All I Know So Far
Takami Kettie was many things, a murderer, a thief, somewhat of an asshole, somewhat of an alcoholic, perhaps a tad abusive, but an idiot was something he was not. He may be prone to doing stupid things, heâs human, all humans are prone to do stupid things, but he was highly intelligent. As he hides himself in the backroom, listening to those two Suits talk about his son, though Keigo had been unplanned, the brat was still his kid, as though he was some sort of object, âhe has the perfect quirk for heroicsâ and âhe will be well taken care ofâ, yea well taken care of his ass. He doesnât know these two men personally, and he rather he didnât, but he knew how fucked up the Hero Public Safety Commission was, and these two Suits were talking to that whore like they planned on buying the boy.
Purchasing him.
Like he was some sort of product, not a human being, granted a human being he never wanted, but a human being none the less.
Heâll do many things, many shady highly illegal things, but human trafficking is not one of them. This entire conversation heâs overhearing has the tones of a fine print kind of human trafficking.
Kettie may not have wanted a brat of his own, but heâd be damned if he let some bitch sell his son like he was something to grab off the shelf of your local department store, turning away, listening to that bitch tell the two Suits she wanted a night to think about it, he thought quicky, running through a number of possibilities and their outcomes in his head. Kids werenât in any of his future plans, zero of them, absolutely none, but heâd be damned if he sat back and watched one be sold like an object.
What the hell would the Hero Public Safety Commission want a four year old for, nothing good, thatâs for damn sure, they take that boy and that boyâs gonna all but disappear for the next decade.
The winged man didnât want the brat, but then that possessive side of him didnât want any other fuckers to have the brat either, he didnât want the brat, but he was his brat.
âŚ
âLil Wings.â Keigo makes a face at the shaking, it wasnât rough per say, but it sure as hell wasnât gentle. âLil Wings, wake up.â The winged four year old shoots up as his mind finally registers the voice calling out to him, and he flinches back when his eyes meet the burning amber-gold of his fatherâs eyes. Kettie tries not to let the fact that his own flesh and blood bodily flinched back from him affect him, but a twinge of guilt, maybe sadness, surges through his cold murderous heart. âCome on, kid, weâre leavinâ.â
The little blonde stares up at him for a brief moment before nodding, climbing out from under his blankets, leaving the makeshift nest he made himself on the ratty old couch, and just stands there. He pauses, because really, the kid maybe had three shirts and two pairs of pants, heâs not even sure the brat has shoes, Tomie pretended the kid didnât even exist, not even acknowledging his presence, he may not be kind about it most of the time, but at least he did.
Heaving a deep sigh, he curls his hands under the winged bratâs arms, and lifts him up off his feet. Keigo stiffens considerably, and a trait he long since thought he beat down rears itâs ugly head, and he involuntarily coos in a soothing manner, the little menace leans back to look at him in complete utter shock, wide gold eyes, mouth hanging ajar, before he coos back, a responding call to his own.
Suppressing a smile, he ops into glaring at the kid to force him to flinch away, averting his gaze, so he doesnât see it when a small smile curls his lips upwards.
Slipping out into the night, the kidâs arms wrapped around his neck tightly, dirty feathery hair brushing against his cheek, the villain looks down one way and then the other, before opening his wings and bending at the knee, rocketing them into the air.
He didnât want the brat but that didnât mean he wanted other shitheads to have the brat either.
âŚ
I havenât always been this way
I wasnât born a renegade
I felt alone, still feel afraid
I stumble through it anyway
âŚ
Takami Kettie didnât want kids, he has no idea what went through his mind those odd six months ago when he decided he was gonna snatch the winged brat up in the middle of the night and make a runner. See, it wasnât that he didnât like children, as surprising as it might sound, he does like children, they can be snotty little brats, but on the other side of the coin, they can be utterly adorable.
No, it wasnât that he didnât like children that he didnât want kids, it was more so that he didnât want to be the father his father was, his own childhood was horrendous, he wouldnât wish it on his worst enemy. He knows the odds, an abused kid growing up into an abusive parent, he never wanted kids to avoid putting himself in that position.
And then Keigo came along.
He told himself, if for some godfor-fucking-saken reason he did have himself a kid, he wasnât going to be the alcoholic abusive asshole his own old man was.
Kettie finds that he never listens when he tells himself what to do.
The man turned into the one thing he never wanted to turn into, he turned into his own father, drowning himself day and night, and beating on his kid drunkenly, an exact replica of the one person he swore never to be.
Now, he tried not to be soft, for a number of reasons, softness is a disadvantage in his lifestyle, softness getâs you killed, heâs a shark, not a minnow, and sharks werenât soft.
But, god fucking damn, when that brat would look up at him, all wide gold eyes and guarded expression and coo this soft sort of cautious coo (a drawback of avian quirks is the characteristics of their winged brethren), it melted him, melted his frigid heart, softened him like warm butter, and he couldnât stop himself (not that he really tried at this point) from cooing back. Then that little smile, a small little thing, as the kid looked away after his responding coo, looking back down to his stuffed Endeavor toy, and this war hardened villain was practically putty, if the kid werenât so god fucking terrified of him, heâd realize, in those moments, rare and without warning, he was completely wrapped around his grubby little finger.
You shoulda seen it, the first time he gave into the desire (instinct, it was an avian instinct, not a desire, he hadnât wanted to do it, and heâll fucking kill anyone who says otherwise) and lifted the kid into his arms so he could nuzzle him, the bratâs reaction was hilarious, going ramrod straight, wings tensing, feathers fluffing in complete utter shock. Going all wide eyed and slack jawed, staring at him in shocked awe, he stared right back, and the little thing chirped (heâll begrudgingly admit, it was the cutest fucking thing heâs ever heard, second only to that soft little coo the kid would make), he chirped back and went back to nuzzling him.
Kettie nuzzled into the side of the bratâs neck, and froze when he heard them, soft little giggles, he almost thought he was hearing things, so he nuzzled into his neck again, and knew for sure he was hearing soft little giggles after that.
He definitely didnât smile at the sound, definitely not, donât fucking at him.
But, if he continued nuzzling into the kidâs little neck, and those soft little giggles continued floating into his ears, then that was no oneâs business but his own.
âŚ
I wish someone wouldâve told me that this life is ours to choose
No oneâs handing you the keys or a book with all the rules
âŚ
Kettie remembered his father, especially in the dark nights, Keigo sleeping next to him in their single bed, in their single room safe house, in the middle of a maze of alleys, in the middle of a sea of abandoned boarded up buildings, curled up in a ball, curled up in his wings, he never, never, stroked his fingers through those soft baby down feathers. Never.
He remembers his father, the feeling of his belt, the feeling of his feathers being yanked out by the fist full.
Kettie sees himself in Keigo, every cautious glance, every flinch when he makes a sudden movement, every shake of the hands that took the bowl or plate of food from him when it came around to meal times.
History has a tendency to repeat itself.
See, the winged man had an abusive father, thatâs what heâs trying to get across here, he turned out to be exactly like his father, the man he swore never to be.
But his father wasnât his parental figure.
Kettie remembers his grandfather just as much as he remembers his father, his fatherâs father, so different in personality and disposition then his child was, sometimes heâd hear his grandfather ask his grandmother where they had gone wrong to create such a monster, there was no twinge of hurt that theyâd call his father a monster, because it was true, his father had been scarier then the boogeyman.
He remembers how heâd be dropped off at his grandfatherâs doorstep, pushed out of the car, and as the tires would squeal as his father drove away. His grandfather was always there, arms open wide for him to dive into, always talking soft nonsense, telling horrible jokes, as he cleaned up after his fatherâs latest tirade. He remembers being four years old, Keigoâs age, and laying on his grandfatherâs lap, feathers, wiggling fingers, and laughter.
The only time he heard his own childlike laughter was when he was staying with his grandfather, the only time he felt like a child, felt safe to let his guard down, to laugh and play and be a kid, was with his grandfather.
And then his father would come back for him, the laughter would die out, drowned out by the sorrow and the pain and the terror.
Kettie decides, as heâs definitely not stroking his fingers through the featherâs of Keigoâs left wing, and for sure not smiling at the soft purring sound the kid makes, that instead of focusing on the parent he didnât want to be, he should focus on the parent he does want be.
He wasnât his grandfather, no one could be exactly like that old man, but he could be what and who he tried to teach him to be.
That we are not our parents, we are our own, and we are who we choose to be, not who society says we should be.
An abused child doesnât have to be an abusive parent, repeating the cycle over and over again, an abused child can be a good parent. If thatâs who they decide to be.
Kettie never wanted kids, in fear of turning into the man he ended up turning into, but that didnât mean he had to stay that man forever. Change didnât work with a start time and a stop time; it could happen at the drop of the dime.
He wasnât a soft man by nature, his grandfather hadnât been either, he was feared, his grandfather was feared, but his grandfather was soft for him, so maybe, he decides, he can be soft for Keigo.
Itâs not like he had to be soft for anyone else.
âŚ
The little that I know Iâll tell you
When they dress you up in lies and youâre left naked with the truth
âŚ
He watches his son play in the corner of their one room house, playing with his ratty Endeavor plush, lounging in the arm chair, leaning against the left arm rest, resting his head on his hand, sifting through his fondest memories, most of them were with his grandfather, all of them, not most, all of them were with his grandfather. The ones that stuck out the most were the ones where heâd be laying in the old manâs lap, of the feathers and wiggling fingers and his laughter.
Kettie smiles faintly, shaking his head to clear away those thoughts, and pushes himself up from his chair.
Keigo looks up, a flash of fear flashes through his golden orbs, as he approaches him in his corner, cowering into himself as he grows closer and closer. He doesnât say a word, theyâve been in this ramshackle house for nine and a half months, and the brat had yet to utter a single word. He chirped and he cood and he purred and he whimpered but he never spoke.
Lil Wings yelps when he scoops him up off the floor, dropping his Endeavor doll in his surprise at the action, and little hands press against his bicep and chest, wide golden eyes staring at him in surprise. He smiles, it finally happens folks, he smiles at the brat, not a grimace, or a sneer, an actual smile, and turns back around, making his way back to his arm chair.
Flopping back into his chair, he lays the four year old down on his lap, guides his legs back around his waist, holding them there was a few of his feathers. Keigo doesnât struggle, heâs like a ragdoll, staring up at him fearfully, letting him do whatever he pleases to him, he knows, just as much as Kettie knows, struggling only makes it worse. He only stares up at him, with those wide fearful gold eyes, limp as a ragdoll, as he rests his arms at his sides, holding them there with a few more feathers.
The brat tilts his head slightly, and heâll begrudgingly admit, itâs adorable.
âLetâs see what kinda sounds you can make.â The winged four year old doesnât utter a peep as he pushes his little worn shirt up, but those soft giggles return, soft but shrieky, when he starts poking at his chubby belly. âYou know, I donât say this to anyone, but youâre kinda cute, Lil Wings.â Kettie pauses. âLetâs see what this does.â Before clawing his fingers in the kidâs tummy, Keigo squeals brightly, childlike and innocent, arching his back into his fingers as he squeals with laughter, kicking his legs as best as he can behind him, he feels the boyâs legs jerk against his hips. âNow, ainât that fucking adorable.â
He wiggles his index fingers on either side of the bratâs belly button, and Keigo shrieks with laughter, struggling against his feathers, he can feel the intensity of his struggles, and he smiles slightly, he never wanted the brat, but, admittedly, he was pretty cute.
Kettie knew the kid would be a lady killer when he was grown.
He got his looks from his old man after all.
âDahahahahahaddyyy! Dahahahahhahahaddyyy!â
The winged man freezes, fingers poised to claw back into the kidâs chubby belly and stares down at the pure gold eyes staring up at him, finding himself smiling at the bratâs smile. âWhatâd you just say, brat?â
Keigo giggles softly. âDahahaddy!â
âDaddy, huh?â He wiggles his fingers into the boyâs belly lightly and the child giggles harder. âYou think Iâm your daddy, do ya?â Kettie shrugs and bobs his head. âI guess I am, ainât I, I guess I am your daddy.â He claws his fingers back in and Keigo jolts, jumping, squealing with laughter as he arches his back again. âSurprisingly, I think Iâm alâight with that.â
âŚ
You throw your head back
And you spit in the wind
Let the walls crack
âCause it lets the light in
Let âem drag you through hell
They canât tell you to change who you are
Thatâs all I know so far
âŚ
Kettie watches as the plate falls from the four year oldâs shaking hands, though theyâve grown passed the fear just a tad since he decided to play with the bratâs tummy (heâs gonna do it again sometime), as it falls to the floor and shatters, food spilling out everywhere.
Keigo drops to his knees quickly, picking up the pieces of broken ceramic, trying to be quirk, cutting his hands and fingers up in the process, blood mixing with pasta sauce.
âLil Wings.â Squatting, he holds his hands out, calling in the softest voice he can muster, he hopes itâs soft, though they literally only had two plates and they had to ration their food, he didnât want the boy to think he was angry (he wasâbut he wasnât his fatherâaccidents happenâaccidents happen and thatâs okay) at him. The boy ignores him, tears splashing down onto the mess under him as he tries to clean it up. âKeigo.â He curls his fingers around those small hands, slick with pasta sauce and blood, and pulls them away from the mess on the floor. The winged childâs head snaps up, terrified soaked gold eyes staring up at him, biting his lip harshly, trying to be as silent as the night around them. âItâs okay.â Neither one of them move and Kettie nods. âItâs okay, Lil Wings, itâs okay. Iâm not mad. Itâs okay.â
Keigo chews on his lip for a tense moment. âDâDaddy?â
The winged villain nods again. âItâs okay, Lil Wings, accidents happen, donât worry about it.â He lets go of the four year oldâs hands and curls his fingers under his arms, lifting him off the floor as he stands, turning to seat him on the counter. âLetâs check your hands out.â
Kettie wets a hand towel and wipes the kidâs hands off as gently as he can, heâs not a gentle creature by nature, but he decides he can be gentle when it comes to Keigoâhis son. Keigoâs hands are pretty savaged, covered in cuts and slices. âThatâs not too bad, they might scar, but scars make you tough lookinâ.â Tossing the wet towel on the counter, he opens the cupboard under the sink, and pulls out a first aide kit. Setting it down next to the brat on the counter, he flips it open and riffles through itâs contents for a few alcohol wipes and drops a few of them on the counter when he finds them. âThis might sting, Lil Wings, Iâll be quick.â
Keigo nods, chewing on his lip, watching as his daddy tears open one of the wipe packets, inhaling, whining softly, when he rubs his left hand, down his fingers, it burns, and he doesnât like it. Heâs used to pain, to hurting, but he hasnât hurt in a long time, since they came to this little one room house, and he didnât miss it.
The winged man tosses the red tinted wipes into the sink and riffles through the first aide kit for some bandages, wrapping them around the four year olds hands snugly, tearing the end to tie it in place. âThere, weâre good now, problem solved.â Kettie lifts the four year old back up into his arms, resting him on one arm, he grabs his plate off the counter, and steps over the mess on the floor as he makes his way to the table. âIâll feed you squirt, canât go hungry, how else am I gonna be able to play with a chubby tummy if you donât eat?â
âŚ
And when the stormâs out
Youâll run in the rain
Put your sword down
Dive right into the pain
Stay unfiltered and loud
Youâll be proud of that skin full of scars
âŚ
Kettie keeps the boy behind him, away from the hero in their doorway, door busted in, eyes burning red. âDonât you heroes know how to knock before enterinâ?â
âHand over the kid and come peacefully.â Eraserhead growls lowly, capture weapon floating around him like a snake swims through water. âYou kidnapped your own son.â
âI saved my own son.â The winged villain snarls back. âThose Suits were gonna take him and do god knows fucking what to him, all because he saved those people, I may not be a saint, but Iâm not gonna let someone buy my Lil Wings like heâs some kinda object.â Kettie curls his fingers slightly when he feels little fingers curl around his as Keigo peers out from around his leg. âHeâs four fucking years old. He donâ need to train to be a hero. Letâem be a kid while he still can.â
The underground hero doesnât lower his guard, but he does falter, eyes shifting from the villain to the boy hiding behind him, clutching his scarred hand tightly. âKeigo, right?â The winged child nods hesitantly. âAre you safe, kid, is he hurting you, is he making you stay here against your will?â Keigo chews on his lip nervously and shakes his head. Eraserhead eyes the two birds for a long moment before reaching up to tap his ear piece, Kettieâs eyes widen in surprise when the man speaks, neither one of their locked gazes wavering. âTheyâre not here, check the next block.â
A confirmation rings softly through the ear piece, itâs only because of his enhanced hearing that Kettie can hear it, and he stares, shocked, at the hero.
The eraser hero glances at the kid again, looking for any sign of distress, of the tall tell signs heâs being held captive, that heâs unsafe with this man. All he sees is a four year old, looking completely normal, small hands clutching at the large scarred one, little red wings quivering fearfully, and the chubby belly all four year oldâs have, well fed, clean, and happy.
He lifts his gaze up to meet the villains again and reaches into his pocket, pulling out and holding out a small card to the man, Kettie raises an eyebrow but reaches out to snag it from the heroâs fingers. âIf you need help, call that number, itâs my phone, Iâll do what I can.â
The murderer nods, tucking the small card into his pocket. âThanks for not turning us in.â
Eraserheadâs eyes flick back down to the child for a moment. âHeâs not in danger, I see no reason to take him from his parent.â
âŚ
Thatâs all I know so far
Thatâs all I know so far
âŚ
âIâm gonna get you, Lil Wings.â Kettie taunts as he wanders through the maze of alleys Keigo knows to stay within, sharp ears listening for any out of place noises, feathers ruffling with the breeze that flows down the alley heâs in. âIâm gonna get you.â
His head turns sharply when he hears it, the soft giggles, and he smiles slightly, turning in that direction, moving silently, a night stalker, a prowler, an alley cat (get it), following the soft giggles to a large cardboard box, flaps pulls closed.
The winged man leans over slightly, long feathery blonde hair falling over his shoulder as he does, grinning at the small foot he sees. Stepping to the right, he keeps just outside the angle of the boyâs line of sight from within the confines of the cardboard box, and creeps around to stand behind it. Leaning over the top, he waits for the perfect moment, a predator waiting to dive in for the kill, before charging, hand snapping out, he snatches the ankle that little footâs connected to, and tugs the four year old out from within his box.
Keigo shrieks in surprise, little fingers curling in the hem of his t-shirt, holding it in place, giggling as he dangles upside down in daddyâs grasp.
Kettie smiles at his son. âGot you, Lil Wings, you know what that means.â The winged child giggles harder, shaking his head, and he nods in time with the shaking of his head. âOh yea, and Iâm claiming that belly as my prize.â
âŚ
So you might give yourself away, yeah
And pay full price for each mistake
But when the candy coating hides the razor blade
You can cut yourself loose and use that rage
âŚ
Keigo sees the dark bottle in the fridge, having come in search of a juice pouch, and rears back. He knows what that bottle is, he knows whatâs inside, he knows whatâs going to happen now, daddyâs gonna go away, andâand the man is gonna come back, the one that hurts him, the one that hurts him.
He shrieks as he stumbles over his own feet, crashing back into one of the chairs at the table, the door to the fridge hanging open, all he sees is that bottle, the bottle of drink, the drink that makes the man angry.
Kettie comes running from down the hall, they moved, to a new location, rumors of heroes patrolling their old stomping grounds made them pick up their roots and move to a new home, towel wrapped around his waist, wings and hair dripping still from the shower heâd just come out of. âLil Wings, whatâs wrong!â
The winged four year old cowers, in a way he hasnât done for some time now, and crab crawls back under the table, curling up into a quivering tight ball.
He turns the corner, opening the fridge door as it starts to close, and peers inside to see what would have terrified the kid this bad, his eyes landing on the dark bottle, and he just knows. âNo, Lil Wings, itâs not what you think.â Reaching into the fridge, Kettie curls his fingers around the neck of the bottle, pulling it out as he rises. Closing the fridge as he turns, he lowers himself to sit on his knees, mindful of the fact that heâs currently in nothing but a towel, and sets the bottle down, pushing it under the table towards the quivering child. âItâs not what you think, Lil Wings, itâs juice, just juice.â
Keigo peeks out at him from inside his wings, and he nods, pointing at the bottle. âTake a sniff, itâs just juice, the plastic bottle had a hole in it, so I found a bottle in the alley outside and cleaned it out to put the juice in it, give it a sniff, I promise itâs just juice.â
Tentatively, little quivering wings pull back, and a small shaking hand reaches out for the neck of the bottle, fingers curling around it as he pulls it back, taking a small sniff over the mouth of the bottle, relaxing at the fruity scent of his juice wafting up into his nose.
Juice.
Just juice.
The man wasnât coming back.
Daddy was staying.
âŚ
I wish someone wouldâve told me that this darkness comes and goes
People will pretend but, baby boy, nobody knows
And even I canât teach you how to fly
But I can show you to live like your life is on the line
âŚ
Kettie knows how dangerous it is for them to do this, but they were birds, those who are meant to fly should fly, the sky was their domain, so he scoops the brat up as he strides through their small home and throws the door open, jumping into the air without pause.
Keigo shrieks in delight, the little bird loves it when he takes him flying, still too young to go on his own, his wings not strong enough to hold him yet.
Carefully, as he glides on a Windstream, he moves the four year old up to rest on his back, Keigo moves without being told, laying flat on his back, between his wings, and spreads his own little wings, throwing his arms out, as he cheers excitedly, the wind rushing through his feathery blonde hair and soft baby down feathers. Kettie smiles to himself, curling his arms behind him to hold the child in place as he lifts them higher, listening to the boy laugh in elation, as he catches another Windstream and they glide through the air.
Heâs been itching to touch the sky, birds shouldnât be grounded, they belong in the sky, the sky was their home, a grounded bird is a suffering bird.
âŚ
You throw your head back
And you spit in the wind
Let the walls crack
âCause it lets the light in
Let âem drag you through hell
Thatâs all I know so far
âŚ
He wakes up at the sharp loud bang of a rumbling crash of thunder, rain pelting the window above their heads, in front of their bed, and Keigo peers outside, lifting the curtain up just a itty bitty bit, eyes widening at the magnificent flash of lightning, a bolt of lightning whipping across the sky, and shrinks back at the loud boom of thunder.
Wings quivering, he turns to the mound next to him, snoring softly, undisturbed by the storm raging around them, his back and wings facing him.
Chewing on his lip, a nervous habit, he crawls forward, mind made up, and carefully worms his way under the arm laying limping on daddyâs side.
Kettie opens his eyes when he feels damp hair brush over his arm, a small body worming itâs way under his arm, and rolls his eyes fondly, reaching over, the child squeaks when he grabs his shirt, folds his wing back tightly, and tugs him up and over his side.
Keigo blinks when daddy curls his arms around him, one of his large red wings curling over him like a roof of feathers, and the scruff on his chin brushes against his forehead. âGo to sleep, Lil Wings, youâre okay.â
âŚ
I will be with you till the world blows up, yes
Up and down and through till the world blows up, yeah
When itâs right or itâs all fucked up
Till the world blows up, till the world blows up
And we will be enough
And until the world blows up
âŚ
Kettie holds tight to the five year oldâs hands, hovering midair, it took mighty back muscles to hover midair, but heâs got them, Keigo standing, bare feet braced against his thighs, wings spread wide. âYou feel the current, Lil Wings? Youâre one with the air, one with the sky, let it talk to you.â
The five year old nods. âYea, daddy, I feel it.â
âFeel how it moves,â the winged man instructs. âThe world is breathing, the wind is itâs breath, feel itâs push and pull?â
âUhuh.â Keigo nods. âLike tug-o-war.â
âRight, like tug-o-war.â Kettie nods. âWhatâs the air doing, whatâs it telling you, what direction does it want to go?â
The winged boy pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he thinks. âIt wants to go up.â
âOkay,â the villain intones. âNow flap your wings, in a sweeping motion, just like I showed you.â
Keigo nods, his face scrunching up adorably in concentration, Kettie has to refrain from giving into the desire to nuzzle that such seriousness off that little face, and does as he was told and shown, and his eyes widen when he lifts from daddyâs thighs, hovering with him, caught in the upstream of the current.
Kettie lets his hands go and pushes himself back a few feet, holding his hands out, teaching someone to fly was like teaching someone to walk. âCome to daddy, Lil Wings, just like I showed you, sweeping motions, go with the wind, go with the current, donât fight it, câmere Lil Wings.â The winged five year old curls his fingers into tight fists and changes the direction of his beats, his flight is sloppy, wavering, like a baby walking for the very first time, but he manages to find himself back in those strong scarred arms, and he grins, cheering. Kettie grins, lifting the boy up, face to face, and nuzzles him proudly. âYou did it, Lil Wings, I knew you could do it!â
âŚ
Just throw your head back
And spit in the wind
Let the walls crack
âCause it lets the light in
Let âem drag you through hell
They canât tell you to change who you are
âŚ
Keigo squeals with laughter, smacking at daddyâs head, tugging at his hair.
Kettie laughs softly into the side of the five year oldâs neck, nuzzling in and nibbling again, laying over the little boy in their bed, trapping him underneath him. He starts kissing and the boy squeals again, tugging at his long hair, pushing at his chest desperately, and then he nuzzles in again.
He doesnât know how to be a parent, a good parent, not really, he only had his grandfather to show him what one was supposed to look like, supposed to act like. But he knew, for sure, what a parent shouldnât do.
Kazou was Father to Kettie.
Kettie was Daddy to Keigo.
He figured he must be doing something right.
âŚ
And when the stormâs out
Youâll run in the rain
Put your sword down
Dive right into the pain
Stay unfiltered and loud
Youâll be proud of that skin full of scars
Thatâs all I know so far
âŚ
They stand in the living room of their small home, candles flickering around them, the soft glowing light illuminating the room in itâs warmth, swaying slightly in a small circle, foreheads pressed together, staring into each otherâs eyes.
Arms curled around daddyâs neck, Keigo breaks the silence first, in a soft whisper. âI love you, daddy.â
Kettie smiles softly, rubbing their noses together. âI love you too, Lil Wings.â
Takami Kettie never wanted kids, but he wouldnât trade this one for the world.
âŚ
I will be with you till the world blows up
