Keigo wasn’t one for unnecessary words. You learned that early on. He was charismatic in public—playful, quick-witted—but in private, he preferred the quiet. He appreciated that you understood.

The moment he walked through the door, the weight of the day fell from his shoulders. He shrugged off his coat, wings sagging as he collapsed onto the couch with a quiet sigh. No forced small talk, no exaggerated charm—just the comfort of your presence. You didn’t ask how his day was, and he didn’t feel the need to explain. Instead, you handed him a warm cup of tea. His fingers brushed against yours as he took it, golden eyes soft with silent thanks.

“You good?” you finally asked.

Keigo hummed, setting the cup down before resting his head against your shoulder. “Better now.”

Despite the world knowing him as the fast-talking, ever-smiling Pro Hero, there was a softness to him when it was just the two of you. Here, he didn’t have to be anything but Keigo. Quiet. Thoughtful. Vulnerable.

“Did you eat?”

“Didn’t have time,” he admitted, exhaustion lacing his voice.

With a small shake of your head, you stood up. “Stay there.”

He watched as you disappeared into the kitchen, his eyes following you even as he stretched out on the couch. A smirk tugged at his lips. “What would I do without you?”

“You’d starve, probably,” you teased, placing a plate of food in front of him.

Keigo wasted no time digging in, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Marry me.”

He wouldn’t drag you into the burdens he carried, but in moments like this—when the weight of the world finally slipped from his shoulders—he knew the truth.

Keigo Takami didn’t just need you. He trusted you.