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Takami Keigo stares up into the night sky. He wishes the scorched wings on his back would spring to life and carry him up to the stars. What would it be like to feel the wind rush against his body? What would it be like to touch the stars?
What would it be like to be free?
Even if he did have wings, nothing would change. He’d still be a cautionary tale, an Icarus not a Pegasus.
Keigo looks away from the stars and pulls his hand away from his stomach with a grimace. It’s stained red, nearly black in the dim alley light. His cell lay across the way, the screen shattered and dark.
If the blood loss doesn’t kill him first, the shock will. Despite being the height of summer, permafrost nips at his fingers, and shivers shake his body.
No matter how fast one runs, death is inevitable.
“My, my, my, what have we here?” a familiar voice drawls out of the darkness further down the alley. “A fallen angel?” Keigo hates that voice. He loves that voice.
“Fuck off, Touya,” Keigo spits out. Let him die in peace at least. He’s not ready to die.
Footsteps grow closer. Dry, cool fingers grip his chin and force his head up. Rebelliously, he shuts his eyes before he can see Touya’s face. What expression is he wearing? His usual cool nonchalance? A knowing smirk? Burning rage?
Last time they saw each other, Keigo had just killed Bubaigawara Jin, aka Twice, a League Lieutenant. Touya, Dabi, serial arsonist and murderer, underboss of the League, burned his handprint onto his back in retaliation. Burned away his wings. Tore him down to Earth.
The time before that Touya had tied his hands to the headboard and fucked him until he passed out. He misses that.
Everything in him hungers for this man. A criminal who he should have locked up and then thrown away the key. The Sun that Keigo couldn’t help but fly closer to.
Smoke billows into his face and clogs his nose. Keigo coughs, jarring his stomach. Excruciating pain jolts across his body and tears spring to his eyes.
He opens them, and cold turquoise eyes gaze back at him.
“Oh, good. You’re still alive, after all,” Touya says with a cruelly beautiful grin.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be dead soon enough,” Keigo replies, aiming for dry and falling short at weak. Falling, falling, falling. That’s all he knows how to now. It’s hard to keep his eyes open.
Touya’s voice follows him into oblivion. “I’m sure you will be, angel. I’m sure you will be.”
Sunlight beams directly into his eyes and wakes him abruptly. Keigo jolts up. Huh. He’s not dead? He blinks and looks around. Or else the Underworld looks a lot like Touya’s apartment.
“Just in time for breakfast, Sleeping Beauty,” Touya calls from the other room.
Keigo swings out of bed and pauses—his stomach is bandaged, and he’s wearing sweats that aren’t his. Why? Why did Touya save him? Why can’t he kill this traitorous heartbeat of hope?
“Let’s go,” Touya says in a sing-song voice. “I’ve made omelets.”
Keigo’s stomach growls. If Touya went through all the trouble of bandaging him, he’s not going to kill him by poisoning his food… right? Keigo heads into the kitchen, and Touya’s waiting, arms crossed over his bare chest. His scars stand out starkly in the early morning light. He remembers tracing each of them with his tongue, staring up into Touya’s eyes.
His cheeks heat up at the memory. Touya rolls his eyes, pushing off the counter and taking a seat.
“Eat up, angel,” he says.
After a moment, Keigo sits. “Thanks for the meal.” They eat in silence. It’s uncomfortable. It’s going to give him indigestion, the not knowing, the hoping. It’s worse than a knife wound to the gut.
“What does this mean?” he finally demands. “Why did you save me?”
“What do you want to hear, Keigo?” Touya counters, leaning back in his chair. His voice turns mocking. “That I missed you? Your scent, your voice, your body? Should I wax poetry about the void of loneliness you left behind? Should I weep and beg —”
Keigo stands. The chair clatters to the ground behind him. “Yes!” he snarls. “You should. After you marked me. After you abandoned me. You carved, you burned yourself into my fucking soul, you asshole. I—” love you. Touya’s lips swallow the rest of his sentence. He’s grateful. He’s resentful. It’s taking him higher; it’s dragging him down deeper.
And as in every story, Icarus can’t help but fly closer to the Sun.