#shanlightyear

yooooo, it is time!!! i have struggled with this for the past two weeks!!!

i am a fucking goner when it comes to keigo not being able to handle sudden influxes of emotions. to each their own, build your own world, but while writing this i had feral hawks in mind?? he's angry, he's upset, and in absolute turmoil bc he doesn't know what to do and he truly thought the one person he loved was dead forever. he's very distrusting in this, especially now that he finds out y/n is alive. it's kind of a shock to his brain so he just shuts down.

anyway, enjoy!!

Time passes in a blur.

The sound from the shots fired are still rattling your brain and you find it hard to focus through the chaos.

A low groan pulls you from your stupor and you see Keigo sit up, his hand pressed to his left shoulder. Your eye catches the sight of blood seeping through his fingers and a whole new wave of panic sets over you.

You immediately rush to his side, your hand clasping around the one he's holding to his shoulder. He jumps at your touch and turns to look at you, and your heart immediately sinks deep in your chest.

He looks so far away.

"Kei.." you whisper, gently trying to pry his hand away from his shoulder so you can get a better look. His free hand shoots forward and grabs your wrist this time, his grasp tight enough to leave bruises.

He doesn't say anything, just squints as if he doesn't trust your intentions.

Though seeing him like this isn't something that's unfamiliar to you, it's still something you'll never get used to. The events of the past few weeks have turned him cold and distant, like he's running on autopilot.

A medic finally breaks through the conundrum around you and kneels down to Keigo's right-hand side, and she looks at you as if she's waiting for the go-ahead.

You glance at him one more time before nodding to her, and she begins rummaging through her medical bag.

"He's uh.. he's kinda out of it right now? I don't know if it's shock but he's a little out of it. I don't think he's had time to.." your words die off in your throat and you look up at the medic. She smiles in sympathy.

You're sure he hasn't had time to process. He never does.

"It's okay, hun. There's an ambulance just over there," she points through the crowd of officers, and in the distance you can see its lights flashing. "Do you think you can help me get him to it?"

Suddenly Keigo's grip tightens on your wrist and alarm bells start going off in your head.

It's a little funny, actually. Your shared hatred for hospitals.

"I don't think he'll react to well to being in an ambulance.." you say quietly, and the medic nods patiently as she continues pulling items from her bag.

"Okay. I'm going to check his heart rate and give him a little something for the pain. In the mean time do you think you could help me get his jacket off? I need to have a better look."

Getting his jacket off turns out to be a pain in the ass. Mostly because of his wings, but also because he absolutely refuses to let go of the vice-like grip he has on your wrist.

After a few tries of pulling his jacket down over his wings, you let go, kneeling back down to his side.

"Baby, I need you to do me a really big favor right now," you whisper to him, bringing your free hand to rest on his shoulder. "I know there's a lot going on, but I need you to shed a couple feathers for me so we can get your jacket off, okay?"

You're suddenly pushed back on your ass, wings and feathers making your sight blur, Keigo's hold on you gone. He hisses in pain as he stands, his gaze flickering between you and the medic in distrust.

He takes off like a whirlwind, once in your arms and potentially safe, and now completely out of your sight.

It feels like the past hour didn't even happen. Like you never came back to him.

All you're left staring at is your blood covered hands and Kimura's dead body being hauled away.

○○○

Coming back to the agency is, in a sense, completely disorienting.

The police have to escort you through the back entrance, which is located in a small alleyway they already have blocked off for your arrival.

You were already examined after Keigo took off, the medic taking the time to calm you down and give you a good once-over. Though she was very impressed with Tanaka's handiwork on your bullet wound, she was still shocked that you were even up and running around.

She gave you a sad look once you were cleared to return to the agency, and you next thing you know you were being dragged away by police.

You receive many stares from fellow heros and sidekicks as you try to sneak through the halls of Keigo's agency, your coworkers and friends staring in awe at your sudden arrival.

Right. You were supposed to be dead.

Soon enough you're being guided into an empty room with a round table and a few chairs, two officers following behind you to take your statement.

When they finally put two and two together and realize how exhausted you are, only then are you being led out of the office and driven home.

○○○

You're on the phone with Rumi as you make your way up to the apartment you share with Keigo, and she's just gotten done scolding you about the bullshit stunt you pulled whilst simultaneously telling you how thankful she is that you're alive, when you stop dead in your tracks.

Your apartment door is cracked open, barely an inch but just enough to let you know someone is inside.

"Rumi, can I call you back? I'm sorry, I just got home," you say quietly, hopefully not giving yourself away as you nudge the apartment door open.

"Of course. But y/n, don't ever do that again, okay? It wasn't easy finding out that you.." she trails off, going quiet, "- and, well, Keigo didn't exactly handle it well, either."

You pause in the doorway of your home, a sense of guilt washing over you. It was a hard decision. And it wasn't exactly easy for you, either. You had your back pinned against a wall and it had felt like your only option at the time.

"I know," you say quietly, "I'm sorry. But I promise we'll talk about it later, okay?"

"Okay. I'll let you know if I hear anything about Keigo. Stay safe in the meantime."

With that you hang up the phone, your attention fully turned back to your apartment. You step inside, careful not to touch anything or make too much noise.

Surprisingly nothing seems out of place. It's a little more of a mess than how you left it, Keigo having left a few dishes in the sink and a pile of mail on the kitchen island.

You frown as you walk forward, noting a scarce trail of blood on your apartment floor. You turn around and notice it starts just outside your apartment door, the small droplets continuing in to your apartment and further down the hall to your bedroom.

You hesitantly continue your journey forward, adrenaline coursing through your body and making itself known in the slight shake of your hands.

You reach the end of the trail, pausing infront of your bedroom door to take a deep breath in preparation for what lies behind it. You slowly nudge it open, fight-or-flight ebbing in the back of your mind, but it all comes to a halt when you take in the sight before you.

Keigo is sitting on your shared bed, still in most of his hero uniform - save for the shirt and jacket - hunched forward with his head in his hands. There's a few bloodied towels tossed around him, and the emergency medical kit you both keep stashed away for bad nights is sitting atop the bed next to him.

He doesn't react to your presence, seemingly in his own little world, so you creep forward to kneel down in front of him.

"Keigo?" You ask hesitantly, reaching a hand out to rest on his knee. He flinches away and drops his hands from his face, and the feral look he's giving you makes your heart ache. He watches your every move, even the minor muscle movements in your arm when you pull away.

You both sit in silence for a few moments, with you being too scared to make any sudden movements that might scare him off while he stares you down.

"This is some sort of sick joke," he sneers as he squints at you, the words slipping from his lips like venom.

"Keigo-"

His laughter is quiet, a slight rumble of his chest as he leans back, sitting up at his full height with his head tilted back. He stares at the ceiling with his brows furrowed, and you can finally see his emotions beginning to surface. He shoots both of his hands out to grab your wrists, pulling you forward slightly as he leers down at you again.

"I watched you die." He grits out, harsh, as he leans forward into your personal space. "I watched you sit on that filthy fucking floor of that alleyway while you told me you loved me and promised me it would be okay and you fucking died."

He leans back once more, shaking his head as he laughs a little louder, maniacal sounding. "Maybe this is payback for all the wrong I've ever done. For not being what I'm supposed to. You were too good for me - and he knew I didn't deserve you so he took you away from me."

You swallow hard at his words, trying your best to not get worked up. You slip your hands from his instead, guiding one of them to rest against your chest, directly over your heart. He tries to pull away but you keep his hold, gauging his reaction as you do so.

"Stop," he whispers to you, and you shake your head in response.

"I won't stop, Keigo. I'm right here. This isn't.. this isn't some sick joke that someone's playing on you. I -" you choke on your words, and he squints at you again in suspicion, "I need you to trust me right now. Just for a moment, okay? At least let me get you patched up and I'll explain everything to you. I promise."

"You remember what you promised me last time?" He huffs out. It isn't asked with spite, but you know he needs clearance and his voice still holds distrust.

"Keigo, please. You're bleeding all over the place. Let me take care of your shoulder and we'll talk."

He stares at you for a moment longer before the tension starts leaking from his body. You pull your hands away and his own fall back onto his lap, his guard finally dissipating.

You sigh in relief and stand slowly, still afraid to spook him. "Thank you. I'm going to wash my hands, I'll be right back. Stay here and don't touch anything, okay?"

He just stares at you, and you give him a hopeful smile before making your way to the bathroom to wash your hands.

○○○

When you come back he's in the same spot you left him, this time tightly pressing a towel to his shoulder to stem the blood flow.

You dig through the medical bag and find a pair of latex medical gloves, pulling them on and taking a deep breath.

"Okay," you whisper, more to yourself for reassurance.

Okay. This is fine. You got this. All you have to do is clean it, check for an exit wound, remove the bullet fragments if there are any, and pack it. Then you'll drag him to the hospital against his will tomorrow to get it professionally looked at.

It's a messy job. You truly aren't a fan of having his blood covering your hands, but luckily it's not as bad at it could have been. There is no exit wound which means you have to remove the bullet fragments yourself, so you reach over and grab one of his discarded belts that's laying on your bedroom floor. You hold it out to him and tell him to bite down, and thankfully he doesn't put up a fight.

You clean as much blood from the wound as you can, pouring a good amount of antiseptic onto it, before leaning down to place a kiss on his forehead.

"This is gonna hurt really bad, and I'm so sorry, but bare with me, okay?" You smile sadly at him, and he looks up at you in acknowledgement with tired eyes, biting down on the belt you gave him.

He's quiet for most of the process, save for a few grunts and his vice-like grip on your shirt, but you manage to remove all of the bullet fragments and pack the wound without any issues.

When it's all said and done you hand him a few pain killers that you're sure will have him knocked out in the next half hour, and he swallows them down dry as you place gauze over the front of his shoulder.

You remove your gloves and gather the blood stained towels that have piled up around the room, leaving the room to toss it all into the garbage. You wash your hands in the kitchen sink once more, being sure to rid your skin of any remainders of Keigo's blood, scrubbing hard as if it'll remove the image from your mind.

You dry your hands and grab a glass of water for him, and then make your way back to your shared bed room.

When you get back he's curled up on his side, stripped down to nothing but his boxer briefs. He looks up at you, looking small and child-like, and your heart melts.

You hand him the glass of water and he sits up to take a few sips. When he's done he places it on the nightstand and reaches forward for you, his hands tangling in the fabric of your shirt.

You climb onto the bed next to him, resting on your side so you're both facing eachother, and you pull the blankets over both your bodies for warmth. He immediately draws closer to you, his arms coming to wrap around you tightly as he nuzzles his face into your chest. He breathes out a shuttering sigh, and you run your hands through his hair to calm him.

"Thank you for coming back to me," he hiccups softly - broken. You kiss his forehead one more time and listen as his breaths even out, a tell-tale sign that he's finally asleep.

Knowing that he's safe in your arms finally puts you at ease and you allow your eyes to slip shut, true rest finally finding you.

I'm way too invested in this now. This was supposed to be a one-shot and now look whats happened lmaooo

i'll be writing a part three!! we'll get a sneak peak into how our lil birb dealt with the trauma of losing the one thing he cares about, and y/n will explain their side of the story to kei

ngl i'm not suuuper pleased with how this turned out but it's been a long time since i've written something (with multiple parts nonetheless)

feedback is appreciated!!! if you have any prompts or requests, hmu!!

Peko shoots a smile over her shoulder, just before she slips behind the back corner of the shed. Nozomi rocks on her heels, and counts the last few seconds out in slow, dragging syllables.

“… Ten!”

She takes off before she’s even done with the word, arms thrown out to either side. He lifts his head to watch, just to make sure she doesn’t go barreling off into the woods again. (It’d taken a full twenty minutes to get her out of the tree, the last time they played.)

She doesn’t. She checks under bushes and behind skinny trees and once, quickly, in the bird house because, she says, “Mama is the best hider,” which he can’t exactly dispute. When she’s exhausted her obvious choices, she turns in place in the center of the garden, chubby hands cupped around her mouth.

“Mama?” she calls. “Maaama!”

The thing about the grief is, he let it in. He let it room and settle, and accepted the space it would always take up in his head. Getting it back out stopped being an option, after that. It stayed. It’s always stayed. Even now, during a game of hide-and-seek on a late summer afternoon.

What did or didn’t happen in the simulation never mattered, when it came to that. The woman tucked just out of sight behind the shed is not the same as the girl who died with her limp arms curled around his shoulders. Most days, he knows the difference. It’s fine. It’s past.

But sometimes, when the kaleidoscope of that grief aligns incorrectly, the differences aren’t so clear.

Right now, his daughter is standing alone in the center of the garden. She drops her arms to her sides, defeated, and cries, “Mama!”

The kaleidoscope shifts, and swallows him whole.

She’s shouting at him next. He knows, because that’s what always happens. “Papa,” she says, and the tremble in her voice is his imagination, but still, “where’d Mama go?”

In reality, it’s an innocent game, one that’s become as important to hide-and-seek as both the hiding and the seeking. He has his role. He has his lines. “Beats me, kid,” he’s supposed to say. “Did you check around the shed?”

Nozomi turns around, when he doesn’t take his cue. She’s wearing her big smile, the one meant to charm the answer out of him— but she takes one look at his face, and her smile freezes, then contorts. 

She goes from contentment to confusion to fear to tears, in no time flat.

His knees lock up. He feels stuck to his seat. It’s one thing for the grief to take up permanent residence in his own head; it’s something very, very different when the tendrils reach out at his family.

Nozomi’s wailing brings Peko out from behind the shed. She rushes forward and sinks to her knees, tucking Nozomi’s hair back to check for bumps and bruises. “What is it?” she asks. “What happened?”

Nozomi whimpers nonsense through her tears, grasping at the front of Peko’s blouse with both hands. She’s too young to understand what just happened; she only knows the relentless push and pull of her own emotions, frightening and overwhelming.

Peko looks back at him, and understands perfectly.

She scoops Nozomi up into her arms. She crosses the garden, bouncing Nozomi high on her hip, and they settle together in the chair opposite him on the veranda. He drags his around the edge of the table, so that he and Peko can sit knee-to-knee. She watches him while Nozomi cries, her eyes soft and concerned.

“Nozomi,” she says, when the sobs have settled to hiccups.

Nozomi presses her face deeper into the crook of her neck.

He smooths his hand over her back. Her little shoulders tremble. “Gave you a scare, huh?” he says, and tries not to let it sound as thick as his throat feels. “I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t mean it.”

She mumbles something, straight into Peko’s shoulder.

“What’s that?”

She picks her face up and growls, “Don’t do it again!”

The painful grip of his throat loosens just enough to let out a shaky breath of a laugh.

He shouldn’t laugh. She means it, face scrunched up with determination and shiny with fresh tears. Peko gets to smile, half-hidden behind Nozomi’s hair, but he’s the one who started all of this.

Even still, it’s hard. It’s funny. Her voice is small and squeaky, and he can hear his own intonation in it, like he’s being scolded by himself for coloring on the floor or eating before everyone is at the table.

She doesn’t understand. Hopefully she never does, not fully.