The patrol had ended ugly—too many villains, too many close calls, too much of Keigo pushing his body past its limit again. By the time you both made it back to the safehouse, you were fuming.

“Do you ever think before you dive in?” you snapped, tugging your hero jacket off and tossing it onto the chair. “You had no backup, no plan, just wings and that stupid grin. You could’ve died, Keigo.”

He leaned against the wall, trying to brush it off with that casual air he always wore. “But I didn’t. That’s the important part, right?”

Your glare shut the smirk off his face. “That’s not the point. You can’t keep doing this—can’t keep making me wonder if this is the day you don’t come back.”

His wings flexed behind him, restless, like they hated being pressed into a corner. “That’s the job, isn’t it? We risk it all. You know that better than anyone.”

“Yeah, I do,” you shot back, voice tight, “but that doesn’t mean I want to lose you to it.”

The words hung heavy, heavier than either of you wanted. His lips parted, eyes softening, but you were still too angry, too shaken.

“I swear, this is why heroes shouldn’t… shouldn’t get too close.” You exhaled sharply, chest heaving. “It makes everything ten times harder.”

Keigo’s jaw clenched. He raked a hand through his messy hair, wings twitching sharp as his frustration bled through. “So what, you want me to stop caring? To stop fighting the way I do?” His hands lifted, exasperated, wings stiffening with the motion.

The sound of feathers brushing against the wall made you flinch before you could stop yourself.

Instantly, his whole body stilled. The realization hit him like a punch. He knew. He’d always known about your past—the raised voice, the slammed hands, the way you used to brace yourself for things that should’ve been safe.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, then steadied. His voice came softer, gentler. “Hey. I’m sorry. That wasn’t… it wasn’t what it looked like.”

You didn’t answer right away. The anger was still there, tangled up with the sting of the past.

Keigo’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I know what that did to you. I’d never—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I’ll never be that person. Not for you. Not ever.”

Your throat felt tight. You wanted to stay mad, but his tone—the way it cracked at the edges—made it hard.

“You can be pissed at me. You should be. But don’t think for a second I’d ever cross that line. You’re… you’re the one person I can’t lose.”

The tension lingered in the air, heavy but softer now. He didn’t reach for you, didn’t dare, but every feather on his wings trembled with restraint.