#aaronposting

You were shocked that Touya had gone along with the whole thing. With the amount of support gear he needed to regulate his quirk, you’d have thought his whole existence would have been a lesson on the consequences of Quirk Marriages. Your vision blurred at the edges as the President read you the terms of the agreement. 

The two of you would have a 6-month-long publicity engagement, posing as a real couple. You would do a press circuit starting that next week. The Commission and the Todoroki Agency had drafted answers to common questions that the two of you might be asked, to be practiced immediately. You batted them back and forth with Mera like studying for a test. 

“How did you two meet?” At a Hero Gala. 

Remember to smile. 

“How long have you two been dating?” 2 years, ever since [Hero name] went pro. 

Non-negotiable.

“Why did you hide your relationship from the public?” So we could both focus on our hero careers. 

Give him a kiss, you’re supposed to like each other!

“How did you manage to keep it a secret for this long?” With a lot of help~ 

Non-negotiable. 

“Why take your relationship public now?” Now that we’re both established pros, it’s time to focus on each other. 

So what was it all for? 18 years of your life, stolen away by the Commission, trained to be a weapon. Overshadowed in less than an instant by Hawks. The golden boy. Raised alongside him, taught to hate him, forced to watch him become everything they promised you would be. Everything you withstood, in the end to be discarded. From a prodigy for the HPSC to a playmate for Hawks to a prop for Touya. 

Demoted. 

It was all for nothing. 

Touya was okay once you met him. He wasn’t the purity-obsessed sex freak you had assumed he’d be from the whole arrangement—it was clear he was just as excited about the marriage as you were (which is to say not at all). You had the sense Touya could have pushed back if he wanted, from the stubborn, heated way he dealt with his family and publicity team. 

He never acknowledged it, but you suspected he had kept quiet for your sake. You could see it on his face, the way he read between the lines of the HPSC’s bullshit. You both understood that the consequences for you if he rejected the union, whatever they may be, would be far worse than a loveless marriage. That alone was kind enough. That, and the way he would squeeze your hand, just once, before each interview, muttering, ‘You’re okay’. 

The first few days of the ordeal, the two of you attended meetings together, sat side by side in silence. Not speaking and not spoken to as you both watched Enji and the HPSC debate the rest of your lives. It was easy to glean that the whole thing had been his father's idea. 

Something about Touya’s public image. He was strong and successful, but the media painted him as cocky, defiant—a vigilante as opposed to a hero. In short, unlikable. Enji attributed his plateau as the number four hero to bad press, which is where you came in. 

You would help Touya come off as likable, relatable. Romantic. Fan service. And once that was successful, once his image was stable, you would have kids. Ones that would hopefully be born with the ability to regulate themselves in a way that Touya couldn’t. Good old-fashioned eugenics. Neither of you spoke about that part, silently agreeing that it would be better not to think about it. 

At least you were still allowed to work. The only thing you had been allowed to keep. Work was a saving grace, the best part of your bleak life—something you never thought you’d say.  It was the only thing keeping you sane, the only thing left in your life that you had worked for. And, it kept you busy, away from your face on the tabloids and your voice on the television. 

Away from the lonely home you now shared with Touya, the one that the Commission had moved all of your things into less than 24 hours after the engagement was announced. 

Work, however, came with one downside: Keigo Takami. It didn’t matter that you worked at different agencies. It didn’t matter that he was at least a dozen ranks ahead of you. No matter how hard you tried, with your conjoined past, you couldn’t escape the man. Constantly paired up together on missions, and not just by the HPSC. Every hero in Kamino Ward saw you as something akin to his sidekick, drafting him for assignments with the implication you wouldn’t be far behind. 

Today was no such exception—though at first you’d thought you had managed to evade him. Sat between Mount Lady and Kamui Woods, you nervously eyed the empty seat across the room, counting down every minute until Best Jeanist cleared his throat and began the meeting. 

The sweet relief lasted only a few moments before Hawks sauntered in, equal parts late and unbothered, a steaming cup of to-go coffee in hand from the cafe up the street. 

“No, no, don’t let me interrupt.” He waved his hand dismissively at the stern expression on Best Jeanist’s face. Keigo's eyes flicked to Kamui in the chair beside you before pulling out the only empty seat left. The metal made a loud screeching sound across the floor, punctuating the awkward silence that had settled over the group, but Keigo didn’t seem to notice. 

“As I was saying…” Best Jeanist resumed his thought with one last searing glance in Hawks’ direction. Keigo’s seat was directly across from you, and he waved enthusiastically in your direction, trying to get your attention. You snapped your head to the left, eyes now glued to Best Jeanist, doing your best to ignore Keigo entirely. 

He eventually gave up, if only for a moment, turning his attention ahead with his feet kicked up on the table. What a piece of work. 

The meeting was dry. A strategic planning session to hash out responsibilities for an upcoming raid on an illegal support technology facility. You were used to being brought in on stuff like this. Your thermal regulation quirk often made you an easy failsafe when handling or moving experimental weapons. 

All night, Keigo’s golden eyes returned to you, piercing, relentless, catching yours any time you looked even a little bit forward. You could tell he’d noticed you avoiding him more aggressively than normal. 

Your stuff was shoved into your bag within seconds of the meeting concluding, desperate to avoid Keigo at all costs. You jumped out of your chair with such force that you nearly slammed into Kamui Woods, who had been making small talk with Mount Lady. 

“Shit, sorry, Kamui.” 

“Off in a hurry to see her fiancé, I bet.” Mount Lady teased, waggling her eyebrows obscenely. 

“Hah, yeah. You know.” You laughed, distracted, not fully registering her words as you scanned the room for Keigo. He’d been pulled into a conversation with Best Jeanist. From the taller blonde’s expression, you guessed Keigo was being scolded for arriving late again. The winged man’s eyes were still on you, whatever Best Jeanist was saying in one ear and out the other. 

“That’s right, [y/n], I just heard about your engagement. Congratulations.” Kamui Woods earnestly patted your shoulder with a branched hand, and you did your best to muster a smile. 

“You just heard about it? It’s been all over the news for like, two months! What, do you live under a rock? Under a tree?” Mount Lady chastised him, playfully smacking his shoulder. The front the Commission had bestowed upon you wasn’t just something you had to keep up for news outlets and civilians. 

Everyone needed to think your relationship with Touya was genuine, including your fellow heroes. The whole point was to make Touya more relatable and favorable in the media’s eyes, and Quirk Marriages were neither of those things. The only person who knew the truth was Keigo, and only because the Commission had its claws in him just as deep. 

“I pride myself on my limited screen time.” Kamui shot back, deadly serious in a way that would have made you laugh if you didn’t feel so sick to your stomach. 

“It’s all anyone’s been talking about!” Mount Lady turned to you, nearly bouncing at the chance to talk about it with you, “I don’t blame them either. Touya is a total catch. I can’t believe you guys managed to keep it a secret for so long! I never would have guessed that you two would end up together.” 

She blabbed on over the ringing in your ears, about how lucky you were, how much money the Todorokis had, how she would kill to be you, talking at you, through you. Your eyes locked on Keigo’s, finally. His gaze hadn’t left you all night, and as suspected, he was intently eavesdropping on the conversation you were enduring with a disapproving look. 

His disgusted expression sent you over the edge. You waved your hands weakly to excuse yourself from the conversation, “I’m sorry, I’m not feeling very well,” before turning tail and practically sprinting out of the conference room. 

“See, you scared her off.” You heard Kamui Woods scold Mount Lady behind you. As the door swung shut, the lump in your throat grew so large you feared you might choke. 

You would have felt bad cutting them off if they were your friends in any way, but that was likely the most you had talked to them outside of Hero work in the three years you’d known them. None of them had ever shown any interest in hearing about your life before. 

The only interesting thing about you was him. 

You pressed the down arrow at the entrance of the elevator again and again, more than aware that Keigo would be right behind you. It dinged open and you hurried in, frantically clicking the close button. 

As the elevator doors slid closed, you let out a stuttered sigh and slumped against the wall. A ding sounded out from the elevator, but you hadn’t registered it moving. You noticed the red feather that had wormed its way between the doors too late, unable to fully register that you had begun to cry. Silent tears streamed down your face, and you rubbed them away frantically with the back of your hands. 

The doors slid back open, and Keigo practically floated between them, oozing that perpetual nonchalance. As if he hadn’t practically chased you down like prey to catch the same elevator as you. 

“Thanks for holding the door open for me.” His tone was light, teasing at first, before he noticed your tear-stained cheeks. He looked down at you, head cocked in surprise. “[Y/n]?” You refused to look up at him, refused to even acknowledge that he had spoken. “I was hoping to catch up with you after the meeting, but you rushed off…” He trailed off, unsure of how to handle you blatantly ignoring him. “You, uh… You haven’t been answering my texts.” 

“Maybe you should take the hint, then.” You finally snapped back, not in the mood for whatever this was. This is what he always did—the way he looked at you made you sick. Like he felt sorry for you. He didn’t have the right. Your eyes met his, puffy, watery, but still burning with the same old anger and defiance you regarded him with. 

“Whoa, hey, are you okay?” You glared and pushed past him, shoving him roughly behind you with your shoulder so you could press the unlit ‘Lobby’ button. You were not in the mood for Keigo ever, especially not today. 

“Fuck off.” You spat for good measure, in case he hadn’t gotten the message, and for a moment his mask fell, revealing a flash of hurt across his face. Good. The rest of the elevator ride was spent in silence, as God intended, and the doors slid open to reveal the first floor of the Agency. 

You disembarked, assuming you were out of the woods and free to mope in your prison of a mansion for the rest of the evening.

“Wait.” Keigo grabbed your wrist, pulling you backwards towards him with a rough motion. 

“Ow, let go of me, you asshole!” Your voice was loud, an attempt to sound commanding, and a couple of front desk workers glanced up in surprise. 

“Is he hurting you?” His voice was quiet, low, and his brow crinkled as his golden eyes flitted over yours to study your face. He loosened his grip, but you didn’t pull away, brain feeling fuzzy and skin vibrating from his touch. 

“I– No, of course not! I just, I don’t want to talk about it, Keigo.” 

“I don’t believe you.” Honey eyes bore into yours; you could feel your pulse thudding against his palm. So serious. You laughed darkly at him, at this idea he seemed to have in his head of Touya hitting you. Outside of endless press conferences, you never saw Touya. Alone on opposite ends of your home, he stayed out of your way—he’d probably spoken 50 words to you total since the start of this whole thing. You weren’t sure if it was for your benefit or his, but you were grateful either way. 

“He’s not hurti–”

“Not that. I don’t believe that you don’t want to talk about it.” 

You pulled away from his grasp, but didn’t object when he followed behind you as you walked out the doors, trailing you like a winged puppy. 

“I’m fine.” Your words held less resolve this time around, and like muscle memory, you had slowed your pace, allowing Keigo to walk beside you on the street. Night had fallen during the last of your meetings, and with it the cold had too. 

The two of you walked in silence for a while—you weren’t quite sure where you were going. You had expected he’d get bored by now and leave you be. “You can stop pretending you care about me, okay? I release you.” 

Keigo huffed, a puff of frost visible in the crisp air. 

“Why do you act like that?” You stopped dead in your tracks, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Like what?” 

“Like you hate me.” He sounded quiet, hollowed out, a frown pulling at his lips. There it was again, that slip in composure. It was startling, seeing a glimpse of someone you once knew. The Keigo before you were both molded into Heroes. The Keigo you knew when you were just a kid. It took everything in you to fight the twinge in your heart, the urge to feel bad for him. 

“I do.” 

“You don’t.” His tone was so sure. Not asking you—telling you. You don’t hate me.

But how could you not? When the Commission first brought him in, you had been thrilled. A friend, just for you. Never in your life had you had someone to play with. You’d been inseparable, even into your teen years, pulling all-nighters to dream up your lives together as heroes, falling asleep in the same cot piled up on each other like puppies. 

The shift had been slow, at first. Special training sessions just for him. Shifting your lessons from offensive skills to defensive, building your hero persona as a support role, telling you it was best when you tried to argue your potential. The way they clapped only for him during sparring matches. It became clear when he debuted before you, despite being two years younger. The Commission hadn’t brought you a friend. They’d brought you your replacement. 

“You have no idea what it’s been like for me.” 

Keigo scoffed, loudly, so sharp it came out like a bark. “There is no way you just said that to me.” 

“You think you understand me just because we grew up in the same prison?” 

“Yeah, I fucking do. I think I am the only person in this world who could possibly understand you, actually. And I think you’re the only person who has ever understood me, and you’re fucking abandoning me.” He took a step closer, challenging you. His puffed-out wings made him tower above you despite only being a couple of inches taller. 

There he was. The Keigo you were used to. The one who always found a way to make your suffering about him. Everyone always found a way to make it about him. 

“It is actually impressive how you have managed to make my arranged marriage about you.” 

“You left me behind way, way before this.” 

“I left you behind? Do you hear yourself? You are the number two hero, and I have been sold as an incubator to the Todoroki family.” You mirrored his body language, lunging forward, chest to chest with Keigo. Your fist was raised, almost as though you were about to hit him, daring him to flinch. 

“You’re getting out.” His voice cracked, barely below a yell and ripe with something bitter. Jealousy, you realized with a sick turn of your stomach. No. How could anyone envy this?

“They are throwing me away!” You screamed it, then screamed again, no words, just a roar, finally crumbling, breaking. Saying out loud what you knew was true but were so scared to believe. You wept openly, shame burning like bile up your throat. 

His hands grabbed your shoulders, shaking you. 

“Stop it. Stop talking about yourself like you’re nothing.” 

“You took everything I ever wanted,” you sobbed, clinging to Keigo’s shirt, knuckles white, “you have everything.” 

“I don’t,” he murmured, and you didn’t remember your face being so close to his, his breath fanning across your cheek, cooling the damp tears. “I don’t.” A second time he said it, lips so close they pressed just barely to your own, giving you the space to pull away. 

But you didn’t, you just breathed him in. The way he smelled was so familiar it made you feel nauseous, heart twisting with something, maybe agony. All the things you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel for years, comfort denied by ego and hurt. 

Keigo took it as permission—it was—the two of you slammed your lips together hard in a kiss that was all teeth and need and spite, your arms wrapping roughly around his neck and harshly pulling him closer. His hands slid to your waist, wings moving to shield you instinctively if not a minute too late, forgetting for just a moment who you both were, the consequences you’d both face from making a scene. 

Just as it started, it was over, you ripping away from him, shoving him hard, remembering you were supposed to hate him, you were supposed to marry Touya, you were supposed to be something. You were nothing. You were nothing. 

Keigo looked at you, stunned, mouth agape like he had something to say. He probably did, and you didn’t want to stick around to hear it, so you took off running. You ran as fast as you could, even though you knew it didn’t matter; if Keigo wanted to follow you, he easily could. 

But instead, he stood there frozen, watching you sprint off in the opposite direction of Touya’s house. The one they expected you to call your own. Shell-shocked, nerves on fire, a small smile creeping onto his face despite himself. If nothing else, just for a moment, he had seen you. Not the angry front you put on, not the walls he watched you build up over the last 14 years.

And you had kissed him. Finally. Not so close, not just out of reach. It had been real, your warm lips still lingering as you disappeared from his sight and into the darkness. 

7:42 AM – @HeroTeaDaily

[BREAKING] According to an intimate video leak, Touya Todoroki and his fiancée couldn't wait until after the Hero Gala last night 

7:56 AM – @itsricochet

not even going to lie if touya was my fiancé I'd risk a public indecency charge too. that man is FINE

8:02 AM – @wingedtruth

y'all need to be so for real, that is NOT Touya's voice in that clip lmaoooo

8:04 AM – @itsricochet

HELP not the bathroom moan analysis…. get a job

8:10 AM – @QuirkWatchHQ

Lovebirds or Liability? Touya Todoroki and Fiancée Trending for All the Wrong Reasons. Fans are calling it "the hottest PR nightmare of the year."

8:13 AM – @deuxheroes

the commission is def deleting posts lol you know it's bad when PR is awake before 9 

It was an absolute circus. The video had gone viral overnight, the sounds of you moaning through the bathroom wall broadcast for the entire internet to hear. Posted and reposted countless times by news outlets and gossip accounts. Plastered across tabloid magazines before you'd even woken up that morning, yanked out of shaky, hungover sleep by a stern call from Mera.

Luckily, if you could stomach to call it that, for the most part, the media had chalked it up as nothing more than an embarrassing incident between Touya and his date. You knew you had the Commission to thank for that—they had stepped in quickly to try and control the narrative, steadily burying any speculation or evidence tying the incident back to Keigo. 

You also knew that the Commission could have scrubbed the whole thing clean off the internet before anyone woke up. But instead, they let it serve as punishment, a reminder that any protection the HPSC offered was for their benefit, not yours. 

A warning—for Touya to keep a better eye on you, and for you to behave. 

And for Keigo, it seemed, nothing. You would have thought he came out of the whole thing entirely unscathed if you weren't seated here beside him like two naughty children about to get called one by one into the Principal's Office. You already knew how this would go for him—the same way it had gone ever since the Commission had decided you were no longer valuable, had depreciated your value right in front of your eyes. 

A slap on the wrist for the Golden Boy, a tongue clucked in his direction for letting you distract him. 

And somehow, the worst part wasn't even the embarrassment, or the concoction of accusatory lust and jealousy that continued to brew in your gut towards the winged man beside you. It wasn't even the way that you could feel yourself slipping, slowly losing it. No, the worst part was the way you'd been publicly reduced to nothing more than Touya's fiancée.

Out of the hundreds of articles, the thousands of social media posts, not a single one of them had even bothered to mention you by name. 

8:22 AM – @HeroTimes

Commission Denies Gala Scandal: "A Private Moment Taken Out of Context"

Spokesperson emphasizes that "no other parties were involved."

Without turning to look at you, Keigo reached over to click off your phone. "Reading it won't help." 

"I know." 

He shifted again in his seat, letting his thigh press gently against yours. "I'm sorry." 

"I know," you repeated, staring at your hands, wringing them in your lap.  

"It's going to be okay."

"Yeah, I know." 

The knob of Madame President's office clicked. Before the door swung open, before anyone could see, Keigo looped his fingers with yours. He gave your hand a couple of firm, reassuring squeezes, the way he always did when you were in trouble as kids. His gaze stayed straight ahead, the rest of his body taut, stoically professional, not daring to betray the affection he held.

Just as quickly as he'd taken your hand, he dropped it as Mera stepped out to usher one of you inside to receive your impending lectures. Mera's eyes lingered on you for a moment, falling to the space between the chairs where your hand still hovered, reaching out towards Keigo just slightly. Sharply, you snapped it back into your lap, eyes dropping to the concrete floor. 

With a slight shrug, Mera motioned at Keigo, silently asking him to follow. The sudden absence of him in the chair beside you felt immediate and harsh, leaving you fully alone with your thoughts for the first time this morning. 

Leaving you to slump down in your dull grey chair, to stare at the dull grey walls, then your hand, wondering how it still felt so warm from his touch. Wondering how it would feel to wake up beside him, then wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.

The gravity of the situation began to settle in; you could taste it in the back of your throat, smell it on your own breath. Sickly sweet like rot and decay: the shame, the anger. Yet again, you had let them down. Couldn't even properly play the role of arm candy without fucking it up. Without Keigo fucking it up for you.

For the briefest moment, you wondered if he had done it all on purpose—ruined your life, that is. Turning over every situation in your aching brain, desperate for an explanation, a reason, that your fate had fallen so deeply apart. Finding him, the only constant. Lip wobbling, vacillating between blame and hate and sadness. 

You replayed last night again and again in your mind, looking for something that would prove his guilt, that he had touched you to destroy you. But all that you could conjure was the pained expression he had looked back at you with. You hadn't recognized it then, but you did now. Not pity, like you were used to from him, something tortured. Sorrow. Like you had been torn away from him. 

Bile and alcohol bubbled up in your chest, but you swallowed it down, refusing to throw up. Instead, you hung your head in your hands, pressing the heels of your palms into your eye sockets. Taking shallow breaths in an attempt to soothe the queasy, rocking feeling. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, the room spinning around you, until you felt a hand on your shoulder. His. The touch was so quick you thought you had imagined it until he spoke—

"You're up." 

You looked at Keigo with bleary eyes, blinking rapidly to clear your vision and scanning his face for any clue of what you were in for. He was a blank slate, lips pressed together, still refusing to meet your eye in front of Mera. The older man stood just beyond, holding open the door and eyeing you down with an air of impatience. 

You nodded, though you weren't sure at who, and stood to endure whatever awaited you in Madame President's office. She sat behind her desk with her arms crossed, steely blue eyes so sharp on you that you felt the urge to flinch. Glancing up at the clock behind her, you realized Keigo had only been in here for around 15 minutes. You had the feeling you wouldn't be afforded the same luxury. 

"Please, sit." She spoke it like a request, but you knew it as an order. Everything she'd ever said to you was one, after all. You did as she told, Mera standing just behind her, watching wordlessly. There had once been a time when he showed something akin to care for you. Now, aside from the small frown he wore, it seemed you had long used up any open displays of mercy. 

"Before we begin, I want to make it clear that this is the first and only time we will be cleaning up your mess. The next time you choose to make a public spectacle of yourself, you will be on your own. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, understood." You managed to keep your voice steady, though it came out quieter than you had hoped. She didn't need to say it out loud for you to know what she meant, a confirmation of your deepest suspicion. This Quirk Marriage was the HPSC's last attempt to use you as an asset. Should it not work out, they were more than ready to throw you away entirely. 

It made your head spin, the idea of being all alone, truly, squeezed for every last drop, washed up and forgotten. You numbly nodded along to the remainder of her lecture, only catching bits and pieces, only the parts harsher than your own self-dialogue standing out. 

"Wildly unprofessional-"

"Bringing everyone else down with you-"

"Wasted potential-"

"Selfish-"

"Promiscuous-"

"An embarrassment to the Commission."

"We trust you will adjust your behavior appropriately, yes?" It took you a moment to realize she had asked you a question, eyes hazy and unfocused. Before you fully registered what she had asked, you were nodding, throat dry, and migraine searing. It had been over an hour since you'd first entered her office, and your joints felt stiff,  craving movement.   

"Yes. I'm sorry." Your voice cracked from disuse, and she nearly scoffed. 

"We don't need you to be sorry. We need you to be better." She wanted you to grovel. You always did, too, much to your own disgust. Always did whatever you had to do to end the sinking feeling of worthlessness, to appease them, to receive any shred of approval. And it always made you retch afterwards. Left you feeling dirty, worse than pathetic, begging for scraps. 

"I'll be better." Madame President's eyes flitted over you for a while, studying you, trying to decide if you meant it. If you got it, if you really would be better. 

Finally, she nodded, waving her hand to dismiss you, "Good," before turning to Mera to discuss the ongoing PR clean-up as though you were no longer in the room.

Relief washed over you, shards of something innocent and broken twinging inside of you. You had to resist the urge to interrupt her, to speak again, to thank her for absolving you the way you often did, tearfully, when you were just a child. Instead, in weakly mustered defiance, you just stood to see yourself out. Your knees creaked in protest, legs asleep, clumsy. 

Blood rushed to your head and your feet, intensifying the thrum of your headache. Black spots danced in the edges of your vision for a moment before you stumbled out of Madame President's office, shutting the door a bit too hard behind you. To your surprise, Keigo was still sitting in the waiting area, absentmindedly tapping the heel of his boot against the chair leg, staring at his phone. 

With no scrutinizing eyes on either of you, he now glanced up at you with a smirk, tucking his phone into his pocket. "About time." 

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not a kid, Keigo. You don't need to stick around to console me when I get scolded." 

Despite yourself, though, despite your words, you couldn't help but return a small smile. Worn down from an hour of verbal beration, you supposed you no longer had the energy or heart to face him with bitterness. Or maybe it was just a relief to see someone who didn't regard you with contempt. 

"I know," he grunted as he stood, the rest unsaid but heard; I wanted to. He stretched his arms up over his head, wings following suit, before he extended a hand. "Lemme walk you out." 

"Are you trying to get in trouble again already?" You ignored the offer of his hand, but didn't protest when he walked beside you down the hallway, his footsteps syncing with yours. 

"What, do they expect us to go out of different exits? They called us in at the same time." 

"I think they probably expected you to leave. You know, after you got off easy?" The remark was well-natured, spoken easily like fact, punctuated with amusement. 

But Keigo halted, cocking his head at you, eyebrow raised in a baffled expression. "You think I got off easy?" 

You giggled, couldn't help it, the tension from your encounter with Madame President finally ebbing. He looked especially bird-like with his wide-eyed, perplexed face, so silly you thought he was joking at first. That he couldn't possibly be unaware of the Commission's disparity in treatment by now. When he didn't return your laugh, your face fell, brows crinkling to mirror his. 

The two of you stared each other down, Keigo waiting for an explanation, you waiting for a 'Gotcha', neither yielding, both confused. 

Unable to take much more discomfort in one day, you shrugged, backing down. For once in your life, you were in no mood to argue with him. "I'm just saying, it's not exactly good optics for you to be seen with me right now."  

For a moment, he looked surprised to see you take the path of least resistance, not sure if he should believe it. But when you chose to remain silent, he smiled a bit, eyes once again playful as he resumed his stride down the hall. "No need to worry about me." 

The two of you settled into silence, walking down flight after flight of stairs, ignoring the elevator. Unconsciously deciding in tandem to prolong your walk outside, draw out your separation. Both knowing, without saying, that this would be the last bit of privacy either of you would have with one another. Knowing that things would never be quite the same, that they hadn't been for quite some time. 

With each flight down, you grew closer, arms touching, his wing nearly around you. Your fingers brushed again and again, intentionally, you just as guilty of lingering as him. He paused, leaning against the stairway railing, and you thought he was going to make the mistake of kissing you again, golden eyes meeting yours. 

But then he looked down at the floor, mouth tucking into a hurt little frown. "You really think I got off easy?" 

He must be a masochist. A small flame of resentment ignited in your chest, struggling to grow amidst the damp dejection festering there, but flickering all the same. 

"If you want to get into it, Keigo, then yeah, I do. You always do." You felt so tired. Even your anger was resigned, halved, less mad that he didn't understand, more mad that he couldn't just let you choose silence. That he'd broken the tenderness you had just barely let yourself indulge in. 

"Do you know what I said to them up there?" He sounded just as tired as you, shoulders slumping as he spoke.  

"What? What does that-"  

"I told them it was my fault, [y/n]." 

You blinked at him, stunned, before laughing bitterly. "Yeah, I bet." 

"You think all these years that I've just nodded along when they make you the scapegoat? That I never stuck up for you?" 

"What, do you want me to say thank you?" His words were like gasoline, fueling the contempt you'd tamped down. 

"I don't know, maybe-"

"Do you know what they said to me up there? That the next time I fuck up, they'll throw me to the wolves. The best case scenario for me is fucking Quirk Marraige, and they barely think I'm good enough for that. So my bad for not falling to my knees in gratitude because you tried and failed to protect me." 

“[Y/n]-”

"No, I'm not finished. You get a 15-minute slap on the wrist and I get punished, even more, amidst my entire life that already feels like a punishment, publicly humiliated, berated, because you couldn't keep it in your pants."

"That's my punishment!" He yelled it, voice not angry, only loud, like he knew you would cut him off again. 

You narrowed your eyes, tone mocking, "Not getting to sleep with me? Are you fucking kidding me, Keigo?" 

"Watching you suffer." 

"Oh," It came out as a squeak, the only thing you could manage, blinking at him again and again before bursting into tears. Keigo pulled you quickly into a hug, nestling his face into your neck, rubbing circles into your back as you wept. You felt vindicated, the part of you that had long grown up, crumbling because at least someone saw that you hurt. 

He held you until your sobs turned to sniffles, fingers running through your hair, rocking you gently side to side. Breaking apart from the hug, you cleared your throat, feeling the need to apologize but not knowing how. Eyes to the ground, knowing what would happen if you looked at him now, with vulnerability in your heart. It wasn't good for you to be around him. He broke you down. He made you weak. 

It was only now that you noticed the absence of chiming notifications, the lack of overstimulation that you had been subjected to all morning. 

"I uh, I think I left my phone upstairs." 

Keigo scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Oh. Uh, okay." 

"I'll- I'll be right back." 

Hoping he wouldn't follow, you sprinted up the stairs, chastising yourself the whole way up. Winding yourself through the hallways, feeling smaller, more pathetic once again with each step. Hating the way that Keigo was the only one who saw you. Hating how much power it gave him, hating that he'd witnessed you cry yet again. 

When you arrived, your phone was right where you left it, in the unforgivingly flat seat of the waiting room chair, notifications still flying in at a dizzying pace. Grabbing it, you turned to go back down, to rejoin Keigo, but the President's words rang in your mind. The way they already expected you to make the same mistake again. 

You couldn't prove them right. You refused to. Your self-esteem couldn't take it. 

Emotionally battered and bruised, with tear stains still streaked down your cheeks, you knocked on the closed door of Madame President's office. 

"Come in." She called from the other side, voice curt as always. 

You sheepishly stood in the doorway, not daring to walk inside, frozen in place by her icy stare. "Madame, I'm sorry to interrupt you-" 

"What do you need, [Hero Name]?" 

"I just wanted to say-" Your voice faltered, choking out. Taking in a deep gulp of air, you tried again. "Well, I've been thinking about what you said, and I wanted to ask a favor of you." 

She didn't bother to respond, simply raising an eyebrow, awaiting to hear your request. A dark amusement danced behind her eyes, like she already planned to deny you. 

"I think it would be best if Hawks and I no longer worked missions together." The words came out all at once, like a deflating balloon.

The President stared at you for a while, unreadable, before slowly nodding. Her lips curled up, just ever so slightly, her version of a smile, one you had seen only once or twice in your life. 

"Good choice, [y/n]. We will see what we can do." 

Your heart felt like it was exploding, hearing your name, your real one, hearing that you'd done the right thing, for what felt like the first time in your life. The joy was so searing that it pierced you, a big, shaky, relieved smile splitting across your face. 

"Thank you, thank you," you hiccuped, sobbing, fat tears wetting your eyelashes and blurring your vision, "thank you." 

This time, you took the elevator down, a spring in your step, proud like you'd been given a gold star. Trying not to think of Keigo still waiting for you in the stairwell, confused. Trying not to think at all. It was better that way.

"Need some help with that?" Touya's voice behind you made you jump, fingers once again losing their grip on the impossibly tiny metal clasp of your necklace. 

"Why do you care?" 

"I don't," he shrugged, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, "you're just hogging the mirror." 

"This house is huge. Go find your own mirror." 

Touya ignored you, instead nudging you aside with his elbow to preen himself in the reflection, straightening his tie and running his hands through his hair. Rolling your eyes, you pulled the necklace from your neck and let it clatter onto the dresser. "Whatever. I give up, anyway." 

"Again. Helping hand. Right here." 

"I don't need you to put me out of my misery." 

"Oh?" He barked out a laugh, "Could have fooled me." 

Over the past month, you and Touya had settled into something comfortable with one another, landing between acquaintances and confidants. Awkwardly scooting past each other in the hall turned to idle conversation, if for no other reason than to bitch about the Commission and Enji, respectively. Prolonged, heavy silence outside of interviews gave way to occasional but genuine banter and an air of mutual understanding. 

If it weren't for the circumstances, you could almost imagine the two of you being friends. The nature of your life leading up to the engagement certainly helped as well—after all, it wasn't the first time you'd found yourself in forced proximity with another hero. 

You were more than used to sharing your space, your life, with someone due to circumstances beyond your control. Used to the sickly sweet feeling of being inexplicably tied to another, bound by invisible strings that puppeted you both around. Doomed to complacency, the easiest and only path.

Doomed to coexist alongside yet another arrogant, impulsive, sardonically charming idiot hero, watching the world open up as if it were made for them. Another hero like​​—

Keigo.

The whole thing had you thinking of him more often than you'd like to admit. Every knowing glance Touya threw your way during dull press conferences echoed the way you and Keigo could once speak wordlessly across a room. Rare moments when you'd rest your weight against Touya for just a second, too tired to hold yourself up, reflected in memories of falling asleep on Keigo's shoulder. 

The budding closeness felt like deja vu, a phantom limb. A bond that could only be born from commiseration, a bond you had once shared with him. You thought it might bring you even a shred of satisfaction that it was the golden boy left all alone now, not you. That, after all was said and done, at least you'd still have something that resembled companionship.

But instead, you just felt a sinking sense of guilt. Subtle enough to ignore until it found you lying in bed, wide awake with Keigo's words echoing in your ears. You're abandoning me. No last laugh. Only the sick, slow realization that he was just as fucked as you were. In a way, you had both been replaced.

"Rides here," Touya called from somewhere inside the house, voice echoing off arched ceilings and marble floors. You hadn't even noticed him leave your bedroom, likely bored of watching you wade around in your thoughts and fiddle with your jewelry and hog the mirror.   

You cursed under your breath, checking your makeup in the reflection one last time before grabbing your purse and rushing out of your room. Touya's hand was already on the knob of the front door when you joined him in the foyer, heels clicking against the tile. He had cleaned up nice, you had to admit, with his custom suit and his father's watch and his messy hair slicked back just slightly. 

"Ready?" He asked, not waiting for you to answer, as he swung open the door and slid into the limousine waiting just outside in the winding driveway.

"Let's get this over with." You grumbled, pulling your coat tighter around your form. Pretending not to notice the way the driver had almost slid the car door shut behind Touya, pulling it back open at the last minute so you could get in. You don't belong here.

He had already uncorked the complementary bottle of champagne that had been waiting for you, or rather him, pouring himself a nearly overflowing glass. Usually, you would complain at the way he hadn't offered you any, but your head already ached from imagining the long night that awaited you. 

"Hawks is going to be there," Touya said it casually, between sips of his drink, but the goading glint in his eye was not lost on you. Tolerable as he could be, his self-prescribed cure to the political bore of herodom was pushing everyone's buttons, and you were far from an exception. 

"At the hero gala? For heroes? No way." 

He smirked, pleased by your attempt at deflection. "What's the deal between the two of you, anyway?" 

"There is no deal." Your tone was carefully nonchalant, hoping you could get him to drop it by not playing along, but the words came out too quickly. Defensive.

"Yeah, I'm sure." 

"There is no deal. We were trained together, s'all."

Touya simply raised an eyebrow at you, smiling in that smug way he always did when he knew he was successfully getting a rise out of you. He knocked back the rest of his champagne and quickly poured himself another glass. 

It had been over a month since you and Keigo had spoken, not counting necessary cooperation here and there on missions. Weeks since you'd seen him. He'd been sent abroad for an assignment in the States with Endeavor—arriving back just in time to attend the gala tonight, according to Touya. 

Even after the two of you found out the elevator security camera at Best Jeanist's agency had been busted for longer than either of you had been debuted, there was a pointed—and suddenly mutual—silence between you. 

His usual stream of insistent, overbearing texts had choked off; no 'how are you doings', no 'I'm just worried about yous'. Not even a snarky text when Mount Lady spilled coffee all over herself during a debrief meeting. Nothing. 

Exactly what I wanted, you reminded yourself, something indiscernible twisting in your heart as the limousine rolled to a stop outside the event hall. Touya grimaced, taking a long swig of champagne directly from the bottle, shrugging when you reached your hand out for a turn. 

"S'empty."

"You're a bastard." 

"Yep. Looks like it's show time." He shot you a shit eating grin and tossed the bottle aside, opening his door. The roar of cheering fans overwhelmed your senses almost immediately as you stepped out of the car, looping your arm with Touya's. 

It surprised you how quickly he could turn it on these days, hamming it up for the paparazzi, winking at civilian girls hanging over the barricade. The difference was day and night; your engagement really had done wonders for his public perception. If it hadn't come at the cost of your entire world, you may have felt obliged to hand it to the HPSC.

As the two of you walked towards the entrance, you followed his lead, body easily settling into media mode. Beaming ear to ear, waving, snuggling up to Touya for a photo op you knew would make tabloid news within hours. Stupid fucking bullshit. Up ahead, you saw Endeavor, flames burning tall, and—

A glimpse of red wings. 

Even with due warning, the sight of Keigo nearly froze you where you stood. Your practiced expression dropped, barely, replaced with a microsecond of horror. Despite your quick recovery, Touya caught it, his eyes gleaming with the knowledge you hadn't wanted him to have; he had succeeded in getting under your skin.

He leaned in, glee hardly contained, barely audible over the noise of clamouring cameramen begging for a shot, "Don't forget to smile, [y/n]."

"I need a fucking drink," you growled at him through the clenched teeth of your big, bright grin, making sure to step on the toe of his dress shoe with as much force as you could muster. 

You made a beeline for the bar as soon as you made it into the gala, abandoning Touya to deal with the swarm of journalists waiting to pounce just inside. Retribution in the form of drinking without him. That, and the panicked look that had crossed his face when he realized you'd thrown him to the wolves. 

Don't forget to smile, bitch. 

By the time he managed to catch up with you, you'd downed not one but two martinis, another sloshing around in your hand as you talked animatedly about your latest rescue mission to the half-listening bartender. 

"Oh, hey, babe," You drawled, loud, over the top, pretending not to notice his glare. Touya sternly grabbed your arm without a word, yanking you away from the bar and towards your table despite your protests. 

A whine left your lips, doing your best to keep all of your drink in its glass while stumbling to match his pace. "Jesus, slow down." 

"You're the one who needs to slow down. We haven't even sat down yet, and you're already drunk." 

"I am not drunk," you huffed, "Besides, you're the one who finished an entire bottle of champagne during a 15-minute limo ride." He didn't respond, weaving through the crowd with you barely in tow. As your table came into view, your feet stopped before you could fully process it, heels digging into the ground and pulling Touya roughly to a halt. 

Already seated were Enji and Keigo, chatting idly with their own drinks in hand. Next to them was an empty seat you presumed belonged to Best Jeanist. Keigo's hair was wild as ever, a tie loosely hanging from his neck, his suit jacket unbuttoned. It made you feel flushed and hot, angry—the way he always managed to look so put together without having to try. Touya turned to you, already laughing, low and knowing. 

"What's the matter, huh? We wouldn't want to keep my dear old dad waiting." His teasing words were dripping with subtext—I thought there was no deal? Enji had stood, waving the two of you over. Keigo had followed suit, though his eyes roamed, looking for anything to settle on besides you. 

It should have dawned on you sooner; you'd been to enough of these events to know. Watched how the HPSC grouped the top 10 Heroes together like trophies for the cameras. Watched Keigo there, revered among them, aching from the sidelines.

'Next year,' he'd always say, convinced that one day you'd have a seat beside him. Here you were now, looking back favorably at your time spent as an afterthought. You tipped the martini glass to your lips, swallowing the remainder of the beverage in one long drink before reluctantly following Touya over to the table.

"[Y/n], good to see you." Enji shook your hand firmly, blocking Touya partially from your view as he went over to Keigo, leaning in to say something to him that was too quiet for you to overhear. 

You halfheartedly pacified Enji's small talk, batting responses back and forth without needing to think. Mouth moving automatically in a dance of niceties you'd done a thousand times, your true attention focused behind him. 

Zeroed in on the slight frown that flashed on Keigo's face, the way he glanced up at you for just a moment at Touya's words before quickly looking away again to respond. 

"So, New York, huh?" Touya clapped a hand over his dad's shoulder, reentering the conversation while Keigo stood stiffly off to the side. Golden eyes boring into the Todorokis with a stony expression, staring through you. What had they talked about? You felt suddenly dizzy, nauseous, fake. Like a cardboard cutout of yourself wobbling in the wind. 

Maybe it was the alcohol catching up to you, or the way that Touya, in this moment, was so perfectly playing the prodigal son, performing as someone who didn't roll his eyes at the mere mention of Enji in private. The way that nothing felt real anymore, your entire life culminating into this sorry bastardization of normalcy. 

“[Y/n]?” 

Someone had asked you a question, you realized, Enji and Touya looking at you expectantly, but you had no idea what it had been. The silence was suffocating. Words you hadn't heard hanging in the air, awaiting your response while your heart tried to crawl out of your throat. 

"Sorry," you blurted, desperate for an out, "I just, uh, love this song." You gripped the sleeve of Touya's suit, knuckles white and tugging weakly. "Let's go dance." 

"Right now?" Touya exchanged an indiscernible look with his dad, like there was a joke you weren't in on. Like you were the joke. Your face flushed a bit, mind filling in the blanks: you're being rude, everyone can see you cracking apart, you'll ruin everything, why did they have to stick me with you, stupid, you're nothing-

"I'll dance with you." Keigo's voice cut through the noise, finally looking at you, though now it was you who couldn't meet his eye. He stepped forward, extending his hand out to you. Holding it there patiently as you looked back at Touya, waiting for something: permission, denial, or maybe absolution. 

Touya only shrugged, smirking, the word 'Alright' barely leaving his mouth before Keigo was taking your hand and leading you away. You kept your eyes to the ground, watching his shiny dress shoes guide you to the dancefloor. 

As his arm encircled your waist, bringing you close to him, solid and warm, you finally met his gaze. It was the same as always, comforting. Safe. Lit with affection that had never left. You don't know what you had expected, but it still surprised you. How, even after everything, the way he looked at you had never changed, not once.

"I thought you were ignoring me." You mumbled, your hand sliding to rest tentatively on his shoulder. The quip was meant to come off as coy, but your tone betrayed the question behind the words —the hurt you hadn't known was there. 

Keigo laughed dryly. "You would have had to reach out for me to ignore you." He let the harsh truth of the words hang in the air between you for a few moments before the smallest, well-meaning smile tugged at his lips, "I figured you could use a break from the Todorokis."

"Yeah," despite yourself, you smiled back, relaxing into him, "Thanks." 

"Don't mention it." He murmured back, swaying you in time with the music, the sound of the live orchestra swelling around you. For a moment, you lost yourself in it, in the relief to be near something, anything, that felt familiar. Grounded in the hazy light that always seemed to emanate from Keigo.

"What did Touya say to you back there?" 

"It doesn't matter. He's kind of an asshole, huh?" 

"Eh," you shrugged, chuckling a bit, almost fondly, "He's not. I mean, he is, but he isn't so bad." 

"Do you love him?" 

Your grip on Keigo's shoulder faltered, startled by how suddenly serious he looked. "What?" 

"Do you?" 

You scoffed. "Don't be naive."

He studied your face for a minute before nodding, intensity thawing as soon as it had appeared.  "You know, I always hoped I would get to dance with you at one of these."

Keigo's voice was soft now, almost wistful, and you realized for the first time with clarity how close the two of you were. Noticed how his arms were the only thing holding you up, how easily you could lean up to kiss him. 

"Keigo, I-" 

"I imagined it a little differently, though." His golden gaze flitted from your eyes to your lips again and again. The alcohol from earlier coursed through your veins. Your whole body vibrating from the way that his calloused fingers felt on yours, from the way he fiddled with the gaudy engagement ring the Commission had picked out.

For just a second, you thought he was going to press his lips to yours right then and there. He didn't, though, and you took his hesitation as a sign to push away from him and run. Unsure if you were about to throw up, or cry, or both, you shoved through the crowd, fleeing the dancefloor in search of the bathroom. 

Rounding a corner, you found your ladies' room refuge, slamming through the door and doubling over the counter, panting. Thankfully, it was empty, aside from a woman you didn't recognize. A reporter, maybe, drying her hands and looking at you quizically on her way out. You could hardly pay her any mind. Too focused on tamping down the guttural urge to scream. 

Hands trembling, you turned on the sink to splash water on your face, remembering just in time your carefully applied makeup. With a frustrated groan, you settled instead for slapping your cheeks again and again, the sound rattling in your brain. 

Get it together. Get it together. Get it the fuck together. 

Taking a shaky breath, you practiced a smile in your reflection, noticing the way it didn't quite reach your puffy, watering eyes. You scowled at yourself in the mirror, at the smudge of your eyeliner. At your red, stinging skin, the tortured way your lips pulled down into a silent wail. 

It wasn't supposed to feel like this, like barbed wire in your throat. 

You weren't supposed to feel like this. 

You thought you had learned by now that it was less painful to just pretend you'd never known Keigo at all. 

Acutely aware of the time ticking by, you desperately wiped at the stray tears escaping down your chin with the back of your hand. Touya would be looking for you by now. The press, everyone, would be expecting to see you by his side. As you grabbed a fistful of paper towels to blot your makeup back into place, to clean yourself up before facing the gala once more, you saw it. 

An offering from a merciful god: a half-finished drink. Ice melted, glass sweating onto the counter. You downed it in an instant for courage, grimacing at the watered-down taste of liquor and backwash before bravely marching out of the bathroom and straight into Keigo. 

"Wha-" The sound left your chest, in between a question and a gasp as you stumbled backwards. His hand instinctively darted out to encircle your wrist, steadying you. He seemed just as surprised, staring you down with his head cocked, wings twitching ever so slightly behind him. 

Something about him was different; his posture taut, restrained, almost dangerous. You opened your mouth to speak, but didn't have the chance. His grip on your wrist tightened, tugging you into the private family bathroom across the hall wordlessly before you had time to think.

The door had hardly closed before Keigo's mouth was on yours, one hand in your hair and the other fumbling for the lock. He tasted like alcohol, just as much as you, your breaths mingling between needy kisses. You gripped the collar of his suit jacket tightly, hoping it would keep him from pulling away, aching with the need to anchor him to you. 

You heard the deadbolt click just before his hands gripped your hips, lifting you onto the sink counter and impatiently pressing himself between your thighs. His lips never left yours, groaning into your mouth as your legs curled instinctively around his waist, the fabric of your dress hiking up to reveal bare skin.

Keigo's fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, grinding you roughly against his clothed erection. You knew you needed to stop, that with every passing second, your absence would become more evident than it already was. But for the first time that night, your brain was quiet, the suffocating feeling in your chest quelled by the feeling of Keigo's tongue tracing your bottom lip. 

He drew back, breath hot against your cheek as he pressed sloppy kisses against your jaw, sucking at your neck with an urgency that made your breath hitch. 

"Don't leave marks there, someone will see," you hissed, voice pitching up into a whine at the bite of his teeth. Keigo chuckled against your throat as you tugged weakly on his tie, trying—and failing—to pull his attention away from claiming your skin. 

He looked up at you with half-lidded eyes before his gaze traveled down the neckline of your dress with a smirk. "Fine," he yanked down the fabric in an instant to expose your bare chest, "No one will see 'em here." 

His hands palmed your breasts, rolling your nipples between his fingers, pebbled from the sudden brush of cold air. You opened your mouth to protest, but quickly shut it, biting back a moan as he moved his kisses down, teeth grazing sensitive flesh. 

Spurred on by your gasps, he left a trail of marks down your body, sucking and nipping at the skin there hard enough to make you yelp. Your back arched into his touch, and his arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer as another dark bruise blossomed just above your nipple. 

The edge of the countertop dug into your tailbone, sharp and cold in contrast to the heat pooling in your core. You ground harder, hips pressing into Keigo's, desperate for friction, needing to be closer. A hand raked through his hair, legs wrapping tighter around him as you tugged him back up to your lips. 

"Is there something you want from me, [y/n]?" he teased, voice low and dangerous, words swallowed by a heated kiss. Your tongue slid along the inside of his teeth, your fingers still threaded tightly in his blond locks. As your other hand slid down the dense muscle of his chest, Keigo shuddered beneath you, wings puffing out and head falling into your neck at the feeling of you palming him through his tented slacks. 

"Sh-shit," he growled, rocking against your touch. You stroked him clumsily through the fabric, drinking in the way his jaw clenched as he tried to keep his composure. Smug in the way that you were the one making him fall apart for once, basking in the way that last time you'd seen him, he'd practically begged for this. 

Like he could hear you gloating inside of your head, he hiked your dress up further onto your waist, wasting no time in pulling your panties aside. The bruising kiss he pressed to your mouth did little to muffle your strangled whimpers as he sank two fingers inside of you, curling them at a delicious angle. 

"Fuck, Kei," Your head thudded back into the bathroom mirror, the noise echoing off the walls. Embarrassment fluttered faintly in your stomach at how needy your voice came out, at how good it felt. At how you weren't entirely sure how you'd both ended up here—and how you couldn't bring yourself to care. 

"Shhh…" Keigo brushed a thumb against your lip in warning before sinking to his knees in front of you, fingers still pumping in and out at an unrelenting tempo, thumb rubbing circles into your clit. 

"I always imagined this a little differently, too," he murmured, nipping at the insides of your thighs, drawing a shudder from you. The ache inside you built, chest tightening as his tongue pressed flat against your arousal in slow, torturous laps.

"Oh my god," Your hand flew to your mouth, teeth biting into the fleshy heel of your palm in a futile attempt to stifle your moans, body betraying you, arching eagerly into his touch.

"Hello?" A knock at the door ripped you down to earth, a strangled gasp of surprise and disappointment leaving your lips involuntarily. 

Keigo looked up at you slowly from between your legs, breath still panting against your thigh. His pupils were dark and blown, but his flushed face paled as the knocking continued. His wide eyes darted feverishly between you and the door. Like always, you could nearly read his mind, positive it was chanting the same thing as yours: fuck, fuck, fuck.

“[Y/n]? Is that you in there?" Mount Lady. Impatient as ever, of course, punctuating each word with a rap of her fist. You frantically tugged your dress back into place, breath catching in your throat as the gravity of the situation began to settle in.

Keigo said it aloud this time, a whisper, as he slowly stood, doing his best to control the anxious rustling of his feathers, "Fuck." 

You clamped a hand over his mouth, shooting him a mean look that was nothing short of hypocritical considering how much noise you had been making earlier. One of you needed to say something, anything that would get her to go away, and it couldn't be him. 

After a long pause, all you managed to squeak out was "Uh, yeah, Yu, it's me," voice wobbling awkwardly. 

Keigo shot you an incredulous glance, as if to say, 'That's the best you've got?' You threw up your hands in frustration, but you knew he was right —Not off to a great start. 

"Are you okay in there?" 

"Yeah, yeah. I think I just, uh," You tried to keep your voice even as Keigo helped lower you down from the edge of the sink, careful to not let your heels clack against the tile, "I think I just drank too much." 

Mount Lady laughed, a bit haughty, as though she had no trouble imagining you as someone who couldn't handle their liquor. "Do you need me to come in there and hold back your hair?" 

Keigo frantically shook his head at you, as though he was scared you might actually let her in. Duh, you mouthed at him before responding, "I'm fine, just give me a second."

"Are you sure? Want me to go find Touya?" 

"No!" You yelped, "No, I wouldn't want to bother him. Could you just grab my purse for me? It's on our table." 

"It's fine, I'll just go get him! I'm sure he wouldn't mind~" 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. Your mouth twisted in a silent scream before you hurriedly motioned for Keigo to press himself against the wall, taking in a deep breath before unlocking the barrier between you and social-political ruin. 

"Wait, Yu," You called after her, door open just a crack, your face barely poking out. She turned to look at you, cocking her head quizically. You screwed your expression into the most pitiful version of itself you could manage, something scared and pleading. "He really doesn't like it when I get drunk like this. Can you please just grab my purse for me? I have some nausea medication in there." 

She looked at you for a moment in silence, your pulse throbbing so hard in your temple that it made you feel dizzy as you waited to see if she'd call your bluff. After what felt like hours, a flash of sympathy crossed her face. 

"Yeah, okay. I'll be right back." You internally cheered. She bought it. 

Keigo peered over your head, both of you watching her disappear down the hall before exhaling twin sighs of relief.

With the coast clear, you slipped out of the bathroom, Keigo following close behind. You tugged at your dress, trying to hide the incriminating marks blooming along your skin, and the two of you walked off quickly in opposite directions without a word. It was better that way.

At the last minute, you glanced back—just once, just for a second. Your eyes locked with his for a fleeting moment, and for the first time you could remember, you couldn't quite read the pain behind his gaze.