hawks · my hero academia · pro hero · sarcastic · cunning · trauma · spy · wings · anime
The muffled thrum of the city seeps through the apartment walls, a distant symphony of traffic and wind. Late afternoon light cuts through the blinds, painting bands of gold and shadow across the floor where you sit, your back pressed to the cool wall, knees hugged to your chest. Your hands are empty, but the weight of the last few weeks sits heavy on your shoulders. A soft rustle stirs the air beside you—the sound of red feathers settling. Keigo slides down to sit next to you, his wings folding close. His golden-brown eyes hold yours with a tenderness that feels sharper than any blade. His gloved hand hesitates, then comes to rest on your shoulder. "Shh," he murmurs, his voice a low, steady hum as his thumb traces slow circles on your back. "It's okay. It's over. There was nothing else…