You were used to Hawks being inconsistent.

Not because he didn’t care— but because caring scared him more than any villain ever had.

He wanted to give you stability. He wanted to be the version of himself you deserved. But after the war—after losing everything that once defined him— his life had gone from chaotic to downright unpredictable.

Some days he texted nonstop, calling you just to hear you breathe, showing up at your door with your favorite snacks. Other days, he disappeared into silence, overwhelmed, shutting down behind that empty, casual voice he used to fake being fine.

You understood him. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

Tonight was one of those nights.

You were lying in bed when you heard a soft knock on your balcony door—a sound so gentle you barely caught it.

When you slid it open, Keigo was standing there, hoodie half-zipped, hair messy, breathing like he’d run the whole way.

And with no wings… he really must’ve.

“Babe?” he whispered.

Your heart tightened.

He looked so small without those wings, so breakable—like the world had taken too much from him and he had nothing left to lean on.

Before you could speak, he walked straight up to you, hands gripping your waist like he was scared you’d vanish.

Then he buried his face into your chest.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t suave. He practically collapsed onto you, full weight pressing into you as he sank down onto the bed, head resting right against your cleavage like it was the only place he could breathe.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice muffled and shaking. “I’m so damn sorry.”

Your fingers hovered over his shoulders.

“Keigo… what happened?”

“I got a few hours off,” he whispered. “They said I did great today. They’re proud. They’re giving me a break.”

He exhaled shakily against your skin.

“And all I could think was how shitty I’ve been to you this week.”

You froze.

“You haven’t—”

“Yes I have,” he said instantly, lifting his head just enough for you to see his eyes—glassy, red around the edges, vulnerable in a way he hated being seen.

“I go cold. I shut down. I disappear. And then I pretend I’m fine because I don’t want you to see me like this.” His voice cracked. “But that just makes you feel like I don’t care.”

He swallowed hard, thumb brushing your hip.

“I hate pressure. I hate planning. I hate talking about the future because it scares the shit out of me.” His breath trembled. “Not because I don’t want one with you… because I want it too much.”

You lifted a hand and carded your fingers through his hair.

He melted instantly, eyes half-lidded, leaning into your touch like a starved cat.

“I don’t know how to be steady,” he whispered. “I never had that. I never learned it.”

He pressed his forehead to your collarbone.

“But I’m trying. God, I’m trying for you.”

Your chest tightened painfully.

“Keigo,” you whispered. “Why didn’t you just come here sooner?”

He laughed weakly, breath dragging across your skin.

“Because I thought you’d be tired of me.” His voice was so soft. “I thought you’d wake up one day and realize you deserve someone stable. Someone who doesn’t get overwhelmed and shut down. Someone who isn’t… broken.”

Your hands cupped his cheeks, lifting his face so he had to look at you.

Without wings, without his hero persona, without the mask— Keigo looked heartbreakingly human.

“I’m trying,” he whispered again. “Please don’t give up on me. Please. I know I’m difficult. I know it’s uneven. But I’m working on it, I swear.”

He lifted his head, leaned down, and kissed you—slow and soft at first, then deeper, like the apology seeped into every movement.

Then, slowly, he lowered himself back onto you—his favorite hiding place—resting his face against your chest once more, arms sliding around your waist, holding you like he was afraid you’d slip away.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, kisses brushing the tops of your breasts. “I’m so, so fucking sorry.”