Keigo had always been your constant. From childhood scraped knees to the chaos of hero work, he was the one person who could make you laugh when everything else felt heavy. But lately, something had shifted between you.

You were different. Colder, more distant.

“Are you really gonna keep doing this?” Keigo asked, his voice low as he leaned against the wall of the agency, arms crossed, golden eyes watching you.

“Doing what?” You didn’t look up, focusing on the mission report in your hands, the words blurring together.

“The pushing. The shutting everyone out. You’re wearing yourself thin, and it’s not just the job.” His wings twitched, agitated.

You felt the familiar prickling frustration. “I’m fine, Keigo. I can handle it.”

“Really?” His gaze softened, but there was a bite to his tone. “Because you look anything but fine. You’re getting angrier. More reckless. This isn’t you.”

A sharp breath escaped your lips, but you didn’t answer. Instead, you turned, walking away.

But Keigo wasn’t done. He followed, his footsteps heavy behind you.

“Look, I’m not trying to lecture you. But you used to talk to me when things got bad. We’d handle it together. Now, I’m just watching you slip further away.”

You stopped in your tracks, the weight of his words sinking in. That was the problem, wasn’t it? You weren’t the same person you used to be.

“I don’t have time for this,” you muttered, your voice hard.

He didn’t stop you, but as you walked off, his voice followed, quiet and tired.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He took off without another word, red feathers scattering in the wind.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure if he’d be waiting for you when the sun rose.