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When Keigo wakes up, head spinning and heavy, the feeling of his brain pounding in his skull, his first thought was that he and his lover had been out partying too hard the night before.
But the fact that he was sitting upright -albeit slumped, but upright- and there was a tight feeling around his wrists, he knew something was very very wrong.
He forces his seemingly glued shut eyes open, vision blurry, and looks around the room.
"Baby bird?" He calls, looking around tiredly, head still feeling heavy and still tired enough to have trouble fully grasping his present situation. He looks down at his arms, seeing them strapped to the arms of the metal chair he's sat in.
Pulling himself out of his daze, he blinks, yanking at his arms. He begins to see now that he is in a dimly lit room with cracked cement walls, and tables up against the walls with random objects laying on them. It's sort of a mess.
"What the fuck? Where am I?" He calls out to seemingly nobody, trying his hardest to bring his feathers over to get him out of the situation, like they did so often. But they're gone. Fuck. Who knows how long he's been out, who knows how long he has before they grow back out.
He'd have to find another way out. Which, while difficult, shouldn't be impossible. After all, being a hero is about much more than just the quirk you possess.
After some thought, the last thing he remembers... He thought he was going into a warehouse to take down a small group of villains... not even villains. Petty criminals, really.
But he can't even remember leaving the agency. Did things go really wrong and he has pieces of his memory missing as a result? Did they find out and somehow get the jump on him in before he even left?
Him and... shit. Y/N. They were teamed up for this mission. They usually were. But right now they were nowhere in sight. His chest gets a painful pang at the thought.
The sounds of footsteps make his head snap up to a now noticeable dark doorway. A dark haired man steps in.
"Ah, Hawks." The man's solid black eyes flicker down to Takami's face, whose jaw is clenched angrily.
"It's good to see you awake finally." The mans voice is low, and it almost resembles a growl.
"Where the fuck is Y/N?" He snaps.
The man chuckles, stepping over the question. "You pulled a pretty big stunt earlier. Shame you didn't know what you were getting yourself into. Keeping a low profile has its benefits. You wouldn't know much about that, would you, #2 hero?" He taunts, grabbing Keigo by the chin and the left side of his mouth curls into a grin revealing a truly pristine white smile, but his canines are sharp and threatening.
"Fuck you." Keigo spits, yanking his arms at the restraints again. "When I get out of here I'm going to kick your ass and turn you in." Even with his impressive strength the restraints don't budge.
He wouldn't normally go head-first into being aggresive, but his charismatic nature was nowhere in sight with his partner's safety in question. He was somewhere between panicked and pissed.
"I'm sure that will solve everything, won't it?" The man chuckles, unbothered and maybe even amused by the display.
The man's hold on his chin remains, and Keigo lowers his face in an attempt to bite his fingers but he tightens his grip to accommodate, and Keigo is certain he'll have a bruised jaw. There are more things to worry about though. The man steps back.
"What do you want?" He snarls, glaring.
"Me? I just want to play. The big man said we could play with the two of you as much as I want." He grins, pleased by the expression change in his eyes at the words 'two of you.'
"You'll be plenty of fun, but your bitch is going to be even more." He seems giddy at the idea. Keigo fights the clasps again, desperately struggling to get out.
"Don't touch them! Let me the fuck out of here, you piece of shit!" He yells, thrashing in his seat.
The man smiles, once again amused.
"I'll come talk to you later, Hawks." He heads back out the doorway. Keigo yells at him to 'come back, we're not done', but the door shuts.
>
Blood pouring from his nose, eyelids swollen and the taste of iron in his mouth, he slouches again.
"You wanna try and tell me again, hero?" The masked person taunts.
It was someone different this time.
"Fuck you." He spits blood in his direction, glaring when his heavy head seems to fall backwards, unsupported by the short back of the chair.
He jumps at the sound of a slamming door, but it sound muffled. It sounds like it's coming from the other side of the wall.
"Your partner's been a joy to play with. Bleeds real pretty." The masked villain steps forward, grabbing him by the hair, matted with blood, and grins. Keigo's lips curl into a snarl.
"I've been looking forward to this, it's going to be so much fun." He grins, a look of real genuine joy on his face. Sadistic fucking piece of shit.
But his blood runs cold when he hears a familiar voice loudly from the other side of the wall.
"No, no, no, don't touch me!"
He jumps against his restraints, lifting his head.
"Baby?" He shouts, staring at the wall in the direction the sound is coming from.
"Get the fuck off of me!" The sound of anger, fear, desperation.
"What the fuck is this?" He demands. "Don't you fucking touch them!"
The masked man grabs a piece of material, and despite his best efforts, its managed to be tied around his mouth and neck mostly silencing him.
"No! I'll fucking kill you! I'll make you regret being born you fucking piece of shit!" They sound angry, but underneath that he can hear the fear clear as day in their usually steady voice.
His heart pounds, and his blood runs cold. What the fuck is going on?
"No, no please!" The tone shifts to terror. He had never heard them like this.
The voice gets closer as if being brought closer to the wall to taunt him. A creak as a piece of furniture gets dragged across the floor. That's the intention. To make sure he hears.
He can distantly hear the sound of the man from earlier chuckling, low and dark, low whispers, and then a clinking sound. Like... like a belt.
A blood curdling scream follows, a sound he's positive is incinerated in his brain until the day he dies.
Loud sobs, chants of "no!" and then creaking. Over and over again.
Keigo screams against the material, and thrashes around, tears rolling down his face as his heart pounds. He tries with all of the strength he has to escape and its not enough. He tries and tries, now bleeding painful wounds on his forearms as he struggles against the tight restraints that dig into his skin.
He tries to drown out the sounds, he tries to ignore the creaking, the sobbing, and then a silence.
He failed them.
Muffled bawling apologies from his mouth through the gag never make it far. His chest and body heave with sobs, face soaked with his own tears. He never stops fighting against the restraints though. Even as his arms burn, metallic liquid soaking into his clothes and hitting the floor, he keeps yanking. Desperate.
"Poor pathetic thing. You couldn't protect them." The masked man approaches, petting his jaw. He jerks violently away from the touch.
"Wasn't this fun?" He smiles deviously, before turning around and walking out.
He tries to scream through the gag. It doesn't project his voice the way he wanted.
He collapses back into the chair, bawling, composure gone. Shoulders heaving with each sob, face covered in tears and snot.
I'm so fucking sorry baby bird. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm sorry.
>
Gatorade.
A false sense of security in the wrongness that is everything.
Gatorade, a turkey sandwich.
Lunch. It was the meal every day for the last four days.
Keigo was determined at first to tell them to eat shit, and that he wasn't going to touch what they gave him.
And he fought back as they altered his restraints slightly, so he could use his hands just enough to feed himself, he fought back trying with everything he had to get free, to knock their skulls together, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
And he needed his strength. He needed to have the energy to get himself and his partner out if the opportunity presented itself. He knew the food wouldn't be poisoned, if they wanted him dead they'd just kill him.
His wings ached... at the feeling of new tiny sprouting feathers, they'd roughly pull them out with pliers and incinerate them immediately. His screams would echo through the room and halls, as much as he tried to stay quiet to comfort his partner. He knew they'd been through enough here and the sounds of him screaming would just be more unnecessary stress to them. And he'd held out for a while, but after so much, he just... couldn't keep it in anymore.
And so back and forth over the three days they had to hear the others beatings, the torture, the... the things Keigo couldn't bring himself to think about for too long from opposite sides of the wall.
>
"Bring him in here. Bring that motherfucker in here." Bloody saliva running down his chin, eyes half lidded and mouth in a dark snarl.
"Come on, Takami. We aren't that stupid. We know if we brought him in here you'd try and find a way to kill him. You'd fail, of course, but besides its far more fun to watch you beg. Poor little bird. Unfortunately for you, and for Y/H/N in there, his game of choice just isn't you."
>
When Keigo feels hands shaking him and movement around his arms he starts violently thrashing again and yelling.
"Takami, Takami get ahold of yourself, its me." The familiar voice and face of the #1 hero himself.
"Endeavor? Hey, get me out of here! Y/N! I need to get to Y/N!"
He burns the restraints, and Keigo's body feels heavy and shaky as he yanks himself up.
"Where are they?" A female hero he doesn't fully recognize in his current state questions.
>
"Baby bird, oh fuck, baby bird open your pretty eyes for me please." His voice shakes as he rubs their bruised and tear stained cheeks gently with his thumbs.
When they flinch away from his touch and "no more, please" in a desperate tone leaves their lips he can't stop the rolling tears and he steadies the heaving sob that tries to move his shoulders.
"No, no baby bird, it's me, it's your big Hawk man, look at me." he tries to force a reassuring smile, rubbing their cheeks gently as their eyes open weakly.
"Keigo-" their voice shakes. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I couldn't stop him, I'm sorry" they sob.
"Songbird its okay, its okay, you're free, you're free we're getting out of here. Okay? We're going home."
>
Several months later, things really aren't okay. They were even worse before though. With their agency on temporary close for healing, it allowed them to have more time to focus on that.
They needed it.
And now, they wanted lunch.
And so they were getting lunch. He was going to get them whatever they wanted. They'd finally gone out of the house with him once or twice recently, on his trip to the store. Now seemed like as good of a day to try and find a restaurant as any.
-
Their eyes scan the building intensely, flickering back and forth from face to face as they stand beside him. His hands are stuffed into his pockets as he waits by the register.
"It's been a while since we've been here." He tries to pull them from their thoughts. It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped, but it does get a nod of acknowledgement.
"We got take-out last week." They note, arms crossing protectively over their chest as they look around.
"Yeah, but its nice to get some fresh air and sunlight, isn't it?"
They shrug.
He gives a weak smile, observing their tense stature and speaks up when the person steps up to the register in an attempt to stop them from being surprised. It still doesn't stop them from jumping at the sudden appearance but at least its a warning.
He silently thanks them, paying, and nodding his head at his partner to signal for them to find a table.
"Alright baby, here's your sandwich, your pop, your chips," he lists, setting the items down onto the tray. They sit silently, unraveling the paper.
He opens their chips for them, knowing they're unlikely to do it on their own, more likely to leave them there.
Light music plays in the background, and he smiles hearing it. "Hey, isn't this that one song you like?"
They nod, only half listening as their eyes continue to scan the restaurant. Every time they went outside, it was a constant search for someone who might cause harm.
They'd been seeing a professional, but it seemed even that could only go so far. So he was trying his best to be supportive directly.
They silently eat together. Then they reach for their pop, lifting the cup and drinking from their straw.
After a few seconds, the cup hits the table. It doesn't spill, but it lands with a clear thud.
"Baby?" He questions, setting his drink down and reaching for their hand. They stare off.
"Baby bird? Talk to me, whats going on?"
"They gave me... they gave me a Gatorade. They gave me a Gatorade, Keigo." They repeat quietly, a few more times for good measure.
"A gat-" he starts, confused. But then his stomach drops.
He remembers.
Every day. The same meal every day.
"Hey, hey hey hey," he tries to comfort, squeezing their hands in his. He notices how violently they shake in his, and how damp and sweaty they are.
"Hey, baby bird look at me, look where we are." His voice is hushed as he squeezes, trying to ground them. Their eyes are squeezed shut and they violently wrench their hands away, palms digging into their closed eyelids and loud gasping breaths leaving their mouth.
"Hey, baby I need you to look at me, okay?" He stands up, walking over and crouching beside them as he gently takes their arms into his hands, pulling them away from their face as he knows they aren't capable of realizing just how hard they're pressing down and they may end up accidentally hurting themselves.
He's thankful that the restaurant is mostly empty, but he doesn't miss the few eyes darting over before quickly turning away.
"Look at me." His voice is urgent, but not forceful. Their face is twisted into pain, and he feels them trying to curl up into themselves from the way their arms pull.
They hesitantly look to him, watery eyes forced open as they shake violently.
"You're okay. You're alright, we're in a restaraunt okay?" Some of his feathers swoop around to wipe at their tears, and he watches as they lean their face against them.
"5 things?" He offers, and they nod, moving their hands to squeeze into his.
"5 things you see, baby bird. Come on, you've got this."
"S-Sandwich, feathers, um..." they start to look around, vision blurred in their panic.
"What else sweetheart?" He gets closer to their face, squeezing their hands tighter.
"-eyelashes... a napkin. Hair." They look him up and down.
"Great job. 4 things you can feel."
They squeeze his hands gently.
"H-Hands," they rub their damp cheek on a lingering feather. "feather," they pull their hand from his grasp and place it on his cheek. "little beard,"
"You got it baby, one more, you're almost there."
They grasp at the collar of his shirt, rubbing the material with their thumb.
"Shirt."
He nods, kissing them on the forehead as they slide their hand back into his.
"3 things you can hear, okay?"
They breathe shakily, closing their eyes.
"The... fan, its loud."
"Yeah? It is pretty loud." He gives a little chuckle. "What else." He speaks lowly.
"Your voice." They list, twisting their fingers into his.
"Wings." They continue, and he suddenly realizes he's been sort of flapping them a bit.
He turns and smiles.
"You got it. 2 things you can smell?"
"Bread." They say easily, and he smiles, happy that this time they're able to get through it a little bit easier.
"And what else?"
They lean forward a bit, forehead pressed to his, and then pull back.
"Shampoo. Is that mine?"
He grins, nodding. "Yeah, I ran out and yours always makes mine soft."
"It's expensive, you dick. If you want my shampoo buy some for yourself."
"You weren't using it." He defends with a smile, happy to hear the hint of a joking tone in their voice.
"Last one, what can you taste, then?" He tries to give a flirty smile, expecting them to grab a quick kiss, but instead their face twists into a bitter grimace and they give a cold laugh.
"Not fucking Gatorade. Jesus." They sit up straight in their chair.
"I'll get you the pop you wanted, you want me to?" He asks, standing up but not wanting to move away from them just yet.
"I want my fucking Coca-Cola. Yeah. But I want to go home even more." They tighten their hands in his.
He nods, squeezing back.
"Okay, fuck the pop. We've got some at home. Let's go, okay?" He nods towards the door, his feathers moving to collect and toss the trash and tray, and wrapping it all back up into the plastic bag. They nod, leading the way to the door.
Things weren't okay. But they would be one day. They both knew that. It would take time, but they would eventually be okay again.