#i coudlve just gone all the way to the angst

[loyally-unfaithful]

—; hey, i don’t need any love or future , (3)

word count: 3.1k

pairing: sky high | keith goodman/gn!reader

genre: angst, hurt-no-comfort

summary: even if it meant that he spent more time away from you, than with  you—for the safety of everyone living in this city, including you, he will keep going. if it were to protect everyone here, if it were to protect you, he will keep going. for your smile, for your laughter, his sun.

if it were for your happiness, he will keep going.  

a/n: i have literally never written an action scene send help ,,,, there is only so many ways for me to describe air in a threatening way dkslfjalkfjand

also, wiki says sky high's hobby includes thinking,,,, hmmm he thonking

he is surprisingly perceptive and oblivious at once, in equal measures, scary haha

he was heading home, so how did he even get here in the first place?

he’s not as naive as people may think. sure, he has his moments; sure, his airheadedness may have been an integral part of his personality. perhaps keith could even be qualified as foolishly optimistic. but the hero’s occasional obliviousness is what made him him, it was what made him charming. it was what endeared him to you. but clueless and lacking tact he was not. it was hard to be when one has been in the industry for as long as he has. certes, he may not have as many years under his belt as wild tiger or rock bison, but he has gone through his fair share of rodeos. enough time for the novelty and the lustre to wear off. enough times for him to get acquainted with the notion that being a hero isn’t all that simple and evident—not that the blond was looking for an easy way to further his own reputation or to revel in the limelight. but after enough times, once the glitter and sparkle has worn off, the personal sacrifices made often outweighed what was won as the career grew to become increasingly demanding.

it isn’t just as easy as appealing to sponsors and scoring points. it’s not just as effortless as repeating the speech you prepared beforehand and rehearsed out loud in front of your own reflection. it isn’t just a matter of apprehending “bad guys”, branding yourself as the paragon of virtue and justice by capturing what people would label as scums. after all, he knows better than to assume that right and wrong, good and bad, are two clear cut binaries. the world isn’t black and white, the world isn’t as easily divided into two groups—those who are right and those are wrong, those who are good and those who are evil—as he may have naively thought when he began his career. it’s cliche’d, it’s overused, it’s been repeated so often that it has lost its meaning and has become redundant: the world is every shade of grey, every criminal that he captures all have their circumstances, everyone has their reasons. sure, some are out only due to a wanton lust for chaos, but it would be unjust and unwise to assume that every thief, every con artist, every murderer, are the same.

that’s why the hero wants to give all of them the benefit of the doubt, offer them a second chance, or a third, or how many times it takes for them to redeem themselves.

the evening had not been that different for the hero: he too longed to be back by your side, much preferring to spend the night differently. glancing at the clock on his hud, the blond figured that you would be asleep. you were waiting back at home. faintly, a smile appeared on his face. with a subtle shake of his head, he pushed away his selfish desires and willed himself to focus on the task at hand, attentively watching over this city. to his surprise, but not his displeasure, the patrol had proved itself to be unusually uneventful and rather dull, marked by an incredible lack of events or occurrences that required his intervention. no criminals to be seen, no signs of any incidents occurring. even if it was dull, it comforted the hero that he didn’t have to act: it meant that everything was alright. pleased with what he had seen so far, he decided to turn around and head back to his flat, calling it a night.

he was heading home, so how did he even get here in the first place?

his patrol was about to come to an end without much fanfare when he caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure lurking in an abandoned construction site near his apartment in the corner of his eye. for the most part, the person’s identity was concealed by the all-consuming darkness and were it not for the built-in night vision in his helmet he would’ve never noticed them. the unknown figure’s movements were precise, too precise, purposeful as they silently jumped from platform to platform and expertly navigated the unfinished building. from where he flew, the only thing visible to him was their back, but something about the way they manoeuvred around the rubble, about the way they kept glancing side to side to observe their surroundings, made them suspicious. deciding that they were worth keeping an eye on, the hero moved cautiously, quietly, and sought to increase the distance from them to observe them from afar, as the figure was already on high alert. it was tricky, but he tried to get a better look at the questionable person, and perhaps even discern their identity, without alerting them. pivoting to the right angle, he caught sight of their face and though hidden behind his helmet, his eyes widened in recognition: that mask!

« stop right there! »

halting in their sprint across the beam, the figure abruptly swiveled their head in time to catch sight of and dodge a particularly vicious whirlwind. their combat boots skidded loudly on the concrete as they landed on a roof. dust settled back on the floor after being disturbed by the person’s display of acrobatics. from their slightly crouched position, the person slowly lifted their gaze at their attacker. whatever light the moon provided illuminated the figure, bathing them in an eerie blue glow, and the hero was finally able to get a clear look at the individual, which confirmed his suspicions. there was no mistake: the silver gas mask, the crimson symbol running down its left-hand side. there was no mistake.

« intercessor! he called out, loud and clear. »

though they never called themselves such, criminals and law enforcement members alike dubbed them so because of the type of operation they engaged in: serving as the bridge, a mediator, between gangs and criminal groups; offering them resources and intel; smuggling out weaponry and equipment, or even providing information on other organisations, locations, or heroes. a bit of an outlier, the criminal has only just recently appeared in the public eye, but has never made any attempt to involve themselves with the general public, avoiding from being seen for too long or to even reveal the alias they went under. despite their recent emergence, it’s been assumed that they’ve been active for at least a few years—if the testimony of captured criminals and graffiti of their symbol, the same symbol as the one on their mask, a stylised illustration of an open eye with a streak of red paint (perhaps representing a tear), were anything to go by.

though it had been nothing but a hunch, something about the criminal was very familiar to him. something about the way they moved and fought reminded the hero of a case he had been assigned to earlier in his career. but the two did share any other resemblance beyond that, so he pushed that observation to the back of his mind.

on a surface level, it seemed like they were harmless as most of their operations were covert, never directly endangering the city, but they would ultimately compromise its safety as they indirectly aid more malicious criminals in their goals. the hero frowned behind his mask. for that reason, they must be stopped before that happens.

« now that i am here, your villainy has come to an end! »

the hero warned them, making his voice be heard. even when the cameras were not on him, he unconsciously followed the dramatic performance he had practiced over and over, and assumed a dramatic stance, one hand on his hips and the other pointing at the criminal in question, attempting to exert pressure to make them give up without putting up a fight.

« a hero? the criminal’s distorted voice echoed discordantly, unfazed. leave me be, static reverbated harshly in the empty building as they ordered him. i’m not looking for a confrontation. »

their words coincided with their established modus operandi: operating under the darkness, out of sight, and escaping if they were to be spotted, rather than seeking out confrontation. however, despite their stated disinterest in engaging the hero in a fight, they poised their hands and prepared themselves to retaliate. momentarily taking a blue glow, they summoned two strong gusts of wind of their own and released them on the waiting hero. despite the ferocity of the attack, he easily evaded them with the help of his jet pack and advantageous position. the criminal clicked their tongue, annoyed at their failed frontal attack.

as expected, despite their shared next power, it seemed that the criminal was not as experienced as their opponent—both in terms of handling their ability and combat experience, they fell short. frustrated, they lifted their arms once more and made it clear that they were determined to continue their assault until the hero left them alone. swinging their arm up, they commanded a vortex to strike the hero, managing to graze his arm. shrugging it off, he created a strong blast and asked them to stand down. they sidestepped, and returned the hero’s attack. the latter dodged it with ease.

« it would do you well to give up. he cautioned, striking his signature salute. my greatest wind velocity for today is at an all-time high! »

warning going unheeded, the dodger concentrated the air around their palm into a compact sphere, forcing the volatile energy into a small projectile waiting to be released. and released it will be, as they threw shot after shot at the hero. soot momentarily obscured both of their sight, their attack stirring the dusty ground under them. as it cleared, the criminal was pleased to see that at least some of their blasts landed.

« try me. they sneered. »

if only they would make it easier for the both of them and give up.

the hero resigned himself to a lengthy altercation—it seemed he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his promise, and he hoped you wouldn’t notice that he would be back later than usual—and gave his own reply to their challenge, taking the form of two columns of air which twisted dangerously fast towards the intercessor. despite the viciousness of the attack, the criminal still managed to avoid getting caught by the skin of their teeth. recovering quickly, they repeated their previous attack, though it failed to work as well as the first time, which had caught him slightly off guard. he didn’t know what the thief thought was going to happen, attacking him head on like that.

nevertheless, he chalked it up to inexperience and dived to apprehend them.

backstepping, they summoned an upward wind to throw off the hero. despite being blocked momentarily, he continued to pursue them all the while making attacks of his own. but somehow, they manage to evade him, leaping out of his way. the blond’s persistence paid off as the dodger made a displeased sound as they took in their predicament, forced to go on the defensive. preoccupied with manipulating the air around them to make a makeshift shield, they could no longer attempt to run. it seemed as if their attempt to throw him off did not work to dissuade him but neither did his tenacity at convincing them to give up, and both were now at a standstill—their shared ability nullifying their attacks: as he’d attempt to catch them, they’d parry him. as they attempt to push him away, he’ll bolt out of their way. they continued this performance, as if they memorised their role on the stage perfectly.

but at last, as they tried to maintain their distance, the criminal managed to push the hero farther back away from them with an especially violent swat and, thinking that the extra distance afforded them more time, the intercessor caved under the pressure and started to attack erratically, overwhelmed by the increasing need to escape.

this was his chance!

while his opponent was flustered, he will capture them and call the authorities, who will take care of the issue from there.

lowering his guard, the hero ambitiously descended to capture the villain. making something that sounded like a laugh, the thief created a large barrier around them, an arc of powerful wind that violently threw the hero back. the hero’s balance having been thrown off, they feigned a head on attack which the former automatically blocked. his attention drawn elsewhere, they prepared a second vortex which took the blond by surprise.

were they faking their incompetence and making amateur mistakes on purpose? then that erratic onslaught was intentional… it was a lure and he fell for it. the rough winds buffeted him, and he rushed to recover.

the criminal flinched slightly as the attack connected, taken aback that the tactic had worked and that they had managed to actually injure the hero, but soon precipitated to take advantage of the hero’s current predicament.

« perhaps it’d do you well to not underestimate your opponents… they taunted, saving face. »

seeing that the hero was stunned, the intercessor took it as a chance to escape and resumed their sprint through the unfinished apartment complex. throwing caution to the wind, they ran without looking back, hoping to lose the hero as they dashed over to a particularly dark corner.

« i don’t intend to let you go! »

seeing as they had exploited the hero’s lowered defense, they shouldn’t have brought theirs down so easily: his voice carried in the empty air surrounding them, and the criminal picked up their speed—not expecting the hero to shake off the attack so quickly. however, as they climbed on a particularly unsteady beam, the hero went through with their threat, which took the form of a large ball of ferocious air that he slammed on his opponent. in a vain attempt to dodge the new onslaught of vicious attacks, the thief slipped and lost their footing, crashing down a few stories without much grace.

« alright… »

he tried to boost his own spirit, exhaustion getting the best of him, but knows that he hasn’t won yet. he sighed. not until he confirms that the criminal had been stopped and handed over to the authorities. not until he returns home. not until he returns to your embrace. you. home. it’s late and he’s starting to feel slightly worn out.

in hindsight, he could’ve accidentally given the criminal the chance to escape, but he flew down to the base of the construction at a rather unhurried pace. to be fair, finding the criminal after their fall wasn’t that difficult of a feat: all he had to do was fly over to where he saw them crash and follow the tracks to where they must’ve dragged themselves as a futile last ditch attempt to escape the hero, the uneven footprint revealing that the criminal was now limping,

he landed smoothly on the unsteady terrain and began his search for the fallen thief, thanking the night vision once more for making his job easier.

as he moved deeper into the unfinished complex, having to stop once in a while due to the building’s questionable structural integrity or obstacles created by the recent fall, he finally reached the dead end that the criminal trapped themselves in. having found the cornered person, he now has to make the right choice. part of the ceiling had caved in, and as he ducked to enter the room a stray gust brushed the side of his helmet. an attack? no, it was a warning. but, it was half-hearted. it missed him by a long shot and hit the wall beside him, and through his peripherals, he could see that the impact had barely shaken it—his opponent had lost all their intent to fight. collecting himself, he turned to properly face the criminal he pursued.

he freezes.

the hero was prepared for many things, for many different difficult situations he could’ve found himself in: he was prepared to fight back in case the adrenaline made the perpetrator lash out, he was prepared to begin his spiel to convince them to redeem themselves (after going through their sentence, of course). however, he wasn’t prepared to hear a shaky gasp and whimper in a voice that became increasingly familiar, in a voice that he had come to be fond of, as he got closer. he wasn’t prepared for the person he would face.

making the right choice is hard. would it be easier if he had a next power that helped him see the future? could such a power exist? regardless, that’s not what he has. making the right choice is hard, and he has to base his decision on what he has and what he knows at the time. making the right choice is hard. making the right choice is even harder as a hero, when every action, every word, every decision, is recorded and broadcasted for millions to see. no, it’s not easy, there’s a new weight to his choices. the consequences and the impacts are heavier than if he were just another person. he’s not nearly naive enough to believe that every single choice he has made was the most just, he’s not nearly naive enough to believe that they all led to the best of all the possible outcomes. there will always be factors that he needs to take into account and there will always be things that he has missed. not just facts and circumstances, but also his own personal bias.

the right choice was difficult because it’s a struggle between two beliefs. right now, his conscience is split between two ideals, two wants, two rights.

time is often critical, and hesitance can make all the difference in the world. « it’s time to surrender, you’re under arr— ». but for the first time in a long time, he faltered. his throat felt dry, and he can’t find it in him to summon his voice.

after being a hero for so long, making split second decisions has become second nature to him, an instinct, but for the first time in a long time, he faltered. for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what was the right choice.

he’s heard somewhere that everyone considers themselves the hero of their respective lives, and that they see themselves as the “good guy”. he supposes he can apply this to himself, he hopes that what he is doing is ultimately for a good cause, that he will make a change and leave this world better than when he entered it. did they think the same? was this the case for every villain he has met? was this the case for the criminal he finds himself petrified before? was this the case for you?

he was just heading home, so what choices led him here?

a/n: idk i like the idea of soulmates sharing the same next power

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