Keigo stands a few steps ahead, sipping from a can of vending machine coffee. His wings are tucked in, fluffy against his back, and—

You blink. “Your wings look like a heart.”

Keigo glances over his shoulder, confused. “Huh?”

You gesture vaguely. “The way they’re folded. Big heart.”

He shifts slightly, trying to see for himself. Then, with a slow chuckle, he turns back to you, smirking. “Well, that’s a first. Never thought my wings screamed ‘romance.’”

You roll your eyes, adjusting the tools strapped to your side. “They don’t. Just thought it was funny.”

But truthfully, it’s… nice. Something so soft and unguarded about the way his wings naturally settle like that. A quiet reminder that beneath all the sharp remarks and the too-bright grins, Keigo feels things deeply—maybe too deeply.

You’ve seen the sides of him the public doesn’t. The exhaustion in his posture after a mission. The rare, vulnerable moments when he lets himself relax around you.

“Guess that means I’m full of love,” he jokes, nudging your shoulder. “Try not to fall for me.”

You snort. “Please. I work with you, remember?”

He places a dramatic hand over his chest. “Ouch. Brutal.”

Shaking your head, you step ahead. “Come on, Feathers. We’ve got work to do.”

Keigo follows, wings shifting as he falls into step beside you. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s something in the way he walks—lighter, maybe. As if knowing someone sees him, really sees him, makes the weight on his shoulders just a little easier to carry. As you walk, you hear him mumble, just loud enough for you to catch—

“Thanks for noticing.”