contrary to popular belief Keigo is fucking broke
“Sorry,” was the first word Hawks heard crackling through the receiver. Your voice. So soft and light and warm against the chill in his bones, but it wasn't you. It was your voicemail, which he’d memorized over the last several days. “I can’t come to the phone right now! Please leave your name and—” He hung up, swiped his card again, then clicked another number into the metal keys. Your desk phone. “Hello!” The tightness in his heart immediately loosened. “Oh,” he sighed. “I'm glad I finally—” “You’ve reached Hawks’ PA office, please leave your—” He groaned, hung up, and swiped his card again. His breath fogged the air as he typed another number. His own phone that he handed to you on the train. “Come on,” he muttered, chanting to himself as he listened to it ring. “Pick up, Angel. Pick up.” “Heyo! Ya missed me!” His own voice chimed back. He slammed the phone back onto its hook, killing the line, then expelled a long breath. He’d borrowed many cellphones in the last few days, all were failed attempts to reach you. You should have been back in Fukuoka days ago. Anxiety prickled up the back of his neck, and his wings puffed against their covers. You were tough. Surely, wherever you were, you were okay. Surely. Defeated, he swiped his card again. Declined. The word flashed through the garbled display, barely legible. But legible enough for his stomach to drop. “Fuck, what?” he groaned. “I had like, three thousand yen—” His attention shifted to the six pack between his feet. Right. Despite the illustrious image PR had built around him, Hawks was never a rich man. Madam wrote his contract when he was only fourteen. He was old enough to sign, but not old enough to understand how it would further imprison him. It allowed just enough to live, but never enough to stop needing her. He finally got out of it, after she died. But severing the last of his ties to Mera meant giving up his new contract, and those commission checks dried up entirely. Everything he had left went into reopening the agency. Everything he'd earned since was poured right back into keeping the lights on without the commission's subsidies. He had just enough to feed himself and his bad habits. But not enough for another phone call.
