## Preface

Bad Habit
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/24379237.

Rating:
  Explicit
Archive Warning:
  No Archive Warnings Apply
Category:
  M/M
Fandom:
  僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Relationship:
  Dabi | Todoroki Touya/Takami Keigo | Hawks
Characters:
  Takami Keigo | Hawks, Dabi | Todoroki Touya
Additional Tags:
  Post Chapter 266, Longing, Hate Sex, Dabi is Bad at Feelings (My Hero Academia), Angst, Angst and Feels, Pigeon Verse, I cried way too much writing that one
Language:
  English
Series:
  Part 14 of Pigeon Verse
Stats:
  Published: 2020-05-25 Words: 3,176 Chapters: 1/1

# Bad Habit

by EloFromMars

Summary

> Keigo is like a bad habit Dabi can't get rid of.

Notes

> Here comes more pain, as if it was not enough already.

> Takes place after the Last Feather and For I am sick of love, by my good Gremlin Markovia.

> I strongly recommend you to listen to Bad Habit | Ben Platt. It inspired that whole piece.

> A big thank you to my Chocobabe for the betaing <3

> Enjoy <3

See the end of the work for more notes

## Bad Habit

Dabi stares at the dark ceiling, listening to the shuffle of the city, of the other members of the Violet Squad moving outside of his bedroom. It’s still early but he wants to sleep. He needs to sleep. What he doesn’t want is the fucked-up dreams that haunt him every time he manages to doze off, every night since—

He rolls on his side and stares at the flitting light of the neon sign on the other side of the street. He curls on the shitty mattress, missing—

The twist in his gut is painful. His throat tightens; the swell behind his eyes, pulling taught on the scar tissue under his eyes, is impossible to relieve.

He wants to convince himself that he doesn’t care. His life doesn’t matter. It doesn’t. He is just a bad habit Dabi has to overcome and move on.

The hook under his ribs sinks deeper, anchoring him to the past. To what could have been. It carves his flesh like a vulture, like the crow torturing Prometheus, day after night after day. The strings pull and tug, and Dabi wants to scream in his pillow.

As if acting of its own volition, his hand reaches toward the nightstand. Like an addict fumbling for a smoke, like a child reaching for his favorite teddy bear, he picks up the feather on his nightstand and cradles it against his chest, curling around it in a fetal position.

At first, it was just a way to hurt him more, to make him pay. Now? Now it’s—

When Dabi decided to see him that day, he was dead set on burning the last strings, getting rid of the lingering feelings. He hoped that Hawks would take back the feather and cure him of his stupid addiction.

That seeing him one last time would give him the closure he needed to move on.

Except it didn’t. Hawks—

Keigo.

Keigo looked so small with his empty back. Small. Defeated. Exhausted. The golden eyes were dull, lifeless, deprived of that light Dabi fell for.

The fluffy locks Dabi petted so many times hung sadly around his emaciated face.

Dabi did that to him.

But Hawks betrayed him. Betrayed them. Ruined his plans. So why would Dabi care?

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t.

He grits his teeth, presses the palms of his hands against his eye sockets, in the vain hope that he might relieve a bit of tension. The feather brushes against his forehead, like a phantom kiss. He feels the ghost of a wing brushing his frame, the sturdy warmth of a body against his back, the softness of black fur under his chin.

Just hold it and I’ll know you need me.

So where are you now?

Another lie. Another lie Dabi shouldn’t hold on to. The fire under his skin simmers, clawing for release, fueled by anger at himself, at Hawks.

Dabi grips the bitter, burning feeling like a drowning man grips a lifeline. Everything has been a lie. They were cursed from day one. Dabi knew it. He knew it. It was just an illusion. A dream. A play-pretend that became a bit too real. A fantasy that both of them were too stupid or too desperate to end in time.

From the start, all he did was lie and lie and lie. But god, did Dabi love those lies. How hard he fell for that golden tongue, for the sweet words whispered in the dead of night, for the lingering touches and silent attention.

Dabi despises his own weakness. He knew it would happen and still. Still. He clung to those few months of normalcy, the feeling of belonging somewhere, of having a home . Of just being happy for once in his goddamn life.

You’re a failure. You will always be a failure. You’re weak, Touya, in body and mind.

The old demons gnaw at his mind and he presses the feather against his lips, trying to find comfort in the touch, as he did a few weeks ago, when everything was still okay. Before they both ruined everything with blood, fury, and fire.

The walls of his tiny room seem to close in on him. He needs air. He needs space. He needs to get out. He leaves the bed, legs feeling like goo, and shoulders on a jacket. The living room is still brightly lit, too brightly after the darkness of his bedroom. He ignores the people here—they don’t matter—and makes a beeline for the door.

“Where are you going?”

Geten’s voice grates in his ears like nails on a chalkboard. He doesn’t spare him a single glance, yanking the door open. “None of your business.”

“Dabi, you can’t—”

The rest of his tirade is lost to Dabi’s ears. He climbs down the stairs, his fingers still brushing along the soft feather. He doesn’t pay attention to where he goes; it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t know how long he walks for. Only the ache in his legs gives him a hint that it’s been a while. That and the fact that he crosses the paths of fewer and fewer people. His mind drifts and plays the movie of soft mornings and long nights, of quiet days forever lost.

He only stops walking when he arrives at the entrance of a familiar back alley, next to a familiar konbini, in a familiar neighborhood. Of course he would come back here. He stares at the dark path, blood rushing in his ears, heart hammering hard in his chest. The hook under his ribs pulls and pulls, relentless.

His fingers clench around the feather and the feel is grounding. Dabi takes a tentative step in the dark alley, then a second, and a third, and before he knows it, he’s rushing down the path he walked so many times.

The door code hasn’t changed.

The elevator is still as slow as always.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say.

The rational part of his mind tells him that it’s the stupidest decision he’s ever made and God knows he’s made a few.

But Dabi needs to see him again.

Why? Who the fuck knows? It’s not going to solve anything. Will probably make things worse for them both.

He should just turn around and move on with his life, refocus on his goal, power through the pain like he always does until he drops dead.

The hook under his ribs seems to tug harder as he comes closer to the massive door separating him from home.

His heart clenches as he hears the muffled mewling and scratches against the wood.

The door is yanked open and his brain doesn’t have the time to register anything. Claws are sinking into his leg and a fist connects with his face at the same time.

He stumbles back with a pained hiss and meets a furious golden glare through watery eyes.

He chuckles, rubbing his bruised cheek. “Guess it was overdue. I’m surprised it took you so long.”

Keigo stares at him, a bit of his usual fire glowing in his eyes. “You have some guts to come back here.”

Dabi reaches for Pigeon, who’s still trying to climb his leg with desperate meows. The cat bumps her head against his chin almost violently, the yelling turned into deep purrs.

“The fuck do you want?”

Dabi scratches Pigeon between the ears, half of his face buried in her soft fur, relishing the scent of his cat, of home. “Hell if I know. Let me in?”

Keigo looks at him with something close to bafflement and slams the door shut. But now that he’s here, Dabi doesn’t want to leave. He raps his knuckles against the wooden panel.

“C’mon, you’re not going to leave Pigeon outside like this.”

There’s no sound indicating Keigo is still here, but deep down, Dabi knows that he’s listening. “Let us in, birdie.”

He realizes his mishap as soon as the word falls from his lips but it’s too late to take it back. The door opens again and the feather tucked in his pocket now floats in front of his face, sharp and deadly: the last relic of Hawks’ former arsenal.

The look of absolute hurt on his pale face is heartbreaking and Dabi has a hard time holding his gaze. “I should slit your throat here and now,” Keigo croaks.

Dabi steels his heart and steps forward, the feather close to his scarred skin. “Then do it.”

The sharp edge of the feather presses against Dabi and he doesn’t flinch; his eyes never leave Keigo’s.

He takes another step forward, unable to resist the pull that brought him here. From this close, he sees the dark circles under Keigo’s eyes, the wrinkled skin marring the right side of his face, how the gold of his right eye is paler than the left one. He leans closer, almost close enough to touch.

“Do it.”

Keigo looks at him with wide eyes, lips curled in a feral grimace.

“Do it.” Dabi can smell the fragrance of Keigo’s shower gel, and it triggers a new wave of longing, even though the man is standing right in front of him.

Time seems to slow down and stall. Dabi drowns in those eyes, reading all the conflict in them like an open book. It’s painful but Dabi can’t look away. Doesn’t want to look away. He’s so close that he can feel Keigo’s erratic breath against his skin. The hook under his ribs pulls, but Dabi stays still.

The fleeting moment is broken when a hand fists in his shirt to yank him closer and a pair of lips crashed against his. With something close to desperation, Dabi answers in kind. He presses forward and closes the door with his foot. Pigeon escapes his arms with an offended meow and Dabi smiles against the mouth ravaging his. His freed hands find their rightful place around Keigo’s waist and pull him closer. He needs to touch the smooth skin, to get their heartbeats to synchronize again. Keigo groans against his mouth and Dabi drinks in the sound, relief washing over him, like a junkie finally getting his fix. He hates the feeling as much as he loves it.

This kiss is the most violent one they’ve ever shared. It’s teeth and angry tongue shoved in the other’s mouth, it’s fingers tangling in hair and tugging hard, it’s a symphony of groans and insults.

Dabi doesn’t mind. The hook has finally stopped tugging so painfully. Something settles in his chest and he hoists Keigo in his arms. Keigo doesn’t fight him, legs immediately wrapping around his waist. They don’t break the kiss for one second, their lips glued to each other by a visceral need, unable to let go. Dabi finds the way to the bedroom without having to think, avoiding the stools near the counter, going around the couch without bumping into it, guided by his muscle memory only.

He drops Keigo’s light—too light—body on the unmade bed. He follows, crawling between his legs to kiss him again. Strong thighs wrap around his waist once more and he yelps in surprise when he’s rolled onto his back, a firm weight pressed against his crotch. Keigo’s eyes seem to glow as he looks down at him. The bedroom is only lit by the street lights, making Keigo’s expression hard to read, but Dabi can’t look away, drinking in the sight he’s been longing for all these weeks.

Keigo forces a knee between Dabi’s legs and tears the sweatpants apart with his talons, the fabric yielding under his sharp claws like it’s nothing. The tips graze against the healthy skin of Dabi’s thighs, and Dabi hisses at the burning sensation. Keigo hushes him with another kiss, grinding against Dabi’s hardening length. Dabi buries his hands in blond strands and tugs harshly. The groan it drags from Keigo only fuels Dabi’s need. He rolls his hips up, and the friction of Keigo’s shorts against his skin is maddening. But it’s not enough. He wants more. He needs more.

Keigo seems to share his opinion and moves away to get rid of his shorts. Dabi doesn’t avert his eyes, not for a single second. His body is burning, the craving to have Keigo on him almost painful.

Keigo leans forward for another aggressive kiss. Their hard lengths touch and Dabi groans, back arching at the familiar sensation. His hands find their way to Keigo’s back, except there’s nothing to grab, nothing to touch, no soft feathers against his fingertips. There is just the fabric of an oversized shirt, and his heart clenches with something close to guilt.

The feeling is quickly forgotten when Keigo shifts to grab the bottle of lube on the nightstand. Dabi parts his legs wider as Keigo strokes himself to full hardness.

Their eyes never leave each other.

Keigo lifts Dabi’s hips up and rams into him without any gentleness. The air leaves Dabi’s lungs, his fingers tug harshly on Keigo’s hair. The intrusion is painful but Dabi clings tighter to the man rutting into him. He doesn’t want to let go. He can’t let go.

Teeth sink into the meat of his shoulder, talons dig into the unscarred flesh of his ass, and his screams mingle with Keigo’s breathless gasps.

There’s no tenderness, no sweet nothings whispered in his ear, but Dabi still feels like he’s where he’s supposed to be. Despite the violence of it all, Keigo knows exactly how to send him to cloud nine, finally shutting down his brain and settling the pain in his heart.

The stupidity of it all floats at the back of his pleasure-addled mind, but he’s too far gone to grab that thought. Keigo is everywhere, surrounding Dabi with his presence, his scent, the burning feeling of his body on him and inside him.

The release for both of them does not take long to come. Keigo slumps on top of him, breath labored, but Dabi doesn’t let go. He remains wrapped around the other man like a vine, eyes fluttering closed as he tries to catch his breath.

He hates how much he missed this. How easily Keigo chased the loneliness and the longing away. Even without his wings, it feels like he’s shielding Dabi from the rest of the world, something no one has managed to make him feel since his mother—

Dabi is peaceful again.

Keigo shifts and pulls out. “Let me go.”

The moment of peace is over. Dabi unwraps his arms and legs with reluctance. Keigo rolls on his side, his back to Dabi.

Dabi stares at the ceiling, following the patterns of the night lights on the white paint. A soft weight climbs on his stomach and his fingers find the silky fur of a purring cat.

“You should go.”

Dabi stills. He turns his head to the side, looking at Keigo’s curled-up frame. He looks so small, almost vulnerable.

“I don’t think I want to do that.”

“Do you think I care about what you want or don’t want?”

There’s so much lassitude in his voice, Dabi can feel it in his bones. He sighs and moves Pigeon onto the pillows.

He rolls on his side and reaches for Keigo’s back. He grabs the t-shirt between his thumb and index finger. “We fucked up, didn’t we?”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Keigo seems to fold in on himself even more. “Just go.”

“Like I said, I don’t want to.”

Keigo wraps his head in his arms. “What do you want with me in the end?” The voice is broken, almost a wail, heart-wrenching and pitiful. “Just leave me be.”

Dabi swallows the hard lump in his throat. He scoots closer and pulls Keigo against his chest, nuzzling the blond hair. “I’ll go in the morning. Just one last night.” He tightens his embrace. “Just the one.”

Keigo doesn’t answer but he uncurls enough to allow Dabi to tangle their legs together. Pigeon jumps on Dabi’s rib side and makes herself comfortable. It feels right. It feels almost normal. And Dabi falls into a deep slumber, the first one since—

The familiar sound of a blaring alarm rouses him and Dabi fumbles to shut it down. Like he always does. It takes him a few seconds to remember that it’s not another normal morning. The weight of everything that happened falls on his chest like a ton of lead. He pushes the painful feeling away for now and curls around the man between his arms. Keigo hasn’t moved a single muscle, save for his hand now clutched around Dabi’s. Dabi tries to disentangle himself without waking him up but fails. Keigo’s eyes open but he doesn’t move.

“If you want me to leave, you’ll have to let go,” Dabi says quietly, hating every word. As selfish and stupid as it sounds, Dabi doesn’t want to leave. He doesn’t want to let go. He doesn’t want Keigo to let go.

The grip around his hand doesn’t weaken.

Dabi flops back on the pillows, his free hand stroking the messy blond strands. They’re not as soft as they used to be.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.” Keigo’s voice is barely above a whisper.

“I know.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oh really? You could have fooled me.”

Dabi stares at the numbers on the clock. 7:02. The usual time for Keigo to wake up. He sighs, slotting his body even closer against Keigo’s empty back. “You’re not the only one that has been fooled.”

There’s a bit of silence. Dabi can feel Keigo’s heartbeat against his palm.

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” The confession is hushed, murmured with a small voice. Dabi doesn’t think he’s ever heard Keigo so...scared?

Dabi nuzzles the blond hair, thoughtful. He’s not good at giving life lessons. He’s barely able to figure out his own bullshit. And given what happened between them, he’s probably the worst person to give Keigo’s advice. But at the same time, he can’t remain silent. “What about living?”

Keigo doesn’t answer immediately. The clock reads 7:05. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t have any more obligations, Keigo. No more responsibilities, no more duties, no more secret missions, or whatever bullshit heroes do.”

“So what?”

“I don’t know. You’ll have to use your big brain to figure it out. You’re free now.”

Keigo lets go of his hand and rolls on his side to face Dabi. They stare at each other in silence.

7:07.

Dabi cups Keigo’s cheek, running a thumb on the scarred tissue. Keigo’s eyes close and a very quiet, very shaky sigh escapes his lips.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

Keigo tucks his head under Dabi’s chin, squeezing him tight. “I really do.”

7:08.

Dabi presses his cheek on the mop of blond hair. “I know.”

## Afterword

End Notes

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