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“I’m afraid this isn’t negotiable, Hawks,” the woman says.
They are sitting in her office, Hawks’ uniform already bloodied and torn from a long day of patrolling the city. His eyes threaten to fall closed each time he blinks, and his hair is still sticky against his forehead.
“The boy has nobody,” she speaks in a flat, clipped way that leaves no room for emotion. “Besides, you’re the same age. That is why we believe you are best equipped for the task.”
Hawks tries to imagine the boy in question, alone and bedridden. He knows about mental illness from the course the commission enrolled him in, hoping to maintain his public image, but he’d never experienced it first-hand.
“You’ll visit him most days after five, once you’re finished your patrol, obviously.”
“What exactly am I supposed to do?” He questions, dumbfounded by the whole thing. What did they expect him, a twenty-something-year-old pro hero, to do? He’s not a therapist.
“Talk to him, comfort him, we don’t really care,” she scribbles something inside a journal, “we just can’t have him ending his life on our watch, that wouldn’t look good.”
Hawks’ horrified expression must be obvious, because the woman smiles at him sheepishly.
“Here’s the address,” she beams like a weight is finally being lifted from her shoulders, “don’t let me down, number two.”
She looks at him from across her desk, her eyes lifted above the tinted glasses that have slipped low on her nose. Her fingers, narrow and birdlike, tap the desk impatiently.
If she expects him to say something, Hawks doesn’t know what it is. He tries to swallow, but his throat is dry. All he can do is blink and nod and try not to dread the task all too much. He turns without a second word, heading for the door. The battered post-it note reads the name ‘Touya,’ with an address located not too far from his own residence.
After leaving the building, he sets into the sky and toward the written address. On his headphones, he plays soft music, but it doesn’t stop his heart from racing, nor the thoughts of doubt and uncertainty from plaguing his mind.
Would someone in such a state really be pleased to see him? Some self-righteous pro-hero is probably the last thing the boy wants. What if he tells him to leave, what is Hawks supposed to tell the commission then?
The apartment is small, and in a neighbourhood like this, it’s surrounded by homes occupied by families and their children. Hawks wonders how he supports himself at all, given the fact that he’s unemployed. His front porch is painfully dull, the only thing that decorates it is the old mail pouring from his mailbox. By the door is a lone potted caucus, dry and shrivelled up from a lack of care.
One knock isn’t enough to summon him. Two knocks aren’t either. Three, however, is met with a groan from the other side.
“Fuck off,” a voice says.
Great— exactly what Hawks feared. He should probably just leave.
“Hello?” He says instead, “my name is Hawks, I’m here to see Touya?”
He’s met with silence on the other side, he wonders if the guy even heard him.
The peephole darkens, he tries to ignore it, but he’s already made eye contact with the piercing blue eye on the other side. He waves sheepishly, backing away from the door with a smile. He doesn’t want to scare the boy before even getting a chance to speak with him.
To his surprise, it opens. Just a notch, allowing his snow-white hair and piercingly bright eyes to peep through. He stares at Hawks, wholeheartedly unimpressed by his presence.
“Yeah? What do you want?”
A good question, one Hawks is still asking himself. He has no idea where to begin.
“You’re Touya?”
“In the flesh.”
“I just, uh…” Hawks scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, “...wanted to check in and see if you’re holding up okay.”
“I’m fine-” Touya pulls his head away, promptly closing the small gap in the door.
“Wait!” Hawks slides his foot in before the door closes completely. He thinks he hears Touya mutter something like ‘ oh, for fucks sake’, but he’s not sure if he hears it correctly.
“I can’t leave until I know that you’re okay.”
Touya scoffs at that.
“They sent you?”
“Huh?”
“Someone was worried ‘bout me, called some heroes to do a welfare check, and now they won’t leave me be.” He opens to door wider, allowing Hawks to take in all of him. “You’re not the first to stop by.”
Touya is dressed in all black, his clothes are worn and falling from his sickly body and his skin is pasty like it hasn’t seen the light of day in months. The darkness of his room only accentuates his eyebags. His eyelids stay halfway over his eyes like he is still half asleep.
“Oh?” Hawks piques, “what happened to the rest?” He tries to look into the room behind him, but there’s not a single light or window inside to illuminate the space.
“Fucked 'em off,” Touya says simply, “you think I want fucking All Might hanging around my apartment? Trying to be my friend?”
Hawks stifles a laugh. He does have a point. But they wouldn’t really do that, right?
“I dunno, I think that could be fun. Maybe he could teach you his Texas Smash .”
“It was fucking awkward.”
“Wait,” Hawks’ laughter escapes without his permission, “you’re telling me they actually sent All Might here? I thought you were just joking.”
“It was so fucking weird, you have no idea.”
They’re both laughing now. Hawks can feel tears forming in his eyes, while Touya conceals his slight smile with the side of his hand, the sound of his giggles resembling soft hiccups.
Hawks wonders how long it’s been since he’s laughed at all.
“How ‘bout me?” He says after overcoming his short fit of giggles.
“What?”
“Would you mind me hanging around for a while?”
“Bye,” Touya doesn’t hesitate to slam the door on Hawks’ foot. It’s times like this that Hawks is thankful for his feathers. They release and push the door open out of instinct.
“What the-”
“Sorry, kid,” he opens the door completely. Soft red feathers flood into the room without Touya’s permission. It’s not what Hawks wants to do— he hates the idea of forcing someone out of their comfort zone, but at the end of the day, he has a job to get done.
“C’mon, why don’t you turn some lights on in this place?” He tries to soften the mood with a cheerful voice, but Touya is still scowling beside him like a rabid dog.
“Get the fuck out,” Touya protests, Hawks can’t see him, though. He’s too busy trying to find the light switch. He slaps the empty walls, fingers feeling for a switch. With each step he takes, he kicks an empty can or crushed box, but he kicks them aside like they’re nothing.
“Can’t do that,” he hums, “ah!”
White light blinds Touya, he squints through it, holding his palms to his face as if they could shield him from the brightness. He collapses onto his mattress in defeat, knowing he’ll never get rid of the hero now.
“Hey,” Hawks hums sheepishly, “now I can see you.”
“Fucking great,” Touya’s words are muffled through his palms, “exactly what I wanted. Thanks, hero .”
He smiles down at the boy, admiration present on his face as he takes in his distinctive features in the light.
“I like your hair,” it’s not what Hawks came here to say, not what he planned to say, but the words spill from his lips before he gets a moment to think them through. “Is the colour natural?”
Touya opens his eyes at that, taking a hand away from his face to squint at Hawks, who’s tilting his head like a bird. “Yeah,” the light causes him to wink one eye shut, “m’thinking ‘bout dyeing it, actually.”
“Oh! That’s cool, too!” Hawks takes a step closer, it’s a cautious step— like one would step around a frightened animal. He only relaxes when Touya doesn’t seem to be bothered by the movement. “I could help you do it, or even just buy you all the supplies you need.”
“Yeah, sure,” Touya shifts on his mattress, a few empty soda cans fall from the edge, but they both ignore it. “After that, will you leave?”
“S’not gonna be that easy to get rid of me, kid.”
“It worked on All Might,” Touya shrugs. Not once to his eyes lift from his feet. He instead stares at his worn socks like they’re the person he’s talking to.
Hawks moves forward, hesitantly taking a seat beside Touya on the mattress. He tucks his wings tightly against his back to keep the distance between them. The only acknowledgment Touya gives of his presence is a slight shift in the opposite direction.
“I’ll come by to see you every afternoon,” Hawks says, his tone is soft, only an octave or so above a whisper. He doesn’t need to be any louder with Touya so close to him.
“All of this is just fucking humiliating, how the fuck is this supposed to help? Look at me.” Touya says, his voice breaking slightly.
At least he’s talking to him, Hawks thinks. That has to count for something, right?
“You clearly need someone to help you out, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Within a second, a million feathers detach themselves from Hawks’ wings. They fly around the room in circles and Touya watches them like he’s fallen into a trance. His expression is one of confused frustration.
“Watch,” Hawks says as the feathers dive down into every corner of Touya’s room. A few of the red blades pull open a trash bag; the others fill the bag with pieces of idle trash. The bag fills up within seconds, and in turn, the floor, bed and tables are cleared. The room almost looks bare with nothing left to decorate. The overflowing trash bags sit in the corner, falling over once Hawks retrieves his feathers.
“Holy shit,” is all Touya can manage to splutter. His eyes water at the sight of his bare room. Hawks wonders if this is the first time he’s even seen his floor.
“Fuck, no,” his words shake, heavy with something like fear.
“Hey,” Hawks says, his hands instinctively moving to rest on Touya’s shoulder, “what’s up?”
Shit, he isn’t equipped for this at all.
“Fuck off, I don’t fucking cry,” Touya says, he almost growls it, but he does not shift away from Hawks’ hand. He buries his face into his palms, the sound of his sniffles sending daggers through Hawks’ heart.
“This isn’t right,” he muffles through wet hands.
“Do you not like it?” Hawks says. He hates this. He has no idea how to comfort him. “What’s wrong?” He worries that maybe Touya doesn’t like his room being so clean—so devoid of personality. Even if trash was the only thing decorating it, it has to be a shock to see it so bare.
Touya breathes in and holds it, as if it can hold back the floodgates. And for a moment, it works.
“I haven’t seen the floor since I moved in,” he says, breathlessly. The moment he releases his breath, he’s choking on his tears again. “It’s disgusting.”
Hawks says nothing as he pats his shoulder. He rubs circles with his index finger, so gently, Touya smiles a bit at the ticklish sensation.
“This is fucking stupid, I never cry. Why’d it have to be with you here.” There’s a certain distaste at the mention of Hawks, but the hero doesn’t take it personally.
Hawks can’t remember the last time he cried, either. He wishes he could, but for someone always on the go, always in the public eye, he’s never really provided with the opportunity.
“Bet it feels good to let it out, huh?” Hawks says. It's how he would’ve felt, at least.
Touya doesn’t speak; he laughs through a hiccup and pulls his knees to his chest. The mattress squeaks under the added weight.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he finally says. A few deep breaths in through his nose are enough to somewhat stop the tears, but the hiccups remain. Hawks pats his back before pulling his hand away. He wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable so soon. It’s only his first visit.
“How about we just hang out for a bit?” Hawks has no idea what he is doing. But a distraction has gotta help, right? “You wanna watch something on Netflix?” He removes his shoes and pulls his feet up onto the mattress. Cross-legged, he turns to face Touya.
Touya squints at him, his expression laced with suspicion, though his eyes as still red and still welling with fresh tears.
“Fine then,” Hawks rolls his eyes playfully, taking Touya’s suspicious glare as an answer to his question. “Tell me about yourself, Touya,” he asks, hoping it’s the right thing to say. But how is he supposed to know? He’s a hero, not some kid’s therapist.
“It’s okay, you can leave now,” Touya deadpans. It’s blunt, even for him.
“I-”
“Swing by tomorrow, or don’t, I don’t care,” he continues, “I get it.”
“Get what?”
“You’ve gotta do your job, no?”
Touya could have yelled at him, could have told him to leave and never come back, just like said to the other pros who visited him.
But something about Hawks is more bearable than the rest.
They’re the same age, with the same awkward mannerisms and humour; it makes the inescapable welfare checks seem just a little more bearable.
Touya knows he has no other choice, it’s either this, or they will send him to an institution, or worse, to his father. He may be an adult now, but if it means his safety, they’ll get Endeavor involved for sure.
“Well, okay,” Hawks says, slapping his thighs as he sits up. Part of him does not want to leave, for he had only just gotten comfortable (as comfortable as one could be on a mattress placed upon bare floorboards).
“What colour?” He says as he stands up.
“Huh?”
“The dye,” he slips his shoes back on, “what colour were you thinking?”
“Oh,” Touya says like he forgot about it completely, “I dunno, surprise me.”
Hawks doesn’t miss the slight curve of his lip when he speaks— as if Touya is challenging him.
“You got it.”
He leaves without a second word; he can feel Touya’s eyes on his back, but he does not turn to face him. He shuts the door so softly, he worries that he did not close it at all, but he takes off into the sky anyways.
The store is empty when Hawks arrives. He’s exhausted, longing to go home, but he can’t wait any longer. Something about such a mundane task fills him with excitement. He’s giddy and quick to move to through the aisles, a few customers turn their heads, but thankfully don’t notice his wings standing out through the shelves.
The dye section is as diverse as ever. He recognises a few labels, but opts for the more expensive ranges. Shades of crimson red stand out to him alongside dull shades of grey, and he considers them for a moment.
That is until a shade of blue-black falls from the shelf.
As if on cue, the box topples over and toward the floor. Hawks’ feathers catch it before it makes contact with the ground. He turns the box over, noticing the way the model's thick black waves in the photo reflect navy blue in the light.
It’s beautiful, he thinks, he can’t imagine how beautiful the real thing must be.
He imagines it on Touya: how it would brighten his soft complexion, how it would intensify those ocean-blue eyes of his.
He drops it into a shopping basket, and on the way out, he drops a box of chocolates and a bag of crisps inside, too.
Nobody had told him to do it, his instructions were to simply check in on the boy every second afternoon or so. But it’s the least he can do to show that he cares.
The next afternoon comes by, and Hawks drops by earlier than he needs to.
He still has office work to finish, forms to fill out, and phone calls to make, but that can wait.
Sullen clouds decorate the sky, and even at midday, the sky is dark. The passing cars drive by with their headlights on, puddles of rain splattering as they drive through them. The sky darkens even more when the rain picks up again. Heavy raindrops pelt down onto him, and he’s thankful that his uniform is mostly water-resistant.
He still has to shake his wings dry before knocking on Touya’s door. He uses one wing to shelter his hair from the rain, but the wind leaves a few droplets soaking his face and hair anyways.
He knocks again, but there’s no response. He rings the doorbell a few times, but finds that it is long broken.
“Touya?” He yells, his words mostly overpowered by the pouring rain. “It’s Hawks.”
From the crack beneath the door, Hawks sees a light turn on, a shadow is soon to follow as Touya unlocks the door.
Unlike yesterday, he opens the door completely this time. He’s still in his pyjamas: long red plaid pants and a white tee, his eyeliner still smudged from the previous day.
“You’re early,” he says, his tone confused rather than frustrated. He rubs one eye like he has just roused from a nap.
Hawks smiles, although he struggles to see through the wet hair that has fallen into his eyes. He holds up the bag, the box of dye visible through the thin plastic.
“Can I come in?”
“Guess you don’t have a choice, do you?” Touya moves from the door frame, allowing a soaked Hawks to walk in. He kicks off his shoes before they can dirty his floor.
“I do have a choice, actually,” Hawk retorts without making eye contact. He slides his jacket off and hangs it up on a vacant desk chair. Touya ignores him, instead throwing a dry towel in his direction.
“Dry off,” he deadpans.
“Thanks.”
Hawks drops the bag, and while he’s not looking, Touya snatches it.
He shifts through the contents, taking the dye first. He fights back a smile, since, the colour was exactly what he had in mind. He had been opting for black, but the addition of blue was something he had never thought of until now.
It’s perfect.
“Do you like it?” Hawks says, taking a few steps closer, his hair fluffed up and still damp on the edges from drying it with the towel. “If not, I can go back tomorrow morning, fuck, I’ll even go back now.”
Touya squints for a moment as he ponders his answer, he likes the colour, obviously, but the idea of sending the hero out into this weather is rather funny.
“Fuck, you don’t like it,” Hawks assumes at Touya’s lack of a response. He takes the box from his hands, “I knew I should have bought a few different options. I was thinking maybe a deep red, or even dark grey, what do you think? I’ll fly over now and-”
“I like it.”
Hawks stands there like he’s part of a joke he doesn’t understand, he smiles, but it’s forced.
“You do?” He says, completely bewildered, but pleased regardless.
“Mm,” Touya murmurs. The truth is, he loves it. More than anything. But he doesn’t let it show. He reaches back for the bag, shifting through the remaining contents.
The next is a box, it’s tightly packaged like the contents inside are expensive. He wonders who it’s for. Touya looks up at Hawks as if he is asking for permission to continue looking.
“Go on,” he smiles.
It’s heavier than he thought it to be, the label reading nutritional values and fancy ingredients he’s never heard of. He holds it like he doesn’t know what to do with it— like he’s touching something that isn’t his.
“For you,” Hawks says, “do you not like chocolate?”
“I don’t…” he turns the package over in his hands, “...really know.” It’s hard to say when he doesn’t even recognise any of the ingredients.
“I can go back tomorrow. I’ll stop by the store before I even start patrolling. What do you like? I can get you something warm, since it is getting kinda cold ou-”
“Why are you doing this?” Touya interrupts.
“Sorry?”
“You were asked to come here after five, just to see if I’m still breathing or whatever.” Touya puts the chocolates back in the bag. “But it’s midday, and now you’ve wasted all this money on me.”
It’s a valid question, one Hawks doesn’t quite know the answer to himself.
“I want to,” he says after a moment of hesitation, “really, I do.”
“I’m only letting you stay because I have no choice,” Touya spits, “you’re the better option of the three I still have.”
Hawks sits down on Touya’s mattress, a soft smile spread across his face like he’s amused by Touya’s hostility.
“Oh yeah? What’re the other options?” He challenges, “they must be pretty bad if you’re still tolerating me.” He jokes, but Touya doesn’t laugh.
“Yeah, they are,” Touya says, still standing above Hawks with his arms crossed, “they didn’t already tell you?”
“Nope, just got told to visit you and I did, no questions asked.”
“They’ll send me away to keep a closer eye on me.”
“Send you away? Where?” Hawks asks, and Touya is almost sure he’s joking. Doe he really not get it?
“If I can’t prove that I’m stable alone they’ll send me to an institution, or worse, my scum of a father.”
They’re silent for a moment. Touya’s scowl at the mention of his father doesn’t go unnoticed. Hawks tries to think of the right words to say, but finds his mind bare.
In a desperate attempt to fill the awkward silence, Touya reaches back for the bag, purposely ignoring the chocolates and taking out the black dye.
“Wanna dye my hair?” He says, but he regrets it almost immediately. This is going to be a long afternoon.
It’s not what Hawks expects Touya to say, but he jumps at the opportunity regardless.
“Of course I do,” his wings perk with excitement, and his pupils dilate as if on command. Touya can’t back down now, not when his birdlike traits expose just how excited he really is.
“Why’re you so excited? Don’t you have better things to be doing, hero?” Touya takes a seat beside Hawks on the mattress, carefully placing the box of dye into his lap. Hawks doesn’t hesitate to pick it up and open it immediately.
“Oh, totally,” he says as he takes out the instruction manual, “loads of paperwork back home that I just can’t wait to toil away at.”
At that, the rain picks up. The unpleasant sound of hail chunks hitting Touya’s tin roof causes him to wince; the windows shudder at the sudden increase in wind, and Touya worries that this isn’t just any old storm. His old apartment would never survive a typhoon, he’d be left in rubble.
“Sheesh, that’s heavy,” Hawks says, and oddly enough, it’s enough to cease Touya’s concerns. He doesn’t need to worry about a storm when the number two hero is sitting right beside him.
“Well, s’not like you’re flying anywhere anytime soon, birdy. You’re stuck with me.”
“How tragic,” he smiles, “now c’mere.” He tugs at Touya’s sleeve, forcing him closer. Touya does not fight it. He stifles a laugh and shifts closer to the hero, tilting his head down slightly so Hawks can reach his hair.
“Don’t you wanna get changed first? It might stain your clothes.”
Touya glances down at his pale green tee, the design on the front displays the name of some band Hawks has never heard of. It’s torn slightly at the corners, revealing portions of his pale torso.
“Nah,” he shrugs, “it’s old, anyways.” The truth is, he really can’t be bothered to change. He hardly has the energy to sit upright these days.
“Mm,” Hawks hums, his nose buried inside the instructions sheet. He tips the box and watches as a pair of plastic gloves fall out. He slips one on his right hand.
“No, wait, this isn’t right,” Hawks says.
“The hell? You can’t change your mind no-”
“I need to take a picture,” his feathers pull out his phone, “y’know, like a before and after thing.”
Hawks holds out his phone to Touya’s face, causing him to immediately scowl. On his phone case is his father’s hero name displayed in bold red front, and beside it is a goofy cartoonified version of the number one’s face. Touya wants to throw the phone against the wall, just so he doesn’t have to look at the thing.
Hawks laughs it off, blissfully unaware of the true cause of Touya’s irritation. He captures the distasteful expression and giggles, Touya only rolls his eyes at the sound of the camera shutter.
“You’re like a cat, you know?” Hawks throws his head back in laughter, holding out his phone for Touya to look at the captured memory.
He’d be lying if said he isn’t fighting back a smile. The picture is kind of funny to look at. His face is all scrunched up like he just smelt a pile of dog shit.
“You’re not even looking at the camera,” Hawks says through a fit of giggles, “what were you looking at?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Touya slaps the phone out of Hawks’ hands, “you gonna do it, or what?” Hawks allows his phone to fall to the floor and returns his attention back to the open box of dye.
“You sure about this?” He pinches a lock of Touya’s hair between his fingers, admiring the natural silkiness of it. “White’s a pretty colour. Rare, too.”
“I have my reasons,” Touya mutters, “just get it over with.”
“Whatever you say,” Hawks shrugs, “look down for me,”
Touya looks down, simply watching Hawks’ hands as he opens the dye and slips on the second clear glove. When the dye comes out of the tube, it’s navy and shimmering in the light. Touya wonders just how much the hero spent on it.
Hawks runs a hand through Touya’s hair in a last minute attempt to remove any tangles. Touya shivers at the contact, because god knows how long it’s been since someone last played with his hair.
“Here goes,” Hawks says, squeezing a small spot of the dye onto his gloved hands, “you okay?”
“Just hurry up, would you?”
On his dry hair, the dye goes in with no small amount of effort. Hawks has to work the thick paste through Touya’s thick hair— the plastic gloves only make matters more complicated. They slip and slide on his hands, causing the dye to fall into places he does not intend for it to go. Touya flinches when a spot falls onto his nose.
“Shit, sorry,” Hawks doesn’t hesitate to wipe Touya’s face with his shirt, resulting in an array of grunts and curse words from Touya.
“Screw it,” he says, pulling his hand away from Touya’s hair, “I’m ditching the gloves.”
“No, it’ll stain your skin-”
The obnoxious squelching sound of dye coming from the bottle interrupts Touya, and before he can protest, Hawks is rubbing the deep black paste between his fingers and palms.
“It’s almost like you’re trying to make a mess,” Touya stares at him like he just pissed on the floor; his nose and brows are scrunched up in sheer disgust.
Hawks continues to rub the stuff in his palms, effectively warming it up. And when his hands fall to Touya’s hair again, he massages the paste in with ease. Touya’s shoulders relax instantly at the sensation; Hawks’ fingers weave through his dry hair, rubbing the dye back and forth with delicacy.
“I wear combat gloves most days, so stained hands don’t bother me.”
“Whatever, just don’t get it on me.”
The rain outside picks up, the sound of it is almost comforting as he drowns in the feeling of his scalp being massaged. Hawks’ delicate fingers touch spots that Touya could never reach himself, not like this, at least. They glide with gentle precision, Touya wonders if maybe he’s prioritising comfort over the dyeing process, but then again, what would he know? It’s been years since someone has been so close to him, to want to be this close, let alone want to touch him.
“Your hair is really soft,” he says, his words humming softly against Touya’s ear. “I’m sorta jealous.”
“Nothing to be jealous of, birdy. I can’t remember the last time I even had enough energy to wash it.” He regrets saying it as he speaks, fearing that Hawks would be put off by his lack of hygiene.
But the hero does not seem to be bothered by it at all. He hums away in Touya’s ear, piling copious amounts of the cold dye onto Touya’s head and working it in softly.
“Yeah, it gets like that,” he simply hums. “You know, some days I’m too tired to even take my uniform off.”
“What? So you just show up the next day in the same clothes?”
“Pretty much,” Hawks chuckles, it’s bittersweet in the way he holds back slightly— like he is ashamed to admit such a thing. “They’ll just get dirty again, so who gives, really?”
“They need to give you a break instead of sending on nonsensical side quests like this. You should be home by now, resting, not here.”
“Believe it or not, I think I’d rather be here,” he shrugs, Touya feels it when he tugs on his hair slightly. “S’not much waiting for me back home. A hot mug of coffee, sure, maybe a even good book or two, but only if I’m lucky enough to gather the focus for it. It’s whatever. I think I’d prefer to sleep the world away, instead.”
Their similarities are uncanny, Touya thinks. Who would have thought the number two hero was so comparable to someone as low as him?
“Yeah. I get it.”
Hawks continues to hum, rubbing sections of Touya’s hair between his palms to casually work the dye through as if he didn’t just exhibit symptoms of being unwell himself.
One flash of lightning is all it takes for Hawks to spill dye on Touya’s face. Between the flash and the booming sound, there is no warning. Touya’s whole body jolts, bumping Hawks’ dye-covered hand away from his head. He pulls his arms in front of his body out of instinct, as if such a defence mechanism could protect him from the thunder.
“Woah,” Hawks laughs, “you good?”
Touya opens his eyes to see Hawks covered in the stuff. The hero squints one eye closed to stop the black smudge from leaking into his eye, but his right eyebrow and eyelashes are covered.
“Shit, I’m-” Touya’s hands are shaking now, and suddenly, the world feels too small for him. The dye on his head is cold, too cold, pressing his hair flat against his skull. It’s suffocating. The sound of thunder still echoes in his head like it is still there.
“M’sorry,” his voice trembles, “l don’t like the sound.” He scratches at his head, ignoring the dye that catches beneath his fingernails. Dye-covered strands fall out of place and onto his forehead, leaving faint black smudges on his skin. “Stupid fucking dye, this was a stupid fucking ide-”
“Hey, no,” Hawks takes his hand, stopping him from messing with the dye any further, “It’s okay.” He tilts his head to the side to meet Touya’s gaze, despite feeling silly with one of his eyes closed. He fears that he’ll be blinded if he opens it.
The thunder sounds again. It’s not as loud as the previous strike, but loud enough to make Touya flinch. Hawks squeezes his hand tighter. The feeling of cold dye between their hands makes Touya cringe, but he returns the squeeze as if to say thank you.
“Most of the dye is in now, we just have to let it sit for a while, okay?”
Lighting flashes through the window again. Touya squints and braces for the sound, but it never comes.
“You’re okay,” Hawks squeezes again, not once does he break eye contact with Touya. “I’m here.”
“I got dye on you,” Touya’s voice is barely a whisper, shaky like he could cry again. “You should wash it off before it sets in.”
“Maybe I wanna match,” he shrugs.
“Don’t be stupid. Why would you want half a black eyebrow?”
“C’mon, you don’t wanna match with me?”
The delayed boom from a lightning strike sounds in the distance and Touya sighs. The rain continues to belt against the windows as the wind carries it, but at least the hail has stopped.
“Here,” one of Hawks’ feathers detaches from his wings and swoops down to retrieve the plastic bag on the floor. It pours the contents of the bag onto Touya’s lap.
“Eat,” Hawks says, the same feather tears open the bag of crisps, swiftly taking one and placing it at Touya’s lips. He takes it reluctantly, but only after watching Hawks eat one, too.
Even now that the dye is ready to come out, the storm still has not ceased. If anything, the booming sounds are only growing louder. Touya tries to ignore them, but his firm grip on Hawks’ hand is starting to become sweaty, and his arm fell asleep nearly twenty minutes ago.
“I need to wash this shit out,” he groans, “it’s already been in there too long.”
Hawks sighs, knowing Touya does not want to do it alone.
“I’ll help you-”
“No,” Touya shuts him down immediately, knowing the only way for him to wash the dye out is by showering.
“You’re shaking, I’m not leaving you,” Hawks assures. It’s his job to protect, after all. He watches as Touya contemplates his options, the cogs turning in his brain visible in his expression.
“How about I stand outside,” Hawks says, “face to the wall, I’ll keep you company.” His right eye is still forced closed by the dye, and if anything, he just wants to get it over with so he can wash it out.
Touya only nods, a pink blush decorating his pale cheeks.
“I’m trusting you,” he eventually says, he tries to stand up, but finds himself too dizzy. Hawks supports him before he can fall.
“I’m a hero, you can trust me,” Hawks says like it’s assumed knowledge. Touya leans into his embrace as he waits for the dizzy spell to pass. He should probably start eating better, he thinks.
“Dunno, trusted heroes before, didn’t go as planned,” he scowls once he can see straight again.
Hawks furrows his eyebrows at that, but doesn’t push him further, because judging by his tone, he doesn’t seem too fond of elaborating. He guides Touya to the bathroom, shutting the door behind them. He’s surprised at how well it shuts out the sound of the storm. The thunder sounds dull through the tiled walls.
Hawks reaches over Touya to turn the hot water on, some of it sprays into his face, but he lets it.
“Turn away,” Touya grumbles, his voice ridden his embarrassment as he tries to shift away. But when a flash of lightning peeks through the window, he’s clutching onto Hawks again.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Hawks moves away, but not once does he let go of Touya’s shaking hand. He slides down onto the floor with his back to the running water. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere.” He ignores the way his eye is beginning to burn from the dye, and the way his hand aches from stretching in such an awkward manner to reach Touya. He endures it all for his comfort.
Touya slides his shirt off with his one free hand. It’s a difficult process, but he’d rather endure it than go without the warm comfort of Hawks’ larger hand wrapped around his. He only lets it go for a second before throwing his shirt to the other side of the room. He’d remove his pants, but figures it’s not worth the effort when all he needs to do is tilt his head under the water.
He allows the hot water to fall over his head, and the water beneath him quickly becomes black with dye. He uses his free hand to shake the rest of it away. And even as the thunder strikes again and again, he’s not bothered, he only squeezes Hawks’ hand tight and focuses on the task at hand.
While Touya dries off, Hawks scrubs at his eyebrow and lashes. Cold water is enough to cease the burning, but the dye remains permanent. The change is subtle, but certainly noticeable. Half of his eyebrow remains golden, with the rest painted a deep black.
“Looks good,” Touya says with a towel in his face. He rubs it against his wet hair, shaking the last of the water from it.
“Look at you,” Hawks says. He stops to pause a moment, for the boy standing next to him glows differently from before. The black makes his eyes even brighter, if that’s even possible, and his smile is even more pronounced. Something tells him it’s not the dye doing that.
“I’m nervous,” Touya says with a slight chuckle.
“Well, no going back now.”
“I know.”
Hawks takes him by the hand again, pulling him toward the sink counter.
In the bathroom mirror, the reflection that stares back at him is unfamiliar; it’s the face of someone reborn new. He no longer sees his mother in his face; the soft fragility that reminded him of how easily she was broken. His eyes, the ones that reflected the burning rage of his father, could probably use some contacts, but hey, it’s a start.
Under the white light, the black reflects blue. His silky hair looks navy like that of sapphire, glistening like it, too.
“Picture time,” Hawks immediately chirps from behind him. Touya turns to face him despite dreading it.
“Yeah, do me a favour and take that phone case off first though.”
Hawks squints, but does not question him. He removes the case and throws it to the other side of the room. It lands with a smash.
“Smile,” he says, hardly giving Touya a chance to react before the flash blinds him. Touya does as he is asked, despite the expression feeling unnatural.
“Wow,” Hawks says under his breath, “It’s so… you.” He holds the phone close to his face, just to take in the photo. Touya glances over and cringes at it.
“You hardly know me.”
“I’d like to, though.”
And as the storm rages on, he starts to hope that it never ends, just so he can stay in this moment forever.