words take on an edge as her breaths start to heave out in the beginnings of tears, "I said all those awful things to you and you were ... Hawks, I'm so sorry!"

Her voice crackles over the speaker, too loud to come through clearly, sending shockwaves through my wings. The wind has begun to grow uncomfortable as my quirk rears its head again and the painkillers are leaving my system.

"You don't have to forgive me. I know I was a terrible friend to you. I can't even imagine what you've been going through and I just made it all so much fucking worse." She bulldozes on.

I start to feel uncomfortably warm as her words send wave after wave of electric pain crackling through my veins. The wind of the alley cuts across the tips of my wings and I'm violently aware of the sounds of my own body.

"Hawks, you're one of the most important people in my life and I left you to deal with this all on your own. I hate myself for what I said to you. I just ... I want you to know that I'm sorry. You don't have to accept it, you don't even have to say anything at all. I just want you to hear it. I'm so sorry, Hawks."

I huff, trying to catch my breath after her voice stops it's rippling rampage through my nervous system. I know what I have to do. Hana's words echo in my mind, 'get your life in order.'

If Rumi thinks I still care about her, she'd go to the ends of the earth to make it up to me. She'd inadvertently put herself in danger trying to find me. Who knows what the commission would do if she accidentally interfered. This is for her as much as it is for me.

I have to make her leave.

"Don't call this number again." I mumble shortly.

She huffs out a disbelieving breath, "W-what? Hawks, I know you're upset with me but please don't let this ruin us!"

"You did that all on your own, Rumi."

"H-hawks? Please." Her voice sounds small and broken. It sends a shard of pain through my chest.

"I don't hate you, Rumi, but I don't forgive you either. I need you to give me some space." I mumble, trying to make this break as painless as possible.

Rumi's breaths come out quick and distressed as she tries to process, "I ... I understand. I want to be there to help you, Hawks." She pleads.

"But I don't want that. You're a reminder of some of the worst fucking weeks of my life. I don't want to hear your voice. I don't want to see your face. I don't want to think about you until this all blows over."

She hiccups, "I ... W-when can I see you again?"

"I don't know, Rumi."

"I understand. If this is what helps you heal, I ... I'll stay away. I w-won't call or text. I want you to be okay again. I want the best for you. That's all I've ever wanted." She croaks out.

It somehow breaks my heart even more as idle tears roll down my cheeks. I didn't realize this was going to be so hard.

"Thank you, Rumi. Goodbye." I mumble, taking the phone away from my ear and hanging up before she has a chance to respond.

I shut my phone off, heartbeat rattling in my chest as my quirk turns the sunlight into needles. I stagger down the alleyway as my heart curls in on itself.

Is it possible for a heart to break so many times?

How many more before it's useless altogether?

Chapter 16: Dabi

Notes:

First flashback from Touya's perspective!!

"Touya?"

I groan, clenching my eyes closed as tightly as possible. The pounding in my head was enough rang like a gong, almost completely drowning out the panicked whispers from next to me.

"Touya, are you okay?"

I groan again, raising a meek hand to my head but keeping steadfast in keeping my eyes shut. There was no need to make the headache even worse with the fluorescent lights I know would be blaring up above.

"Touya, she's coming. You've gotta get up now. Please."

The voice beside me is practically begging at this point, soft voice clicking as his panic rises. I sigh heavily as my hand comes away sticky. I'd have to get treatment for a head wound like this. There'd be no getting around it.

My father won't be happy.

"Todoroki?" A sharp voice barks from somewhere at my feet.

Shit.

Mai.

I snap my eyes open, breath hissing through my teeth as the light burns through my retinas, adding on to the already incessant pounding in my forehead. Mai stood before me, arms crossed unhappily but gaze focused harshly on the boy beside me. I turn slightly to see Hawks staring right back with a subdued expression, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact. His wings droop slightly under the scrutiny of her gaze.

"Hawks? Do you care to explain? This was meant to be a safe sparring activity. Our healer isn't on sight today so we were just meant to be practicing drills. Right?" She crows.

Hawks deflates even further under her gaze, "I'm sorry, Mai. I don't know what happened. I felt something with my feathers. I reacted as you trained."

Mai huffs out a haughty laugh, "Getting cheeky, are we? I don't care for these excuses, you should learn to watch your tongue."

His wings shudder ever so slightly as he nods shakily, "I'm sorry." He mutters again, shrinking into himself.

I squint at the pair feeling my blood rush hot through my veins. The way he apologizes so readily, it's just like Fuyumi. Saying anything to escape his wrath for just a little longer. It makes me sick.

"So it's your quirk being too sensitive again? We'll get that figured out for you. I'll call your handler so she can get an appointment set up for you this afternoon." Mai barks.

Hawks' eyes grow glossy at the mention of his handler, but he nods nonetheless, "Thank you." He mutters.

I groan, shifting until I am sitting up properly and leveling the woman with my best glare. With the blood I can feel running down my cheek, I imagine I look quite terrifying. She simply glares back, never even bothering to uncross her arms.

"It was my fault. I grabbed him from behind when that's not even one of the drills we trained for. So if you're going to yell at someone, yell at me." I huff, catching Hawks' surprised expression out of the corner of my eye.

Mai only laughs, shaking her head as she stares me down, "Oh yeah? So you'll be fine if I tell your father about this, then? He's already going to see the cut on your head. He'll already know you were weak enough to let yourself get hurt. Do you really want him to know you're taking credit for causing the incident too? Throwing your hero career away to pursue martyrdom?"

Every work strikes home just as she'd intended. My father will be angry about the cut, but he'd be furious if he found out I was breaking the rules, even if it was a lie. Hero ethics didn't apply to him. He'd often shout about how stupid the social justice movements were, claiming that the hero in support had just wasted their entire career.

But my career wasn't mine to waste. He would see such an act as going against his entire life's goals. It would be as though I'd spit in his face. I wouldn't make it out of the training room for a week straight. And who knows if I'd even make it that long. I had already disappointed him enough, I don't know how many more incidents I can live through without becoming a lost cause.

I look up at Mai briefly, deliberately avoiding the intense eye contact from Hawks. From the satisfied grin on her face, she already knows what I'm about to say. That only makes the words taste even more sour.

"No, please don't tell my father." I mumble out.

She hums, "Well with an incident like this, I'd have to. That is ... Unless you were lying about causing it?"

I blink harshly, trying not to acknowledge the mass of red swimming in my peripheral. Hawks is kind to me. But he doesn't know what it's like to live only for someone else's goals. To be only an object for their own satisfaction. From what he's told me in the short time we've known one another, he lives with the commission. He most likely has access to all the resources and healers he could ever dream of. People are assigned to tuck him into bed at night. He might not have parents per say, but if mine are anything to go off of, that is a good thing.

I take a deep breath, feeling the heat in my veins rise, "I didn't cause anything. Hawks just attacked me without warning." I mumble, trying to sound as strong as a boy barely 10 years old possible can.

Mai chuckles, rounding on Hawks again, "You're trying to get people to take the blame for you now too? Tricky, Hawks. If you ask me, that sounds like something a villain would do. You'd know all about that, huh? It's in your veins, isn't it? You're rotten and everyone knows it."

I keep my eyes forward, trying not to watch as Hawks' strong facade crumbles and his shoulders begin to shake. I try not to listen as he chokes on tears. My heart clenches painfully and I try to brush it away. I can't afford to get attached like this. Father would not approve.

"That's what we're here for, Hawks. We're going to make you all clean again, give you the life you never could have had otherwise. We're going to make you a hero." She pauses, crouching down, "So this ungrateful behavior has to stop, do you hear me? I'm going to escort Todoroki to the nurse and you're going to be sitting quietly in my office when I get back, alright?"

The way she hisses the words make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don't know what will happen to him, but I hope they aren't too harsh. They have to know he was just acting on reflex and it wasn't entirely his fault.

I keep my eyes trained on the ground as Mai gestures for me to follow her, only watching me long enough to ensure I can walk unassisted. I listen as his sniffles grow more and more distant with each step I take.

I did the right thing. They wouldn't hurt him the way my father hurts me. I know it. But that doesn't stop the pulsing sickness lingering at the back of my throat. If this is the right thing, why does it feel like I've made a horrible mistake?

 

*******************************************************************

 

I huff, standing up from the couch to grab another beer out of the fridge. Tomura's eyes follow me as they have been doing since last night when we were forced to leave Keigo behind. It was endearing at first, to know he cared, but it was quickly grating on my nerves.

"Have we heard anything yet?" I mumble, cracking the lid and looking around at the rest of the league scattered about the room.

Toga lounges on the couch, sprawled upside down on Twice's lap examining her knives. Compress sits at the bar near Spinner, each scrolling through their respective rooms silently. Kurogiri tends to the glasses behind the bar that seem to need perpetual cleaning, and Tomura just stares.

"Multiple arrests have been made, but the commission hasn't released a public statement yet." Mr. Compress mutters, offering a sympathetic glance in my direction before turning back to his phone.

"The fact that it's taking them this long means that we got to them. There's not an easy way to lie their way out of this one." Spinner mumbles.

I sigh, trudging back over to the couch under Tomura's watchful eyes. It's not the news I was hoping for and they all know it. Several bloodstained towels currently spin in the washer from the tears it had taken me hours to get under control.

Toga sits up, carefully stowing away her knife as she does so. She scoots over next to me, leaning her head against my shoulder with a small sigh. She fidgets with her hands for a minute before perking up slightly and turning towards me.

"His feather! We have one of his feathers! Doesn't his quirk have something to do with his feathers?" She asks, hope lacing her tone in a way that has my heart twisting.

I shake my head, grimacing slightly, "That one was pulled. The ones he pulls or sheds are useless as far as his quirk goes. It's a lot of really confusing technicalities but any feathers used for surveillance that are separated from his body have to be voluntarily released or something. And they're always connected to him somehow."

Toga frowns, looking back down at her lap and fiddling with her fingers again. It was a good idea, in her defense, but Keigo was nothing if not difficult. And he had a quirk with enough mysteries to rival All Might.

"He never really liked talking about it. I never got to learn all the details. Thanks for trying though, Toga, it was a good idea." I say, offering a weak smile.

Tomura's gaze is heavy as ever as he shifts, crossing one thin leg over the other. He looks down at his phone when I turn my eyes towards him.

"I miss him." Toga mutters sadly, grabbing onto my jacket and picking at a loose thread.

I sigh, nodding, "Yeah, me too."

I had been going over every childhood memory I had while training with the Commission since we'd left. It was horrifying just how wrong I had been about everything. It was obvious how scared he was. How much pain he was hiding during our short sparring sessions. And then later on when we'd gotten closer and begun sneaking out, he'd told me as much.

And I still didn't believe him.

Somewhere in my adolescent brain, I'd convinced myself that my situation was the worst possible and that Keigo had to have it better. That he was exaggerating. He was so kind, there was no way things could be as bad as he said. They may have been subconscious thoughts, but they were still corrosive enough to leak into my actions back then.

Why hadn't I helped him escape?

Why didn't I go back?

I wouldn't have had to tell him who I was, he was obviously desperate.

How did I ignore him every time he begged me to help?

I can't get his eyes out of my head. The way they were so empty and yet so familiar. The way he smiled at me, so carefree and innocent. But it was all artificial.

What would he have been like without all the drugs in his system?

Would he have been like Tadashi?

Would he have been like me?

"The forums are lighting up in our defense, Shigaraki. They're demanding answers from the Commission. This could get ugly pretty quick." Spinner mumbles, interrupting my train of thought and breaking the heavy silence of the room.

Tomura nods, pocketing his phone, "Ugly is good. Gives us the perfect distraction to make a move."

"What if the pretty bird can't wait that long? / He's dead, lost cause!" Twice says, scratching his chin under his mask.

I can't help but agree with his sentiment. It might take weeks for anything to happen that would cause enough panic at the Commission for us to make a move. He could be gone by then. They could have moved him yesterday. For all we know, it could already be too late.

Tomura grimaces, "We'll find him." He mumbles, standing from the couch and stalking out of the room.

It's the first time he's left me alone for hours. In tandem with the uncertainty in his statement are enough to make my stomach do anxious flips. Does he think he's already dead? Why wouldn't he just say so?

"Magne texted," Mr. Compress hums, turning his body towards the door, "She says she's heading over, that she has something for us."

Twice whips his head towards Mr. Compress quicker than should be humanly possible while Toga leaps off of my lap. They both bounce excitedly, making little happy noises and clapping like children who just heard the ice cream truck.

I look over at Mr. Compress with a raised brow, "Who's Magne?"

Chapter 17: Hawks

Notes:

This was a bit of a mess and took me far too long to figure out, but it's finally out! I'm mainly setting up for the next chapter so hopefully this one isn't terribly boring.

Stumbling down the side street, I wipe angry tears from my face. It had been much harder to speak that way to Rumi than I'd ever imagined.

Sure, at least I didn't disappear on her, but I lied. I forgave her before she even had the chance to apologize. Saying the opposite went against the very foundation of the friendship we'd built together.

But it's for the best.

She's given so much to me. She'd listened to countless nights of whining about how lonely I'd become. She comforted me after finding out about Touya, strong arms wrapping me up. When I was with her, I could forget for a little while.

I could pretend I was normal.

It's like I've just lost Touya all over again.

My ribcage twists in my chest, squeezing until I can barely breathe. The stuttered breaths grate on my wings, my quirk's sensitivity only making things worse.

I need to come up with a plan.

What Hana was talking about wasn't being a hero. It was murder. No matter how the Commission tried to justify it, killing people isn't something I can do.

The closest I'd gotten to hero work with the commission's help was a few patrols and some small-time rescue work. Always under the watchful eyes of a superior agent, always nothing more than a publicity stunt.

But it seems like the commission is dragging me further and further away from my dream with each passing assignment. The modeling agency was just the first step. They wanted me to lose control.

They wanted me to lose everything so they could manipulate me when I was at rock bottom.

It's what they did to my mom.

It was only a matter of time before I experienced it too.

What choice do I have though?

At the end of the day, I'm nothing without them. I'll end up back on the streets, scrounging and thieving the way my father did. Hell, I'm already halfway there.

With everything I'd already done, my reputation was beyond repair. Once that video was leaked, it's the only thing I'll ever be known for. At best I'm a coked up whore, at worst I'm a helpless victim.

Neither option is one the people would see as a trustworthy hero.

So Hana's option is the only one I have left, right?

If I can't be a real hero because of my public image, the least I can do is help them from the shadows. After all, it's my fault I'm in this position in the first place.

If I'd never gotten attached to him in the first place, none of this would've happened. If I had let him brush me off, if I'd never talked to him after he ratted me out that day, if I didn't forgive him for every time our antics landed me in deep shit.

He would still be dead.

But I might still have a future.

The thought tears at my chest, and I struggle to swallow around the guilt welling up.

My hand finds the wall of the alley and I stabilize myself against it, breathing heavily. Tears prick at the back of my eyes and my wings scream.

What am I thinking?

How could I think of him that way?

He had gotten me through so much. He had been the one to introduce me to kindness, even if it didn't always turn out the way he'd hoped. He tried to stand up for me. That's more than anyone had ever done for me before.

How could I be anything less than grateful to him?

My head throbs with the contradiction of it all. What makes him so different from the Commission? Both of them had hurt me while claiming to help. How can I single one of them out as better than the other?

None of it makes any sense and my quirk is becoming a bigger pain by the second.

If I could just get my hands on some of those pills I might be able to think this all through. Quiet the noise down just enough for logic to kick in. They had kept me sane while trying to make it out of the agency, they could do the same now.

My mouth waters at the thought, the phantom bitterness pricking at my taste buds. It would be so easy to find a substitute for the purple tablets, especially in a place like this.

A train screeches past in the distance and I drop to the ground, nerves burning in agony as the sound filters through my wings. I groan through the waves of pain, reaching for my wings to try and get the leftover vibrations to stop manually. I draw my hand back at the stickiness to see my fingers coated in blood.

They must have tipped them harsher than I'd initially thought. Or maybe it was just the sheer overstimulation from my quirk.

"Hey baby, " a greasy sounding voice mutters from the shadows of the connecting alley.

I cringe, eyes adjusting until I can make him out. He's thin and obviously unwashed, his blonde hair plastered to his forehead in dirty waves. He smiles, teeth half rotten and lips stretched too thin.

"The fuck do you want?" I grumble.

He chuckles, too wet to be healthy, "I'm more interested in what you want. I've got some of the good stuff. Pretty thing like you deserves a discount."

He twitches, hand disappearing into his bag and returning with a plastic baggy full of little green tablets. My mouth waters at the sight and I pull myself up to my feet.

Unfortunately, it's not the source I'd prefer, but he had what I needed. I could get through a bit of his creepiness if it meant I'd get some relief at the end of it. It's like I'm finally seeing the sun after days of darkness.

I hum, "What kind of discount are we talking?"

He smiles even wider, climbing to his feet and dusting off his pants. I do the same, trying my best not to look as desperate as I feel.

I can hear the sound of my own hear beating in my chest like a gong, the blood flowing through my veins like a waterfall. It's deafening.

And I know those pills would help.

The man grins, eyes tracing my body in a way that has my skin crawling. I know what he's going to ask for. I've known it from the moment he opened his mouth.

"I'll give you the whole bag for 20 bucks and a little quality time if you know what I mean." He hums, taking a few steps closer.

I scratch at my neck, tears welling up quicker than I can reason why. It seems a fair trade. It would be a small discomfort with a big payout.

Nothing I haven't experienced before.

So why does the idea make my stomach churn and my fingers cold? I should be used to this by now. Everything comes at a price. If it's something I want, I have to be willing to give up a piece of myself to have it.

My dream costed my freedom, Rumi my innocence, and Touya my life.

It's only fair that my sanity would have a price as well.

I shove the nausea down, digging in my pocket to find the money. A silent agreement to the deal.

The man laughs, unbuttoning his shirt while he holds out a hand for the cash. His fingernails are long and dirty and I can't help but wonder where they've been.

"Nothing below the belt," I grumble, handing over the cash.

He smirks, pocketing the bills and stepping onto my space, "That's okay, honey, your mouth will do just fine."

I grit my teeth, looking away as he gently guides my back against the alley wall. It's rough against my feathers and a strangled whine makes its way out of my throat.

I would detach them if I could, but with my quirk acting up as much as it is, my control of individual feathers is gone. It was one of the many things the commission hated about my quirk. When my wings endured any sort of trauma, I became nothing but a bird.

The man smashes his mouth against mine, greasy lips leaving a disgustingly gritty taste on my tongue, "That's what I like to hear."

He fiddles with one of the plastic baggies, putting a few tablets on his tongue before leaning in to kiss me again. The tablets pass between our mouths easily and I swallow them along with his saliva as he pulls away.

"Those are on the house," he purrs, grabbing my shoulders to shove me down to the ground.

I swallow the nausea churning in my gut as his hands fiddle with the string holding his pants up. My mouth is filled with cotton as I stare. Countless bodies pass through my mind, each one's hands sensually sliding clothing to expose skin. Their hands caress my face, my chest, fingers leaving icy trails I wish I could erase.

The man tips my head back, fingers gentle against my chin before his grip becomes harsh, clamping around my jaw and forcing a thumb between my teeth. His other hand wraps around his dick and my vision goes fuzzy.

My head feels heavy and my heart races. My hands and wings lay limp against my sides. They'll be angry if I resist. They'll send someone worse. It'll be over quick if I just let him do what he wants. It'll be less painful this way.

His grip is bruising on my jaw, forcing his thumb further in. I gag, groaning in pain. My hands, finally regaining enough feeling, grasp at his fingers weakly. My heart jumps to my throat as I realize the quickness of my heartbeat, my lungs barely drawing in enough oxygen to keep up. My vision is still terribly blurred and wet stains my cheeks.

I don't want to do this.

Hana would be so disappointed.

I feel them all over me. Their hands are burning my skin, my feathers screaming in discomfort as their fingers card through roughly. A billion different tastes slide over my tongue, innumerable cries of pleasure filling my ears. I can't remember all of their faces, but I remember the way they felt, fingernails digging into my back, tongue hot against my own. I remember the way they taste, guiding my malleable body into positions I'd never dared try before.

Their words ring in my head as the pills finally started to take effect, the scraping of the brick wall becoming less and less important to my shot nerves.

"You're so pretty."

"Just like that, stay like that."

"Make some fucking noise will you?"

"Stop crying, I know you're enjoying it."

"Close your eyes, it's creepy when you stare at me like that."

"Get the fuck off of him!"

A small wave of something passes through the alley and the man's presence is suddenly gone, replaced with someone new. I close my eyes, shaking my head with a small whine.

I can't handle any more.

"Hey, are you okay? I'm not going to hurt you." A gruff voice asks softly.

A gentle hand wipes my chin and I flinch before settling into the sensation. My eyes stay firmly shut as I try to get my breathing under control, short gasps echoing in my ears.

They continue to wipe around my mouth with what I've now identified as small handkerchief. Their breathing is even and their fingers are gentle. They don't lay hands anywhere else on my body, staying as far away as possible while I regain control.

My head is still fuzzy from a mix of the pills and the adrenaline and I find myself trusting this person more than anyone I've seen in the past day.

"There you go. Just breathe. Are you okay? Can you open your eyes for me?" They murmur.

It sends a warm vibration through my wings, the volume of something not excruciating for once. The pills just dull the effect of my quirk, the sensitivity still enough to hear a pin drop a mile away. But at least my head isn't spinning anymore.

I cringe, blinking away tears as the image of a burly individual slowly fades into focus. They have slight stubble, but their lips are painted a shade of pink and some eyeshadow peeks from under their sunglasses. They offer a pained smile, their crouched position only serving to make them look more muscular.

"My name is Magne, but you can call my Big Sis if you want. Are you hurt?" She asks, eyes sliding over my body.

It's a motion that would usually send waves of discomfort flooding through my body, but when she does it I feel safe. It seems comforting. Like she's worried about me. Like I'm a person that deserves concern instead of an object to be exploited.

I shake my head gently, "I'm sorry." I mumble.

Her eyes widen minutely and her brows furrow, "No, don't you dare apologize. None of this is your fault. I don't care if you were trying to buy drugs, you don't deserve this."

Her voice is strong, sending comforting vibrations through my wings. I can't find it in myself to do much else than stare back at her. No one has ever spoken about me that way. Not since Rumi. I get the sense that they would be good friends, if things were different. Maybe I could introduce them.

"Why did you help me?" I ask, hearing my syllables slur together as my thoughts start to fuzz together again.

She sighs, "Because you needed it, and that guy was a creep anyways. I've been looking for an excuse to bash his brains in."

I just stare at her, not wanting her to leave. I feel strangely attached to her. Maybe it's whatever was in those pills I'd taken, maybe it's because my heteromorph instincts are on the fritz. I try not to read too much into it.

"Do you have somewhere to go? It looks like you need to sleep this off and I don't want to leave you here alone." She scratches at her long brown hair, looking around the alley for any other sign of life.

I shake my head, "Too loud." I murmur, my wings twitching at the reminder of the state they're in.

She gasps slightly, seemingly having just noticed. She reaches out a hand, "I have a place you could go. It's quiet if I can get the assholes to be respectful for once. You're welcome to stay if you'd like."

I bite at my lip, feeling the world sway as if the ground beneath me has transformed into the sea. My awareness is quickly fading, black biting at the edges of my vision as I struggle to stay in control. This stranger has shown me more kindness than I've experienced in days, maybe I could be safe with her.

Or at least safer than anywhere else.

Besides, if she killed me, she'd be saving countless others.

I nod, grasping onto her outstretched hand and letting her guide me home.

Chapter 18: Dabi

Notes:

This chapter took me a surprisingly long time to figure out. I just could not get the characters to cooperate and it felt like there was wayyy too much exposition. I hope I did this meeting justice, even though it's not exactly the one we were waiting for. Hawks will be himself in the next one though, which should have the opposite problem of too much interaction and not enough exposition.

Thank you all so much for putting up with these slow updates and the wild ride that this story has been so far. I still have lots of things planned and I hope you all enjoy!

"... and she's tall, and she's pretty, and she braids my hair, and she's only like my best friend ever." Toga squeals, bouncing on the balls of her feet at the door.

She and Twice had been ranting about how much they adore Magne for the better part of the last 30 minutes. I'm stuck between annoyance at their antics and interest in this new character. It seems as though she fits into the league perfectly.

Based on what they'd said, she has some sort of magnetic quirk which would be incredibly useful for missions. If she could create the right frequency, we could scramble communication devices or wipe electronic data completely. She could be the key we need to taking down the commission entirely.

To getting Keigo back.

"Careful Toga," Compress coos just as heavy footsteps approach the door.

She squeals, grabbing the doorknob and swinging the wood until it knocks against the wall. Spinner makes a disappointed noise at the added dent, but it's quickly overtaken by a booming voice.

"Himiko! Jin! What's shakin'? Come and give me a hug!"

Magne stands in the doorway, her frame covering nearly the entire entrance. Twice and Toga practically leap into her arms, giggling and gushing like schoolgirls at a concert. She plants a kiss stop Toga's head and I'm suddenly struck with the feeling that I should turn away. That they deserve some sort of privacy for such an ... Intimate display.

I feel heat rise to my cheeks, the joy from the three palpable in the air. I turn to see Spinner with a small smile and Mr. Compress's arms crossed over his chest in a pleased manner as they watch the exchange.

The league doesn't have a family of their own. All of it's members have been ostracized in some way and they've all found solace in one another. I think I've done the same without even realizing it. Even with the annoyance still clawing at my throat when I think about Tomura, I miss his presence beside me. Kurogiri's kind advice, Spinner's gruff jokes, Mr. Compress's charming magic tricks, Toga's and Twice's antics. They've all become synonymous with home.

Is that okay? To move on without him.

Does he have someone to call home, himself?

Magne looks back up, releasing a grinning Toga while Twice clings to her side like a magnet. Her eyes pass over me and she offers a smile, "You must be Dabi."

I chuckle, feeling the heat rise back to my cheeks. For once I'm thankful for the thick scar tissue covering my embarrassment. I rub the back of my neck, "Yeah, that's me. I've heard a lot about you, Magne."

She laughs, eyeing the two still fangirling at her feet, "All good things, I hope."

I nod, "Oh, don't worry, you've got some real fans here."

"Family," she supplies, pulling Toga back in under her arm, "They're my family."

It's not unkind, but her words still strike deep inside my chest. It's the intensity with which she defends their relationship that reminds me so much of what I never had. Of what I spent countless nights lying awake dreaming of. What I never felt when I looked at my siblings. What I envied Shouto most for having somehow been born with.

What I'm so scared I'm beginning to feel now.

"You're my family too, y'know. If you stick around, that is. Anyone who can get along with these guys is good enough for me. It's nice to meet you, Dabi. I look forward to getting to know you even better." She says, eyes drifting to the hall just behind me.

I can't help but smile at her words, if only to hold back the tears biting behind my eyes. It reminds me too much of Keigo. It's what I wish I would've said to him all those years ago.

Could something as light as a few words have been heavy enough to change the trajectory of our lives?

"Just the boss man I was looking for," Magne smiles toothily as Shigaraki makes his way back into the room to greet her.

He hums, glancing in my direction briefly before crossing his arms and regarding her with a heavy gaze. He seems somewhat irritated with her presence, but the way he leans slightly more on one leg, knee cocked out in a relaxed fashion, tells me that he's not at all.

"What can I do for you, Magne?" He asks, voice betraying his slight amusement at the sight of Twice suction-cupped to her side.

She glances behind her, turning back to Tomura with a sheepish expression, "I may have found a stray."

She steps out of the way, revealing a figure that has my eyes popping and my breath stuttering like a motorcar out of gas. Tomura's response sounds faraway, as if my ears have been filled with water and my veins with ice.

Loitering in the doorway, Keigo scratches at the back of his neck idly, red wings tucked close to his body. His eyes focused on Twice's masked face with a sort of distant expression twisting his brows.

"Hello." He suddenly says in an exaggerated whisper, leaning forward with eyes wider than I'd ever seen.

Twice cringes backwards, throwing a perturbed expression over his shoulder in my direction. I can't find it in my throat to say anything at all. Any words I could say die in my throat with the pure shock.

He's here.

Why is he here?

I thought he'd be hurt. I thought we'd have to save him. I thought ...

The plans I'd made suddenly feel self-righteous. Who am I to decide he needs saving? I wasn't there for him when he needed it years ago, he doesn't need me now.

The guilt and responsibility gnawing at my ribcage is just a way to nurse my god complex back to health.

I've never been enough to save anyone.

Keigo.

My mother.

My siblings.

Myself.

How could I possibly believe that I was enough now?

Keigo had always been leagues stronger than me, hell, even Shouto at 5 years old was strong enough to defend our mother against our father's terror. I've never been anything more than a coward, running from all my problems and the consequences of my inaction.

But nothing is the same.

I can't do what I wish I'd done years ago because the circumstances are different. Keigo is different.

He doesn't need a savior.

"He took something, I think. From that creep Yuta. He hasn't been really lucid in 20 minutes or so." Magne's voice breaks through the fog in my mind.

I whip my eyes back to her, Tomura had gotten far closer as had Spinner and Compress, all trying to get a peek at the supposed 'stray.'

"Shhhh!" Keigo whisper shouts, finger poised over his lips and brows drawn together.

Magne turns back towards him slightly, softening her body language and tone, "My bad, hun." She whispers back.

I want to run to him. To grab him and hold him close. To tell him everything and how sorry I am for it all.

But I can't.

It was so easy when he was high out of his mind, but now that he's standing on his own, seemingly lucid enough to speak coherently, I find myself without words. Awkwardness clams up my throat as I stare open-mouthed.

How am I supposed to talk to him?

How am I supposed to look at him and admit to what I did?

To who I am?

Keigo smiles, wings ruffling as he turns back to inspecting Twice and Toga.

It's something he would do when I first met him, head cocked slightly to the side with wide, unblinking eyes. The behavior didn't last long though, replaced with anxious scratching and avoiding eye contact. I just thought he'd grown out of it, but maybe the Commission had more to do with it than I initially thought.

Tomura watches the exchange, raising a brow at Magne in a silent question. Magne only grimaces in response, walking further into the entrance. "His wings are all fucked up and he's super sensitive to sound right now. I thought we could let him sleep in the basement?" She grins sheepishly, taking a seat on the sofa.

Keigo follows Magne further into the building, staring at Toga as she shows off her fangs. He opens his own mouth tentatively, fingers slipping between his lips and sliding over teeth. He hesitates over dull canines and a deep sadness seems to settle in his eyes.

I take a step closer to the pair as Twice shuts the door behind them. My heart is in my throat as his eyes slide over in my direction.

Maybe this is my chance to talk to him. To explain. Or maybe he'll be so out of it he can't even hold a proper conversation.

It's like I've swallowed a horde of flies and they're eating me from the inside out, clawing at my windpipe and climbing up my spinal cord until even my eyes buzz with their anticipation.

I've been a fool my entire life. But this is my chance. This is my chance to take the opportunity right in front of me. To grab onto Keigo's hand and never stop running. Leave all my past mistakes behind and finally ... Finally make up for them.

This is my redemption.

If Keigo accepts it.

"Hey pretty bird," I murmur, swimming in the depths of Keigo's radioactive eyes.

He blinks, stepping around Toga to come closer. He shorter than me by several inches, his hair standing up in that messy way it always used to as a kid. He's grown so much stronger, spindly limbs replaced by lean muscle.

I hadn't had the chance to really observe him like this last time we'd met. The situation was too intense. But looking at him now, he's nothing short of ethereal.

Predatory eyes peer at me in curiosity, taking in every inch of my features as I do the same. Moments pass as we examine one another and I wonder if he knows what this means to me. I wonder if he feels the same carbonation in his gut.

"Hello," he whispers, lips dancing over the syllables.

His eyes linger on the staples adorning my face and I think back to when he had been reprimanded for trying to pocket a teacher's pen. He'd admitted to me once how he really liked shiny things. How they made him happy in a way he couldn't explain. I wonder if he feels that way now, or if it's something else the Commission has tainted.

"You ... You remind me of someone," Keigo starts, brows furrowing, "I can't remember who."

My heart leaps once again. He recognizes me. Somewhere deep down in his mind, I'm still that boy that burned up on the mountainside. With untouched skin and eyes that still shone with innocent determination.

Maybe telling him the truth will be easier than I thought.

"Hey Dabi, your bird's getting blood all over the floor. Disgusting! Toga, treat time!" Twice says.

His wings are curled so tightly to his body that it's difficult to see where the damage is, but if he's openly bleeding, it can't be good. I make eye contact with Tomura over his shoulder, carrying a towel between 4 careful fingers. He looks troubled.

Looking back to Keigo I muster up a small smile, "Can I look at your wings, birdie? Are you hurt?"

He frowns slightly, "I don't know. It didn't do this last time."

I swallow down thick dread at his words and focus on the wing he's slowly offering out. The problem makes itself immediately known in the short, stubby ends of his feathers. Every feather in sight, cut short. Some of them drip occasionally, staining his wings an even darker red, matting the fluff together in a congealed mess.

I choke down my worried remarks, carding a gentle finger through. He makes a quiet noise that sounds more like a bird's coo than anything else. I grimace as I separate one of the bleeding feathers from the rest.

"Birdie, who did this to you?" I mutter, still brushing through his wings.

He hums, "I fucked up."

I furrow my brows, sighing as I realize we're probably not going to get much more of an answer when he's like this. I turn to Spinner, hovering behind Magne on the couch.

"Get some flour. I really don't want to pull these if we don't have to." I ask and Spinner turns on his heel immediately.

Magne stares at me with a raised brow as Toga jumps onto the sofa next to her, "He wouldn't let me touch his wings for anything. What's so special about you?"

I look down, not wanting to think about the implications of that. For all Keigo should know, I'm nothing more than a stranger. A dangerous one at that. There's no reason he should trust me to do anything, let alone touch his wings.

I'm struck once again by the feeling that he knows. That he must know deep down who I am.

"What's the flour gonna do?" Spinner asks, holding the bag out to me.

I hum, opening the paper and grabbing a small handful, "It works a little like a clotting agent. Or at least it should. They make a powder specifically for this, but we're doing the best with what we have."

Holding the bleeding feathers between two gentle fingers, I squeeze a handful of flour over the end, making sure to pack a small amount into the shaft.

"Will his wings grow back?" Toga murmurs, her head in Magne's lap.

I nod, holding the flour in place until it's had time to do its job, "They will eventually. He can either pull all the cut feathers to speed up new growth or wait until he sheds all of these. Either way, he won't be flying for a while."

Toga makes a noise of distress as I take my hand away, extra flour falling to the floor. The tip of the flour peeking from the wing shaft is still white. No blood has leaked through. Relief loosens the vice in my chest slightly as I move onto the next feather.

"How do you know all this anyways? Did you used to have a pet bird or something?" Magne asks gruffly.

I frown, locking eyes with Shigaraki over Keigo's shoulder once again. His brows are low, and it feels almost as though he's staring through me. I can't place his expression at all, somewhere between confusion and hurt. He looks like he wants to say something but doesn't quite know how.

"Do you think I can still be a hero?" Keigo asks, voice small.

All at once he becomes young, the drab bar turns to a meadow, and my black hair is white again. We're both talking about our dreams of saving people from the fate we suffered at the hands of those who were supposed to protect. But with a blink it's all back to normal. My choices set in stone, their repercussions playing out in front of me like a funeral choir.

"Everyone knows now." He says, voice straining with emotion, "Fuck, Hana was right."

My throat constricts at his tone, my heart clenching in my chest painfully, "K-Birdie, you didn't do anything wrong."

Keigo whips around, his face contorted in a fury I've never seen. He was always so kind and calm as a child. I felt like I was always boiling with barely-contained anger at my very existence, while he was simply trying to make the best of what he had. I never expected to see myself in him this way.

It looks wrong, like a twisted version of the angel I've spent so many years chasing.

"I let them do whatever the fuck they wanted to me! Hana worked so hard to find that position for me, I can't disappoint her again." He breathes, fingers curling into his hair in upset, "A fucking victim can't save anyone."

The room is thick as we all try to digest his words. They're barely cohesive, the context lost on such an outside perspective. But the emotion is there, nonetheless. He truly believes his hero career is over and that it's his fault.

The Commission stationed him there, though. They embedded him in a known prostitution ring. How could any of that be his own doing?

"Who says you're a victim?" Magne asks, leaning forward and placing his forearms on her knees.

Keigo flounders, turning towards her, wings shuddering with the effort, "E-everyone! The Internet! Rumi fucking saw it."

The name rings a bell from when Toga initially found him. It was the name of the person he begged her not to tell. Was that really the rising Rabbit hero Mr. Compress had described? Weren't they friends? Why would he be so afraid of her finding out?

"Is Rumi not your friend?" Compress mutters.

Keigo's wings droop and his hands fall from his hair, "She was," he mutters, voice becoming scarily devoid of the emotion it was bursting with before, "I think she might hate me now."

Tomura frowns at me and Toga leaps to her feet, "I don't want to taste her blood anymore if she hates you. I bet it's all rotten and sour."

I stifle a small smile at Toga's attempt at comfort, though Keigo seems to relax slightly at the strange verbiage. His wings ripple slightly as he stands at full height, staring at Toga.

"I didn't want her to leave, but I want her to be okay. I want her to be happy." He murmurs quietly.

Toga frowns, tilting her head to the side in a mirror of his own behavior earlier, "But what about you? Why don't you want to do what makes you happy?"

Keigo makes a noise of surprise as his head swivels, making eye contact with every person in the room as he seems to come back to some semblance of himself. The walls around his emotions come slamming back down as he shakes his head with a small chuckle.

"That doesn't matter. Sorry to cut this short, but I'm not feeling very well. I think I'll turn in for the night if that's okay with you all?" His voice sounds almost robotic with the trained charm he's thrown atop the syllables.

If I hadn't heard his earlier outburst, I'd have thought this was as genuine as he got.

But this is just another distorted mask to obscure the man he used to be.

I want so badly to see who he is underneath it.

Will he be the same? Or will he truly have lost all semblance of the Keigo I knew.

Magne hops up from the sofa, leading him away to the basement and leaving the rest of us in a heavy silence. I feel Tomura's presence return beside me, the smell of his hand lotion filling my senses as I finally let the burning tears fall.

It was so much easier when we just needed to free him from the Commission, but there is something so much more sinister at play. He seems to be at war with his own mind, the opinions of those around him becoming divine law while he condemns himself as the devil.

I would be willing to fight anyone for his freedom, for his sanity.

But what am I meant to do when the one keeping him trapped is himself?

How am I supposed to free him from his own mind?

Chapter 19: Hawks

Notes:

This chapter was really fun to write, actually. I hope you guys will enjoy these next few as much as I do!

Whispered speech from somewhere nearby filters through my consciousness as I blink myself back into existence. I sit up on the old mattress and wipe my eyes, trying to take stock of the situation.

The night before is fuzzy, but I remember agreeing to go somewhere. So far, the only soreness in my body can be traced to events I can place. There's nothing new. They didn't take advantage of my vulnerability.

I stretch out a wing gingerly, inspecting the harsh tips with a grimace. I never learned how to care for them like this. I avoided it like the plague. Like if I knew what to do, I was inviting it to happen again.

Looks like that mindset worked out.

The feathers are blunt. Stuck somewhere between their usual softness and the deadly sharpness I hone them to in training. The sensitivity seems to have died down. It's still more heightened than usual, but at least it isn't causing as much pain anymore. It's sort of like if the megaphone of sound was placed several feet away instead of directly in my ear.

It's better.

I card through the dried blood, trying to groom as best I can when a white spot catches my attention. Packed into the shaft of the feather is a thick powder of some sort, the top tinted and the bottom stark white.

It was deliberately placed there as none of the surrounding feathers had suffered the same fate. I didn't hurt or anything either. In fact, that was one of the few feathers that I couldn't feel at all. The powder was acting as a blanket of sorts, covering my overdriven senses in a comforting silence.

It was kindness.

My heartbeat speeds up as I struggle to remember who would've done this. That woman? She had tried to help and I vaguely remember tearing my wings away from her harshly and shouting. Surely she wouldn't have bothered again after that.

But someone else? Who else would've done something just to help me? Surely there's a price.

Surely when I go to leave this place they'll be expecting something from me. And who am I to deny them?

I just hope they're not as dirty as the man in the alley.

Maybe I won't react the same.

Sex has never been important to me. Just a means to an end. A bit of pleasure to forget all the shadows in my mind. But at some point, it became the fuel for those shadows. It became something I dreaded.

But I'm not at the modeling agency anymore.

Surely it can reclaim its place as good again. Surely those few instances haven't tainted the act as a whole.

I'm not broken.

At the sound of more whispering from upstairs, I decide to make my way to the voices. I'll prove it to myself. I'll prove it to Hana.

I climb the steps as quietly as I can, not wanting them to hear my approach. The door at the top is closed, a small sliver of light peeking through at the bottom. My heart clenches slightly, dozens of metal doors slamming in my mind, leaving me nothing but a terrified boy crying on the floor of his cell of a room.

I shake my head, reaching for the handle and trying to steady my nerves. My doors haven't been locked in years. Why am I so afraid of the possibility they are again?

Wrapping my fingers around the smooth metal, I turn the knob until it clicks, releasing the latch and allowing the wood to slide open. The whispering falls silent as soon as the door emits a violent creak.

I hold my breath, hand frozen on the doorknob, a tiny sliver of light illuminating my knuckles in fluorescence. My heart slams against my chest as I wait for something to happen. They must have left the door unlocked on accident. They won't be happy I've overstepped my boundaries.

I wait for the shouting to start.

For the anger.

For the pain.

But it never comes. It's just me frozen in plain sight, suffocating over what-if's.

"You okay in there, Birdie?" A gruff voice murmurs, one I quickly identify as the woman who helped me the night before.

I swallow thickly as I swing the door the rest of the way open. They were waiting for me, of course. My repayment. They don't want to have to ask for it.

"I'm doing great, thanks to you. How'd you know how to do that?" I ask with a crooked smile, painting over the fear with the attractiveness I've perfected.

Relax the eyelids and it creates a comfortable yet sensual expression. Hold one side of a smile higher than the other to portray playfulness. Rub a hand through your hair to signify slight disinterest, but turn your eyes back at just the right moment.

Magne narrows her eyes slightly and shrugs, gesturing to one of the doorways as another person makes themselves known, "I didn't. You've this guy to thank for all that shit."

I scan over the few others in the room as I look to the man loitering in the doorway. There's a schoolgirl and a muttering masked man near Magne while a lizard-type heteromorph sits at the bar at the other corner. None of them seem threatening. None of them seem half as dangerous as the man in the doorway.

Burn scars paint almost every inch of exposed skin, painful and twisted. The flesh seems to be almost held together by rows of staples across his cheeks and who knows where else. He's tall, with a mess of black hair atop his head and striking blue eyes. He stares with furrowed brows, eyes piercing my very soul with their intensity.

I hold the act of nonchalance even though my mouth has run dry.

"Well thank you, then. How'd you learn all that? What is it anyways?" I question, sauntering closer and resting a hand on the back of the sofa behind Magne's head.

His tongue darts across his lips, wetting the ruined flesh in a sort of annoyed nervousness, "Flour. It was all we had."

His reply is short and annoyed, not even answering one of the most prominent questions I had asked. He doesn't want to talk, that much is clear. Or at least, he doesn't want to answer my questions. But he also seems afraid of me, in a way. His feet are angled in a different direction and his shoulders tense. He doesn't make eye contact for longer than absolutely necessary.

"I didn't even know that would work. Good thinking, that's really impressive." I compliment, making sure to coat the syllables in the honey that always seems to have people on their knees.

I continue to stare at the man as he squirms nervously until he finally cracks. His eyes lock onto mine before quickly flicking down in the region of my mouth. All in a moment, he drifts from my eyes, to my lips and lower, trailing nearly my entire body before returning to the wall. He fiddles with the fingers on one hand, trying to hide the obviousness of his intentions.

Maybe he doesn't want the others to see. Maybe he wants privacy? He seems much more gentle and nervous than his appearance suggests. He should want to flaunt what his kindness has given him. He should want everyone in this room to watch how to properly repay such a favor.

Maybe he thinks I won't be comfortable with it. But I've done this before. Hell, I'm sure the Commission has videos I don't even know about, just waiting until the right time to sell them to the highest bidder.

I wonder if they're useless now. If I've tanked the market value beyond repair.

"It wasn't that big of a deal." He mumbles, keeping his eyes focused stubbornly just past my face.

I smile, "It was a big deal to me though, you could've saved my life," I cross the space between us quickly, "It's only fair you get the proper thanks."

As soon as the words leave my lips, I close the distance. I thread one hand through his hair and guide our lips together. The burned flesh feels strange and oddly smooth, but never gritty and dirty like the man in the alley. I swallow the sick feeling in my gut as I let my tongue glide across his lips, trying to get him to respond.

I can do this.

The memories aren't so loud when it's with him.

Intensely warm hands find their way to my chest, pushing to separate our faces. I let it happen easily, letting our lips part as I stare at him with as much lust as I can muster in my eyes. He holds me at arms length, eyes wide as one hand reaches up to wipe his mouth.

"What the fuck?" He spits, eyes not leaving my own for even a second.

He still wants this. This is just his fantasy. I need to play along.

I frown slightly, "I just couldn't help myself. How else am I supposed to thank you?" I question as innocently as I can.

I pull my hand back from his hair, running both hands down his chest to rest on his hips. I would pull myself closer if his hands weren't blocking me.

His hands seem to follow mine, grabbing onto my wrists quickly and roughly and shoving them back against my own chest. The look he gives me is almost panicked, almost fearful. It almost reminds me of myself.

I can't bring myself to process what it might mean. My mind feels like molasses. I have to do this. I have to do this one thing and then I can leave. It's better this way, when my awareness fades to the background and I can hide in the recesses of my brain. I don't have to think. I just wake up on the other side and ignore the bruises and memories that beg to be known.

I let myself slip into the familiar mentality, the nausea sliding away as I do. It comes easily this time, unlike with the man in the alley.

I can do this.

"No, not like that. Fucking stop, okay?" He hisses, eyes still wide and locked onto mine.

Someone rises from the sofa behind me and I catch a glimpse of a few people stepping through the doorway behind him.

Oh.

I see.

I shove myself forward, wrenching my hands from his grip to grab onto his waist, pulling him close with one hand while the other reaches down to palm his dick through his jeans, "Don't worry. We can take turns." I whisper into his ear.

All at once his hands find my chest again, shoving me backwards with enough force to send me reeling. My center of gravity off kilter and without my wings to stabilize, I crash to the ground. Sharp pain echoes up my spine with the impact as my wings flail and I'm yanked back into my own brain.

"I said, stop it!" He shouts, eyes blown wide and shoulders hitched up to his ears.

He's afraid.

He's afraid of me.

Horror seeps through my veins as I stare at him, tears rushing to my eyes as a man with stringy blue hair steps to his shoulder protectively. He holds himself like he's afraid I'm going to take something from him.

Like I'm dangerous.

Like I'm evil.

It makes me sick and I draw into myself in shame. Knees drawn up to my chest and hands clasped over my mouth, "I'm sorry." I whisper.

I messed up. I really messed up.

I never imagined that expression would be mirrored back at me. How could I have done that to him. Would he dream about me the way I dream about them? Would I become the phantom in the back of his mind, whispering and touching in places he'd never wanted.

Does this mean I'm just as monstrous as all of them?

"I'm so sorry." I whimper again, tears escaping as I desperately try to hold them back.

I don't care what they do to me. What the physical pain they'd inflict for such a mistake. What Hana would do when she finds out. His blue eyes blown wide in terror keep echoing in my mind bringing me back to the sickening realization of what I've done.

I'm just as bad as all of them. I deserve everything that they do. I deserve anything they could dream up.

I'd do anything, endure anything if it meant I never had to see that expression on anyone ever again.

The silence stretches on as my sniffles fill the room pathetically. My wings curl around my shoulders slightly as my fingernails tear at the skin on my arms. Why aren't they saying anything? They should be screaming at me. They should be taking their revenge on every inch of my body. But instead they just stare in varying levels of shock and those blue eyes twisted with horror.

Explanation, my disorganized mind supplies. They're waiting on an explanation. That has to be it.

"I thought you... You looked at... I..." I flinch at my own stuttering, knowing I'm only giving them more ammunition, "I'll do whatever you want. Please, I'm sorry."

Pathetic.

Begging for pain like a bitch in heat. What would Hana say if she saw me like this? I wonder if I'd still be fit for her special program or if she'd finally be done with me.

He stares at me with those same wide eyes, but they seem different now. Something unidentifiable swimming in the irises as he scans my body once again.

How could I mistake the action for something else? He was simply assessing me, trying to take notice of body language, just a general human action. There was never any connotation behind it. I was just reading into it.

Is that what I've been doing the whole time?

Have I forced myself into every situation by misinterpretation? Even when I've begged otherwise, was it my own hand pulling the puppet strings?

I clutch at my head, temples suddenly pounding at the realization. My fingers curl into the hair as I shove my face into my knees, wings curling around as protectively as possible in their broken state.

"We're not going to hurt you." A feminine voice mutters from somewhere beside me.

I assume it belongs to the blonde schoolgirl I'd glanced at before and another wave of nausea passes through me. I was planning on doing all of that in front of a minor. I had suggested we bring her into it. God, how evil could one human being be?

"I don't understand," I whine, fingers curling tighter in my tangled hair.

Footsteps pad closer until they come to a stop just in front of me, "Look at me, pretty bird," a gentle voice coos.

I reluctantly raise my head, making eye contact with the blue-eyed man from before. The turquoise is strikingly similar to Touya's, eyes I never thought I'd be able to look into again. Eyes I never thought I'd get to say goodbye to.

"I'm okay. You just startled me is all. You don't have to ... repay me. It was nothing." He hums with a small smile.

I just stare at him, tears feeling sticky on my cheeks, "Is this a test? I ... I don't want to play this game, please."

Kindness always comes at a price. Even Rumi's kindness came at the cost of friendship. It's a price I never minded to pay, but people don't just do things expecting nothing in return. It doesn't make any sense, and I don't want to be penalized for the mind games people always seem to love so much.

His eyebrows twist in some semblance of pain and he shakes his head, "It's not a test. I promise. Here, if you feel like you need to repay me somehow then ... stay with us for another day or so. You don't have to talk to us or do anything else, just hang out."

I squint at him, trying to figure out where the lie is hidden. There's always a misplaced word that reveals true intentions if you poke at it hard enough.

I can't find one.

Does he really just want me to stay? To repay him by taking even more?

It doesn't make any sense.

"Dabi..." The blue-haired man mutters in a warning tone.

That must be his name, the scarred man. Dabi waves the other off and holds out a hand for me to grab onto, "I can take a look at those feathers again too. I've gotten pretty good at first aid."

I frown before taking the outstretched hand and allowing him to help me back to my feet. Nothing about this place makes sense. It doesn't fit into the rules I've drilled into my very soul to get by. There has to be a trick somewhere, a trap.

Kindness doesn't come without strings.

I just hope those strings won't strangle me before I can even make them out.

"Okay," I mumble, "I'll stay."

Chapter 20: Dabi

Notes:

Sorry it's been so long, my word, almost a whole year?? I've been working on this section on and off for a while, but life kept getting in the way. I lost some family and had some of the most difficult courses in my life, but with lots of endings comes lots of new beginnings. And I don't want this story to lose out or get lost in the unfinished works purgatory. So I have plans to complete this work, hopefully without another year long break, and give these guys that ending they deserve.
Thank you so much to anyone who's stuck around for this long, you mean the world.

"I don't understand why your head is so big when your brain is so tiny? There's so much extra space." I mumble, wrapping gauze absentmindedly over my blistered fingers.

"Are you calling me stupid, Touya?" Large yellow eyes peer at me from under messy blonde hair, head cocked ever so slightly and red wings poised high in question.

I sigh, shaking my head and pressing a finger between his eyes, "Yes, Keigo. I'm calling you a dumbass."

He goes cross-eyed momentarily before jutting his lip out in a tiny pout, "Touya!" He whines.

I sigh, shoving a water bottle and a roll of bandages towards him. A small cut on his arm leaks blood passively as he grabs the items, his upset immediately forgotten.

The wrap is tight on my fingers, fried nerves protesting at the constant pressure on the scarred skin. Years have passed since I first met Keigo. I'm stronger, my quirk is stronger. I even beat him in sparring today, something I haven't been able to do in a long time.

I'll show my father how strong I've become.

I'll show him the weapon he created.

Next time we train.

He'll see.

 

Only one of us will leave that peak alive.

 

"Touya? Do you think heaven is real?" Keigo's timid voice speaks, golden eyes downcast, fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the bottle cap.

The question steals my breath momentarily. Death was not a new concept, something I had long ago come to terms with for myself. The idea that my father would one day take it too far and I'd close my eyes for the final time. Swallowed up into the cool darkness of the earth, finally free of the constant heat.

But Keigo?

The kid who'd taken the fall for me when we first met. Who never wanted anything from me but company. I've never heard him wield a negative word against another soul. He wears his heart on his sleeve with all the innocence of a child, but he speaks of people with the wisdom of something much greater.

He believes people are good. That they deserve second chances. That even the greatest evil can be overcome with kindness.

He believes in me.

That my fate isn't already sealed. That I will live to see the outside of those burning walls. That we could live freely together one day.

He shouldn't have to think about death. He's going to live much longer than me. He'll achieve his dreams and make it to the top of the hero charts. He has a future.

"I don't know." I respond, "Doesn't really matter, does it? I definitely won't get in."

He huffs dejectedly in response, cooing softly. I barely catch the quiet sound before he coughs exaggeratedly to cover it up. Now that I think about it, it's been months since I've heard any of his chatter.

I didn't realize how much I missed it.

"Well then what about Hell? Could we find each other there?" He finally looks up at me, eyes full of some twisted kind of hope.

I feel my chest squeeze at the wrongness of it, but I play the awkwardness off with a chuckle "Keigo, you can find me there if you want."

It's a lame answer, but I don't want to say that there's no way we'd both end up in the same place. That he's too good to end up anywhere I am. That we were never meant to be close and that one day this will all end.

Because everything does, eventually.

My father has proven that.

Men like us will never be happy.

The best I can do is try to help Keigo. If I make sure he is allowed to live and bring his warmth to the world, I'll have done something good. It may not be enough to save me, but at least he can experience the things I couldn't.

I jump slightly as Keigo wraps me in a fierce hug, wings puffing up with emotion as he buries his face in my chest. It's almost bittersweet in its sincerity and I hesitate before returning the gesture.

It's warm and kind and I find myself wishing I never had to let go. That I wouldn't have to go back to that peak and train with my father. That I really could get us both out of here.

"Hawks!" An instructor calls from across the room.

It was someone I'd never met before and their displeasure was evident in the scowl scrunching their face. Keigo detaches himself quickly, turning to head obediently in their direction. Before reaching them, he casts a quick glance over his shoulder, smiling brightly and waving.

I watch them both round the corner out of sight, a sinking feeling building in my gut that wouldn't be fully realized until that night.

Until I burned for the sins of my father.

 

***************************************************

 

Keigo sits on a stool in front of me while I pick through his feathers carefully. His posture is stiff and he jolts slightly each time I make contact, curling tighter into himself.

He'd somehow pulled his feet up onto the stool with him, wrapping his arms around and burying his face. His sniffles had died out not too long ago, replaced with gentle, wary breaths.

Its so different from the Keigo of before, the sickly sweet smile and the cocky attitude. The way he knew exactly what buttons to push. The way he was so willing to tear himself in two just to keep us happy.

The look in his eyes, his posture. It's sickening how it echoes the terror of the younger model from before. Tadashi, black skirt splayed all around him, begging for pain, believing himself wholly unworthy of forgiveness.

Keigo was the same.

He had offered himself up, saying it was what I deserved for helping him. That it was his way of saying 'Thank you.'

The idea twists my stomach. How many times had he been forced to 'thank' people before? For basic human decency, no less. A little bit of flour and patience was somehow equivalent to sainthood in his eyes.

What have I done?

Why did I ever leave him there?

it was the most selfish thing I'd ever done, and I don't deserve his forgiveness. Not ever.

I will spend my life making it up to him. I'll make sure he never goes back to that place, never has to apologize or express gratitude ever again. That he just has to live and maybe one day, I'll be lucky enough to see the old Keigo once again. His bright smile and idle chittering. I want it all back.

I want him back.

"So, what should we call you?" Tomura was settled in a chair he'd dragged in from the kitchen, staring intently at the hero.

Keigo flinches almost imperceptibly, feathers jittering beneath my fingers. He turns his head slightly in the direction of the voice, "My name is Hawks."

Tomura frowns, "That's not what your file says."

I turn towards the man, breath rushing from my lungs in alarm and fingers stilling upon rough plumage.

Keigo's shoulders tense as he fixes Tomura with a glare, "You have my file?" He mutters, syllables barely contained under a roiling blanket of fear and rage.

Shigaraki hums, crossing his hands in his lap, adopting the relaxed posture of a man completely assured of his own control, "We do. That's how we found the trafficking ring your own organization placed you in."

Feathers are torn from my grasp as Keigo shifts violently in his seat, facing Tomura head on. He keeps his posture extended, appearing stiff but with a looseness in his muscles that indicates a preparedness to attack. I glance between the two of them with a sinking feeling in my chest. A tussle between these two wouldn't be pretty, even with Keigo at half power.

"It wasn't a trafficking ring. It was just supposed to help my image." He seethes, golden eyes narrowed dangerously.

Shigaraki closes his eyes briefly, Keigo's words confirming everything we'd hoped wasn't true. He wasn't placed there as a mission to take them down from the inside. He was every bit the victim he was terrified to be.

"Is that why Tadashi Yatsudora was there?" Tomura questions, tone lilting downwards, already knowing the answer.

Keigo's anger all but collapses into itself, sharp edges turning inwards on a kamikaze flight to his heart. A ragged inhale leaves wide eyes in it's wake, pleading with Tomura, worry over something entirely out of his control.

"Tadashi ... He was. He knew what to do. They'd been keeping him there for a while. He had his own room." Keigo mutters, always jumping to the defense of others' character.

Shigaraki nods, tilting his head ever so slightly. It's an action that conveys innocent curiosity, gentle attention. "You had your own room too, didn't you?"

Keigo drops his head almost instantly, morose sniffling filling the space once again. He forces out a broken "Yes."

It runs through me like wildfire, rage and sorrow fighting against one another with a force that leaves me breathless. I want to ask him what happened, to hear every detail, but at the same time, I don't want to know. I want him to be able to forget any of this happened. To go back to the way we used to be.

But that can never happen.

The Keigo I knew isn't dead, but he's not the same either. I see him in the way red wings puff up in protection, the way golden eyes stare unblinkingly, the way lean limbs cower in fear. He's still here, just polluted by a thousand memories I wish more than anything I could take. I wish that I could wash him clean of everything, that the smoke from my cremation hadn't stained him too.

"It's not your fault." I supply, lamely, knowing whose fault it is more intimately than ever.

Keigo hiccups pathetically and shakes his head "It's always my fault, don't you understand? I can't control myself. I've never been able to. That's why they cut my wings. So I can't fly. So I have to stay here on the ground and remember what I did- how rotten I am."

My breath leaves my lungs all at once. He believes that? He truly believes that everything is his fault? How long have they been drilling that into him? How far had they gone to make him defend it this way?

It's disgusting.

It makes my stomach turn with injustice.

How could such a bright spark be snuffed out so cruelly? Forced to live under a dim shadow of self doubt.

"You're not rotten, birdie." I choke out, barely able to contain the wobble of emotion.

Tomura hums in agreement, leaning forwards in an act of reassurance, "The only rotten people are those that force people like us to believe that abuse is necessary and justified. You're not weak or disobedient or stupid, you're just human."

Keigo covers his eyes, sniffles turning to quiet whines as the words find their place. It draws the attention of Magne, who watches closely from the doorway. She has grown rather protective of Keigo in just over a day. I guess it's true what Tomura was saying about her bonding fast. Or maybe it's just the effect Keigo has on people. The one I saw in Tadashi that day. The one I see in myself.

I don't know what to call it yet.

"Can we keep him?" Toga calls from the kitchen, Twice's mutters drowned out behind her.

I grimace slightly, looking back to the butchered remains of Keigo's magnificent red wings. Looks like there are more people who share a fondness towards him than I thought.

"I don't want to kill people," Keigo suddenly whispers miserably, still hiding his eyes behind his hands. It's clear we weren't meant to hear the admittance and creates a terrifying set of implications.

I share a look of concern with Tomura before the blue-haired villain pulls out his phone and stands abruptly, stalking away.

"Can I keep brushing out these feathers, pretty bird?" I ask calmly, hoping to help his hiccups subside back into the sniffles of before.

He nods, curling back into himself. There is so much more to Keigo than I could ever imagined, a well of darkness I'd been too blind to notice. At some point, he'd slipped and fallen headfirst into that well and no one had bothered to drag him out.

Maybe if I reach far enough, he can grab onto my hand instead. Maybe we will find each other in hell after all.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of A world of Angst