The time spent here has often forced Keigo to do things he doesn't want to or accept choices that were made for him. And he knows the same can be said for Touya on a much larger scale. So when the doctors come in to check in on Touya, he can feel the the anger that rises in his chest. The frustration of knowing that another choice will be out of his hands. It's enough that he can feel the ends of those red feathers sharpening, wings half spreading in what is no doubt a warning. It's something that immediately has the doctors attention, and there's something satisfying in the look of worry and fear that creases their expressions. What it must be like to be trapped between two people capable of ruining you with so little effort...
There's frantic talk to try and keep Keigo from acting, and he remains still and quiet as he watches them work. They're doing this for Dabi's safety. To make him better. It's what they keep telling him, but Keigo says nothing beyond a dangerously calm correction, "Touya. His name is Touya." The doctors stutter to correct themselves but they do, in the end. Keigo doesn't disturb them as they work. And it's only after a long moment of standing there watching them treat Touya's injuries after they've knocked him out that Keigo realizes what has to happen. Touya needs help if he's going to survive this, and he'll never get better if he's awake and forced to endure the emotional and physical traumas of this place. When the doctor's induce the coma, Keigo is there. Holding Touya's hand and promising that he'll be here when he wakes up. Promise promise.
And he's meant that promise.
In the course of three years, Keigo trains hard. It comes off as him doing what he's told, being the perfect weapon and growing into his role. But for Keigo, it's about getting stronger so when Touya wakes up, they can go. He learns the ins and outs of the facility, watches the others and slowly starts to pick apart the weaknesses in security, in the heroes that lurk in the halls. None of them will see it coming. After all, what danger is there in the obedient bird who has only ever showed its talons once before.
When he's not training, he's at Touya's bedside. He spends as much time as he can at his side, never quite knowing when something will change and Touya will finally open his eyes. Keigo wants to be there when that happens more than anything. He wants Touya to know that he's waited for him all this time, that he's never left his side. That even after all of this, his love for Touya is still burning strong. No one - nothing - has filled the hole in his chest meant only for Touya. Keigo tells the unconscious teen every time he sees him how much he loves him, how he's waiting. He knows Touya can't hear him, but some part of him desperately hopes he does. That he somehow can feel the weight of his words even in a coma.
His 18th birthday has finally passed, and Keigo is still there. Still waiting. He'll be ready to become a hero all on his own soon, but none of that matters to him even when he tells them he's excited to be one. That he won't let them down. Words he knows they want to hear, a situation he's learned to manipulate with their training.
Today, he's perched on the edge of the hospital bed. He's carefully wiping at Touya's skin, washing him the same way he has for the last three years. Every stroke of the warm cloth over his skin is slow and gentle, mindful of what has long since healed and what is still fresh after yet another surgery. He can't do much for Touya without being a doctor, but at least he can do this. Gentle and loving in every way he touches him. When he isn't talking to Touya's unmoving body, he makes familiar soft coos. Anything to show Touya the kindness and affection he deserves even if he isn't conscious to enjoy them.
"There's a new theater in Tokyo," he explains quietly, shifting on the edge of the bed and letting one wing spread to partially hide them just the way he used to when they were both awake. A conversation just for the two of them. "It has three screens. It's supposed to be the ultimate movie goer experience. I want to take you there when you wake up. I've been saving up so we can take a trip, just the two of us. Anywhere you want to go." He presses the cloth to Touya's neck and cheek, wipes his face carefully along the healing seams of skin grafts and scars. When he's done, he sets the cloth in the bowl he'd been dipping it into, slides his hand into Touya's instead as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. He lingers there, eyes closed, remembering a time when he could hear Touya's voice. See those blue eyes looking back at him. One day, he hopes. One day, he'll see them again.
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okay three year timeskip, lmk if this works??
Date: 6/21/22 18:02 (UTC)There's frantic talk to try and keep Keigo from acting, and he remains still and quiet as he watches them work. They're doing this for Dabi's safety. To make him better. It's what they keep telling him, but Keigo says nothing beyond a dangerously calm correction, "Touya. His name is Touya." The doctors stutter to correct themselves but they do, in the end. Keigo doesn't disturb them as they work. And it's only after a long moment of standing there watching them treat Touya's injuries after they've knocked him out that Keigo realizes what has to happen. Touya needs help if he's going to survive this, and he'll never get better if he's awake and forced to endure the emotional and physical traumas of this place. When the doctor's induce the coma, Keigo is there. Holding Touya's hand and promising that he'll be here when he wakes up. Promise promise.
And he's meant that promise.
In the course of three years, Keigo trains hard. It comes off as him doing what he's told, being the perfect weapon and growing into his role. But for Keigo, it's about getting stronger so when Touya wakes up, they can go. He learns the ins and outs of the facility, watches the others and slowly starts to pick apart the weaknesses in security, in the heroes that lurk in the halls. None of them will see it coming. After all, what danger is there in the obedient bird who has only ever showed its talons once before.
When he's not training, he's at Touya's bedside. He spends as much time as he can at his side, never quite knowing when something will change and Touya will finally open his eyes. Keigo wants to be there when that happens more than anything. He wants Touya to know that he's waited for him all this time, that he's never left his side. That even after all of this, his love for Touya is still burning strong. No one - nothing - has filled the hole in his chest meant only for Touya. Keigo tells the unconscious teen every time he sees him how much he loves him, how he's waiting. He knows Touya can't hear him, but some part of him desperately hopes he does. That he somehow can feel the weight of his words even in a coma.
His 18th birthday has finally passed, and Keigo is still there. Still waiting. He'll be ready to become a hero all on his own soon, but none of that matters to him even when he tells them he's excited to be one. That he won't let them down. Words he knows they want to hear, a situation he's learned to manipulate with their training.
Today, he's perched on the edge of the hospital bed. He's carefully wiping at Touya's skin, washing him the same way he has for the last three years. Every stroke of the warm cloth over his skin is slow and gentle, mindful of what has long since healed and what is still fresh after yet another surgery. He can't do much for Touya without being a doctor, but at least he can do this. Gentle and loving in every way he touches him. When he isn't talking to Touya's unmoving body, he makes familiar soft coos. Anything to show Touya the kindness and affection he deserves even if he isn't conscious to enjoy them.
"There's a new theater in Tokyo," he explains quietly, shifting on the edge of the bed and letting one wing spread to partially hide them just the way he used to when they were both awake. A conversation just for the two of them. "It has three screens. It's supposed to be the ultimate movie goer experience. I want to take you there when you wake up. I've been saving up so we can take a trip, just the two of us. Anywhere you want to go." He presses the cloth to Touya's neck and cheek, wipes his face carefully along the healing seams of skin grafts and scars. When he's done, he sets the cloth in the bowl he'd been dipping it into, slides his hand into Touya's instead as he leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. He lingers there, eyes closed, remembering a time when he could hear Touya's voice. See those blue eyes looking back at him. One day, he hopes. One day, he'll see them again.
"I love you, Tou."