Chapter Text
May 5th Hawks’ penthouse that is as bare as the day he moved in.
The first call came at 2:14 in the morning. Keigo had barely been asleep for an hour when his phone vibrated across the bedside table. Half-awake, he reached for it with a groan, squinting at the unfamiliar number before answering.
“Takami,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep.
A polite woman introduced herself as a nurse from Musutafu General Hospital. She apologized for calling so late before explaining that they had a patient who had listed him as their emergency contact. The last traces of sleep vanished instantly. He sat upright, rubbing a hand over his face as he asked who the patient was.
“Touya Todoroki,” the nurse replied. Keigo frowned. The name meant absolutely nothing to him. There had to be some mistake, he told her. He didn’t know anyone by that name. The nurse hesitated before explaining that he was the only emergency contact listed on the patient’s paperwork. The patient had been brought in after an explosion and, although he wasn’t in life-threatening condition, the hospital was required to contact someone. Keigo stared blankly at the wall for several seconds. He almost declined.
Instead, less than half an hour later, he found himself standing in the emergency department lobby with two coffees in hand and absolutely no idea why he had come. The patient, Touya, looked equally confused. He sat on the examination bed with fresh bandages wrapped around his forearms, looking more irritated than injured. His turquoise eyes flicked from Keigo to the nurse and back again before settling into a glare.
“I don’t know him,” he said flatly.
The nurse blinked before pointing toward Keigo.
“He’s listed as your emergency contact.”
Touya gave Keigo another once-over, his brow furrowing.
“I’ve never seen this blond bird in my life.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Keigo replied, lifting one shoulder.
After another few minutes of confused questions and increasingly embarrassed apologies from the staff, someone finally discovered the problem.
Two patient files had been entered into the system at the same time years earlier. Somewhere along the way, their emergency contacts had been switched. Nobody had noticed because neither man had ever actually needed one. The paperwork was corrected on the hospital’s end, the nurse assured them.
Touya climbed off the bed with a muttered thanks, brushing past Keigo toward the exit before pausing beside him. His eyes dropped to the untouched coffee cup in Keigo’s hand.
“Were you going to drink that?” he asked. Keigo stared at him in disbelief.
“I bought it because I thought someone I cared about was dying.” Touya considered that for a second before nodding slowly.
“…Fair enough,” he admitted. Then, after another pause, he added, “Can I have it anyway?”
Against all common sense, Keigo laughed. He handed over the coffee without another word.
Three months passed before the phone rang again. Keigo was halfway through a painfully dull Hero Commission meeting when his mobile buzzed in his pocket. He ignored the unknown number the first time. Then it rang again. And again. Excusing himself, he stepped into the corridor and answered with barely concealed annoyance. The same hospital. The same apologetic tone. And, somehow, the same name. Touya Todoroki. Keigo pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I thought you fixed the paperwork,” he said.
“We did,” the nurse replied sheepishly. “Mr. Todoroki… requested that you remain his emergency contact.”
Keigo blinked.
“He what?” The nurse cleared her throat.
“He said—and I apologize for the wording—that ‘the bird’ll probably answer.’”
For several long seconds, Keigo simply stared at the wall. Then, despite every logical instinct telling him not to, he sighed, grabbed his coat, and headed for the hospital anyway.
Touya had broken his arm this time.
Keigo walked into the room to find him looking thoroughly unbothered, balancing a vending machine sandwich on his lap while waiting for discharge papers.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Touya looked up.
“You came.”
“I came because I thought you were dying.” Keigo deadpanned, unamused at being called over a broken arm. Hell, Keigo had flown with broken ribs and still not ended up in a hospital bed.
“I would’ve texted if I was dying.” Dabi joked half-heartedly, feeling regret as he saw how tired Hawks looked. (Yes, he had infact had no idea his emergency contact was second in the freaking hero rankings to his good old dad.
No, he didn’t know this until he was waiting in outpatients, with an arm sling …ordering the nurse to look up his emergency contact who he knew nothing about.)
“You don’t have my number.”
Keigo reminded him curtly, finishing the paperwork and handing it to the nurse. It was impressive how fast he had done it, but again, according to Hawks fan page, he was the fastest hero in Japan. God, Touya cursed his nosiness.
Touya frowned.
“…Good point, I’ll get it off the nurse.”
Despite himself, Keigo helped him out of the hospital, into his battered Honda civic, and drove him home.
Sometime after the fourth admission, Keigo stopped correcting staff when they assumed he was family.
It was easier that way.He would arrive, sign forms, listen to explanations, and find Touya already awake and watching him, amused, like he’d been expected.
Like this was normal.
Like Keigo was normal.
A random night in September Musutafu inpatients department.
“You know,” Touya said one night, voice low under the hospital lights, “you could just change your number.”
Keigo didn’t look up and said, “And you could stop getting injured in increasingly creative ways.”
Touya hummed and muttered, “Fair.”
A pause.
“You won’t change it,” he added.
Keigo finally looked at him and said simply, “No.”
Touya nodded once and said, “Good.”
While Keigo suspected Touya boasted to his friends about how soft the number two hero was, how dumb he was to keep picking Touya up after he had injured himself, the way Touya spoke and made him feel wanted? It was a small comfort he felt when he fell asleep at night. He was wanted as a person, not as a celebrity ..or a weapon.
December 27th Todoroki recording studios. Saturday night game night for the up-and-coming rock band, the League of Villains.
Touya sat at their game table, wincing as Toga and Twice bickered loudly to the right of him. Spinner was watching him closely, and it took everything in Dabi not to up and leave. Shigaraki wasn’t there. He was with Natsuo, Touya’s brother, which Touya found annoyingly ironic, given that he was the calmest person in the League while the rest of them were chaos in human form. For once, he missed his nerdy, gamer best friend.
Touya was mid-story when it started.
“It’s not even complicated,” he said, rolling his shoulder slightly. “I end up in hospital, and he shows up.”
A few heads turned.
“Who?” Toga asked immediately, leaning forward with interest.
Touya exhaled through his nose. “Hawks.”
That alone shifted the tone of the table.
Not alarmed. Just attentive.
Touya didn’t notice—or didn’t care.
“He comes running every time,” he continued lightly. “Doesn’t matter what he’s doing. Work, meetings, whatever. He just appears.”
He tapped his fingers against the counter once.
“It’s basically automatic.”
A beat.
Then Twice perked up. “Like a summon? That’s kinda cool. Is he your pet hero friend?”
Touya let out a short laugh. “Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not making it weird!” Twice insisted loudly. “I’m just saying it sounds like a system! Like—beep boop, hospital alarm, Hawks arrives!”
Toga giggled into her hands. “That’s kind of cute though.”
Touya waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not cute. It’s just… predictable.”
Spinner, who had been quiet up until now, tilted his head slightly.
“Predictable doesn’t really sound like him,” he said.
Touya glanced at him.
Spinner leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees.
“I’ve seen Hawks on the news,” he continued, tone more thoughtful than argumentative. “He doesn’t really strike me as someone who just… runs when called. He’s sharp. Calculated.”
Touya shrugged. “Yeah, well. Not around me.”
Spinner didn’t look convinced.
“That still sounds like a choice,” he said. “Not a reaction.”
Touya’s mouth twitched slightly. “It is a reaction.”
Spinner shook his head once, lightly. “Or you’re just the reason he chooses to react.”
The table went a little quiet at that.
Toga tilted her head. “Spinner, are you defending Hawks?”
Spinner blinked. “I’m not defending him. I’m just saying—”
“He’s defending Hawks,” Twice announced immediately, pointing.
“I’m not—” Spinner started, then sighed. “I’m saying it doesn’t sound like someone being controlled by you.”
Touya leaned back slightly, gaze lazy but a little sharper now.
“I’m not controlling him,” he said.
Spinner nodded once. “Exactly.”
A pause.
Touya added, quieter but still casual, “It’s not like that anyway.”
Toga hummed. “Then what is it like?”
Touya didn’t answer immediately.
He swirled the drink in front of him, watching it instead of them.
“It’s just…” he said after a moment, tone flattening slightly, “he shows up. That’s all.”
Spinner didn’t push, but his expression stayed thoughtful.
“That still sounds like he cares,” he said.
Touya let out a short, almost bored laugh. “No.”
Too fast again.
Twice leaned in. “What if he likes you?”
Touya finally looked up.
“No,” he said flatly. “He doesn’t.”
Toga grinned. “That was fast.”
“It’s obvious,” Touya muttered.
Spinner scratched the back of his neck, still not entirely convinced. “It just doesn’t sound like something Hawks would do for no reason.”
Touya shrugged again, like he was brushing the conversation off now.
“He’s a hero,” he said. “Heroes do things for stupid reasons all the time.”
Twice nodded vigorously. “That’s true! Heroes are always doing dramatic stuff like—‘I must save you!’ and then falling off buildings and stuff.”
Toga giggled.
Spinner didn’t laugh.
He just looked at Touya a little longer than necessary.
“Still,” he said quietly, “sounds like you matter more to him than you’re saying.”
That landed differently.
Touya’s expression didn’t change much.
But the room felt like it tightened anyway.
He leaned back again, gaze drifting away.
“It’s not serious,” he said finally.
Not defensive.
Just final.
Like he was putting a lid on something before it could be looked at too closely.
The conversation moved on after that.
But Spinner didn’t stop watching him for a moment longer than everyone else. And Dabi tried to ignore the memories of Keigo giving him soft smiles, nothing like the cocky smirk he gave the media.
December 28th, Musutafu Hospital at noon. Hawks’ 23rd birthday, and it is plastered all over the news. Except Dabi is too caught up on Spinners remark the night before to even look at social media, so he’s set on being an insolent prick to Hawks. Yikes..
Keigo came in like he always did.
Coffee in one hand, familiar knock against the doorframe, that automatic ease in his shoulders that had become muscle memory over the last few months. And, to Touyas dismay, more upbeat than usual. If he wasn’t trying to distance himself from the Labrador that was Keigo Takami, he might’ve asked why he was so cheerful.
Touya was sitting up in bed, bandages visible beneath a loose hospital shirt, gaze already sharp when it landed on him.
“You should stop coming here,” Touya said immediately.
Keigo paused mid-step. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m serious,” Touya muttered, leaning back against the pillows like the conversation already bored him. “You’ve got work. Pro hero stuff. Actual important things.”
Keigo held up the coffee slightly. “This is important.”
Touya’s mouth twitched, but it didn’t quite become a smile.
“Leave it,” he said instead, looking away. “Go perform for your fans.”
The words weren’t loud.
But they landed oddly anyway.
Keigo’s expression shifted just slightly. “That what you want?”
Touya shrugged. “Just saying.”
A beat of silence stretched.
Then Touya swung his legs off the bed.
“I need the bathroom,” he muttered, already standing. “Don’t break anything with your obnoxious wings while I’m gone.”
Keigo watched him go, then exhaled softly and leaned back against the wall.
The door clicked shut.
And the air in the room changed.
The moment Touya was gone, Enji Todoroki stepped in from the corner of the room like he’d been waiting there the entire time.
Keigo straightened immediately.
He didn’t speak first.
Enji did.
“You need to stop this,” Enji said flatly.
Keigo frowned. “Stop what.”
“This,” Enji replied, gesturing vaguely toward the bathroom door. “Whatever you think this is.”
Keigo’s grip tightened slightly on the coffee.
Enji continued before he could answer.
“He’s manipulating you,” Enji said. “It’s deliberate. Touya has always been… persuasive when he wants something. And right now, he wants attention. Control. A reaction from me.”
Keigo stared at him.
Enji didn’t flinch.
“He’s been talking about you,” Enji added. “Bragging. To people he’s aligned with. That the Number Two hero shows up whenever he calls. That you come running. That it’s entertaining.”
The words didn’t land like information.
They landed like impact.
Keigo went very still.
For a second, he didn’t move at all.
Then he quietly set the coffee down on the nearby counter.
Enji watched him carefully.
“You’re not the first person he’s done this with,” Enji said, voice softening just slightly, as if offering something almost like concern. “But you can still walk away.”
Keigo didn’t respond.
His eyes had gone distant in a way that didn’t belong in a hospital room.
Enji stepped closer and, after a pause, placed a firm but almost… measured hand on Keigo’s shoulder.
“Don’t let him use you to hurt me,” he said quietly.
Keigo blinked once.
His throat moved like he tried to swallow something that didn’t go down.
His eyes glistened, faint but unmistakable.
Not quite tears yet.
But close enough.
Enji’s expression softened in a way that looked practiced, Keigo didn’t notice.
Touya chose that exact moment to walk back in.
The door opened.
Touya stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hands on the edge of his sleeve.
“Why is Endeavour in my—”
He stopped.
His eyes moved immediately.
Keigo stood frozen near the counter.
Enji’s hand was still on his shoulder.
And Keigo’s expression—
Touya didn’t even need the rest of the scene to understand what it looked like.
“What the hell did you say to him?” Touya asked instantly, voice sharp.
Enji withdrew his hand slowly.
“I explained the situation,” he said calmly.
Touya scoffed. “You don’t explain anything. You bulldoze it.”
Enji didn’t rise to it.
Touya’s gaze flicked back to Keigo.
“Hey,” he said, tone shifting slightly. Less sharp. More uneasily. The bird looked woebegone.
“What did he say to you?”
Keigo didn’t answer immediately.
Touya took a step closer.
“Bird,” he tried again, quieter now. “Look at me.”
Keigo did.
And Touya’s expression tightened immediately.
Because Keigo’s lower lip was trembling, like a timid toddler.
Barely noticeable.
But real.
Touya’s voice softened without meaning to. “What did he say?”
Keigo let out a small, shaky breath.
Enji answered instead.
“I told him the truth,” Enji said. “That you’ve been speaking about him like this is a game. That you’ve been using him to get a reaction.”
Touya let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “That’s not—”
Keigo spoke suddenly.
Quiet.
Flat.
“Is it true?” The room went silent.
Touya blinked once.
“What?” he said.
Keigo looked at him properly now.
“Did you say that?” Keigo asked.
Touya’s expression shifted immediately. “No,” he said quickly. “That’s not what I said. That’s not—he’s twisting it.”
Enji gave a small, almost patient sigh. Touya snapped his head toward him. “Of course you eavesdrop on my friends and I. Of course you’re here causing chaos.”
Enji ignored him.
Touya turned back to Keigo, voice tightening.
“I didn’t say it like that,” he said. “I was pissed off, I was joking, I don’t—”
Keigo’s eyes flickered. Just for a second.
And Touya saw it.
The doubt.
That tiny fracture.
It made him stop.
“…Don’t believe him,” Touya said quietly.
Keigo didn’t answer fast enough for the man too fast for his own good.
That was answer enough.
Touya’s jaw tightened.
For a moment, he looked like he might punch Endeavour.
Then he stopped.
His voice went careful instead.
“I don’t care what he said,” Touya muttered. “He always does this.”
Keigo looked at him.
And said nothing, although the way his honey brown eyes glistened with tears made Touya feel as though Keigo had taken one of his feathers and pierced his soul.
Touya exhaled slowly, forcing indifference into his tone.
“Whatever,” he said. “Think what you want, Hawks.”
A pause.
Then, softer, almost dismissive, like Keigo was dispensable to him.
“Don’t let him get in your head.”
Keigo’s eyes flicked away.
That was the moment that Touya realised Hawks had been genuine. He was genuine this whole time. And before Touya could speak, apologise or explain?
Keigo turned. Not angrily. Not dramatic. Just… final.
And walked out.
Touya stood there for a second longer. Then slowly turned to Enji.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, voice low. “That was just cruel.”
Enji adjusted his sleeve, like he had been stained by Keigo and Dabis conversation.“You needed to see the problem,” he replied calmly. “Your pattern of destroying innocent people in a bid to get my attention.”
Touya’s expression darkened. “Do you think I care about you to the extent that I would sacrifice him?” Touyas voice tightened. “That wasn’t a pattern. That was you poisoning him—”
Enji cut him off. “Try get some rest, son.” he said firmly.
Later, Touya stood at the hospital window.
Down below, in the car park, Keigo was walking away. Had he waited in the lobby for Touya to come and explain? Or was he giving hugs to the sick and needy? Saint Keigo.
Enji caught up to him near the exit, handing him a new coffee. Touya mused if he knew Keigos coffee order from their patrols. An iced blonde vanilla latte, with 3 pumps of white chocolate mocha. Endeavour wasn’t the type to remember his rivals coffee order, though. His rival was Hawks.
Touya watched as Enji placed a hand on Keigo’s shoulder again.
This time different.
Slower.
He pulled him in.
A hug, fatherly almost.
Too controlled to be real.
Too careful to be anything but performance.
Keigo didn’t resist. He just stood there. Small against him.
Still.
And Touya, watching from above, didn’t smile. He didn’t move. What the hell did his father want from Keigo?
January comes and goes. Keigo texts him happy birthday and has coffee delivered to his house. Dabi regrets his actions on Hawks’ birthday.
February 15th Fukuoka hospital.
…The first call came at 2:07 a.m.
Touya never heard it.
His phone vibrated somewhere beneath yesterday’s jeans on the bedroom floor, muffled enough that it barely disturbed the quiet apartment. He shifted beneath the blankets, frowned in his sleep, and rolled onto his other side.
By the time the ringing stopped, he was asleep again.
It started a second time less than a minute later.
This one he heard.
Barely.
Touya cracked one eye open and stared blearily into the darkness before blindly reaching over the side of the bed. His fingers found the phone after knocking an empty water bottle onto the floor.
Unknown Number.
He squinted at the screen.
“…Hospital,” he muttered to himself, already pressing decline.
They were probably trying to organise another follow-up appointment after he’d ignored the last one.
Or reminding him about blood work.
Whatever it was, it could wait until morning.
He tossed the phone back onto the mattress, buried his face in the pillow and was asleep again before the screen had gone dark.
The third call came almost immediately.
Not a voicemail.
Not a text.
Another phone call.
Touya groaned into the pillow.
“They’re persistent…”
His thumb hovered over the decline button again.
Then he stopped.
A small knot of unease settled somewhere beneath his ribs.
Hospitals didn’t ring people three times at two in the morning because they’d missed an appointment.
His heartbeat picked up before his thoughts did.
He answered.
“…Hello?”
The woman on the other end sounded apologetic before she’d even introduced herself.
“Mr. Todoroki?”
“…Yeah.”
“I’m very sorry to wake you. My name is Akiyama, I’m calling from Musutafu General Hospital.”
Touya sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from one eye.
“…What’s happened?”
There was a pause.
“I’m calling regarding Mr. Keigo Takami.”
Touya frowned.
“…Pro Hero Hawks?”
“Yes.”
His confusion only deepened.
“What about him?”
The nurse took a careful breath.
“Mr. Takami was brought into our emergency department following tonight’s villain incident. A nearby building partially collapsed during the rescue operation, and he was struck by falling debris.”
Touya blinked.
“…Sorry?”
“We believe he’s sustained a concussion alongside several other injuries. He’s stable, but we’d like his emergency contact to come in.”
For a long moment, Touya simply stared at the opposite wall.
Then he laughed once.
Quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it didn’t make sense.
“…I think you’ve got the wrong person,” he said.
There was a brief silence.
“I’m sorry?”
“Hawks.”
Touya rubbed a hand across his face, trying to wake himself up enough for the conversation to become logical.
“You said Hawks.”
“Yes.”
“The Number Two hero.”
“Yes.”
“The fastest hero in Japan.”
“…Yes.”
Touya frowned harder.
“Buildings don’t hit Hawks.”
The words sounded absurd the moment they left his mouth.
He knew they did.
Buildings hit everyone.
Heroes got hurt every day.
But…
Not Keigo.
Not like that.
Not because he hadn’t been fast enough.
The nurse’s voice softened.
“I’m afraid they did tonight.”
Silence settled between them.
Then, gently, she added, “Mr. Takami listed you as his emergency contact.”
Touya swallowed.
His mouth had gone dry.
Somewhere in the distance he realised he’d started gripping the edge of the mattress hard enough that his knuckles hurt.
“…Is he awake?”
“On and off. The concussion is making him rather confused.”
“And…” Touya’s voice caught for the first time. “…is it bad?”
Another pause.
“We’re optimistic,” the nurse said carefully. “But yes, Mr. Todoroki. He’s very badly injured.”
Touya closed his eyes.
For months , he’d been the one getting these phone calls.
Or rather…
Keigo had.
It had never once occurred to him that one day the hospital might ring for the opposite reason.
“I’ll be there,” he said quietly.
By the time he’d ended the call, he was already pulling on yesterday’s clothes.
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
The drive blurred; he remembered red lights more than roads, the tight ache in his hands locked around the wheel, the way his foot stayed heavier on the accelerator than it should’ve.
He told himself it was just hospital procedure.
Just nothing.
Keigo got hurt, and the thought didn’t fit no matter how many times he tried to force it into place.
Not even when he was already pulling into the hospital parking lot, engine still running too hot.
Fukuoka Hospital Private corridor
The corridor outside the ward was too bright.
Too awake for 2 a.m.
Touya slowed as he approached the room.
There were people outside.
Reporters further down the hall.
And then he saw him.
Endeavour.
Standing near Hawks’ door, speaking in a low, controlled voice to someone holding a recorder.
“…the structure failed during the final stage of the evacuation,” Enji was saying. “Hawks sustained injuries while shielding civilians from falling debris.”
Touya stopped walking.
Just for a second.
Hawks.
Shielding civilians.
Falling debris.
The fastest hero in Japan.
He didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t question.
Didn’t even process it properly.
He just walked past.
Because none of that mattered yet.
Only one thing did.
His Keigo was inside.
Alive and breathing.
That was the only equation his brain would accept.
The room was dim in a way that felt almost temporary, like someone had forgotten to fully let the night out of it.
Touya noticed it the moment he stepped inside.
Not the darkness—hospital rooms always had that controlled half-light—but the way everything was held in suspension. Like even the air had been instructed not to move too much.
Monitors blinked softly in uneven rhythms. Not urgent. Not calm either. Just constant enough to remind him the body in the bed was still being negotiated with.
White sheets were pulled too high, too neat, too controlled for what they were covering. Everything looked arranged to suggest stability, even when stability clearly wasn’t the point.
Keigo lay beneath it.
Bandages wrapped his shoulders and forearms, disappearing under the hospital gown. One wing—heavily dressed, restrained with careful clinical precision—shifted faintly whenever he breathed, like even that motion had to be approved first.
Touya stopped at the doorway.
For a second, he didn’t move further in.
Keigo turned his head.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
His eyes landed somewhere near Touya first, not fully focused, as if the idea of a person arriving hadn’t yet translated into a specific identity.
Then it clicked.
Not gently.
Not gradually.
Just late.
His face broke.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just suddenly, like whatever fragile control he had been holding onto snapped without warning.
And he started crying.
Touya didn’t move immediately.
His body registered it before his mind fully did—Keigo awake, Keigo injured, Keigo crying—but it didn’t resolve into action right away. Just a brief, unnatural stillness at the threshold of the room.
“…Pretty bird?” Touya said quietly.
His voice came out rougher than expected. Low. Controlled, but not fully steady.
Keigo made a sound that didn’t form into words properly.
Then, fractured:
“Why are you here?”
It wasn’t sharp.
It wasn’t even really questioning.
It sounded like confusion that hadn’t caught up to itself yet.
Touya moved then.
Not rushed.
Not hesitant either.
Just straight forward, closing the distance to the bedside in a few steps, like standing still wasn’t an option anymore.
“You called me,” he said simply.
Keigo blinked.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
“I didn’t,” he insisted, but the words didn’t land cleanly. His brows pulled together like he was trying to hold onto a thought that kept slipping away. “I didn’t— I was— I was in the building—”
Touya didn’t argue.
“You did ..Well the nurse did,” he repeated.
Softer this time.
Not correcting him.
Just placing it in the room like something that already existed.
Keigo stared at him for a moment longer, trying to align memory with reality. Failing.
Then his expression folded again.
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately.
Too fast.
Too reflexive.
Like apology was the first stable thing his mind could find.
“You were probably asleep.”
Touya stared at him.
For a second, the situation didn’t feel tragic or dramatic.
It just felt misaligned.
Keigo—injured, wired to machines, crying in a hospital bed at 2 a.m.—still worried about disturbing him.
“…Yeah,” Touya said finally.
Flat. Not correcting him. Not feeding it.
Just letting it exist.
Keigo nodded quickly, as if that resolved something important.
“Sorry,” he repeated, quieter.
Touya pulled a chair closer and sat down beside the bed.
The scrape of the legs against the floor felt too loud in the stillness.
“Don’t apologise,” he muttered, adjusting the blanket near Keigo’s arm without thinking. The motion was small, automatic—something steadier than emotion. “You’re the one hooked up to half the hospital.”
Keigo made a small sound.
Not quite a laugh.
It broke halfway and dissolved into another uneven breath.
He seemed tired, but adamant to stay awake, as though he was trying to remember something important.
“I’ll get you some coffee,” he said quietly.
Not abrupt. Not like an exit. More like a decision made in place, shaped around the fact that Keigo was still there, still breathing, still holding on in a way that didn’t look entirely stable.
Keigo blinked up at him slowly.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Touya didn’t move right away.
He stayed there for a second longer than necessary, as if checking the shape of the room, the steadiness of the monitors, the fact that Keigo’s fingers were still loosely caught around his presence even when his grip wasn’t strong.
His hand shifted slightly on the blanket—an almost absent adjustment, smoothing it near Keigo’s arm the way you might fix something without thinking because it felt wrong not to.
“I’ll be right outside,” Touya added after a beat, softer now. “If you need anything.”
Keigo gave a faint nod.
Barely there.
But it was enough.
Only then did Touya turn.
He didn’t leave in a hurry.
He didn’t look back immediately either.
Just stepped out into the corridor like he wasn’t going anywhere at all, just borrowing a few minutes of air so he didn’t break down at seeing his crush? loved? ..friend so badly damaged.
Endeavour was inside the room when Touya came back.
Touya stopped just outside the door, long enough to hear the conversation.
“I’m sorry I didn’t reach you in time,” he was saying in a fake, meek tone.
“The debris shifted faster than predicted.”
Keigo’s eyes were half-closed, exhausted from the ordeal.
“It’s okay,” he murmured.
Enji reached out, briefly touching the edge of his wing where bandages met exposed feathers—careful, controlled.
“Accident,” he told Keigo firmly, as though Keigo was to collaborate the story. “Nothing more.”
Keigo nodded, already slipping under again.
Touya watched for a second longer than necessary.
Then stepped fully into the room.
Endeavour passed him on the way out without comment.
Neither of them spoke.
Touya just walked to the bed and placed the coffee carefully into Keigo’s hands.
Keigo took a few sips.
His grip loosened almost immediately.
“…Tired,” he mumbled.
Touya huffed softly. “Yeah.”
Within minutes, Keigo’s eyes closed again.
His hand stayed loosely wrapped around Touya’s.
Touya didn’t move it.
Later, when he stepped out for a moment, a nurse caught him in the hallway.
“Mr. Todoroki,” she said quietly.
Touya turned.
She hesitated before speaking again.
“…Please just keep an eye on both of them,” she said carefully.
Touya frowned. “Both?”
She glanced back toward the room.
“Mr. Takami and Endeavour.”
A pause.
“There are burn patterns on his wings that don’t align with falling debris,” she added, voice lower now. “We can’t prove anything. Not with his concussion.”
Touya went still.
The nurse looked uncomfortable.
“I’m not saying it’s intentional,” she said quickly. “I’m just saying… it doesn’t look right.”
Touya didn’t answer.
He just stared at the closed door for a long moment.
Then nodded once.
And went back inside of Keigos room.