That night, as Hawks was flying back to his office, he started to cry.

He flew high above the clouds and sobbed.

He'd never felt so lonely and secluded in his life. And somehow being with the people he thought were the loneliest people.

Being with Villains of all people made him feel alone.

Why? Because even the villains had a home. Even the villains felt loved, if not by their families then by eachother. They all were there, supporting eachother, working towards a similar cause.

And Hawks was an outlier.

He didn't fit with the heroes. He didn't fit with the villains. No one seemed to really want him around. No one really seemed to care he was even there. The only person who texted him while he was gone was Mirko.

He wished someone could see that he wasn't sick, but that he was hurting. Mentally, physically. He wanted someone to see that he was exhausted. He wanted someone to understand how much pain he was in. How much hatred towards himself he felt. How lonely he felt. He wanted help but he refused to ask for it.

He felt like an inconvenience.

He was a hero for fucks sake! His whole job, his whole life was saving other people. He should be able to save himself. Everyone thought heroes shouldn't need saving. He thought heroes shouldn't need saving.

It was a toxic culture, fostering extremely unhealthy coping mechanisms in Hawks: self harm and the constant desire to be drunk.

So that's what he did. He got to his office, told his boss the information he'd got, (Not much) recieved a beating for not moving the project fast enough, went home, and locked himself in the bathroom.

He found himself not even crying as pulled off his costume and created slits farther and farther up his arms. They weren't deep enough for stitches, but they were deep. Deep enough that they were dizzying to look at.

He took a deep breath, then pushed the blade into his arm again, this time lower and vertical on the side of his wrist. He was running out of room, but he felt the need to continue until he felt somewhat better.

He added a dozen more, not stopping when he started to feel dizzy. Then, without wrapping them, got up to see if he had any beer.

Blood dripped from his arms to the floor as he walked to his fridge and pulled open the strong door.

It was empty except for the couple of cans he and Mirko had brought home as extras the other night.

He grabbed one, blood dripping into the fridge, and pulled open tab, delighted at the fizzy noise it made and the calmness he knew the drink would bring.

He took a swig, then before he knew it he'd downed the whole beverage. He glanced at his fridge.

He ended up sitting on his counter, criss cross applesauce, shirtless and bloody, drinking what he had left.

He hadn't eaten dinner or lunch, barely breakfast, but he was thankful he had something to make him feel better. He sat there, relishing in the peaceful bliss the drink brought him.

It felt like sitting in a patch of sunlight. Warm and comfortable. Like being tucked into bed by a loving mother or father. Like wearing a hoodie straight out of the dryer.

When in reality he was sitting on his counter, cold, shirtless, and sad. But he could live in the fantasy for as long as the alcohol lasted. Or as long as he was alone.

A knock came at his door.

If barely registered at first, then he blinked back to reality.

"Hellooo? Anyone home??" A confident, female voice said.

It was Mirko.

Hawks looked down at himself, at his floors. He was shirtless and blood had dripped onto his pants, the floor, he didn't even want to think about the bathroom.

"Shit." He mumbled to himself, his vision beginning to spin under the alcohol.

"One second!" He yelled out, hurriedly and haphazardly wrapping his forearms, still incredibly bloody, pulling on a hoodie and new pants, hiding the bloody clothes underneath other dirty clothes in his laundry basket and stuffing that under his bed. Then quickly cleaning up the blood on the bathroom floor and kitchen counter, the beer dazing him into believing he'd cleaned it all.

He went to open the door, his nose and cheeks rosy with intoxication.

"Hey, I'm on this side of town for business again. Mind if I stay?" She asked, observing his strange state.

"Sure." He said, welcoming her in, falsely proud of his cleanup job.

She immediately spotted the three empty beer cans on the counter and the open fourth.

"Have you been drinking?" She asked, her heart hammering in her chest with some negative emotion she couldn't place.

It wasn't nerves, closer to dread.

Sure having a night out was fun, relieving, but Mirko knew she would never get drunk by herself. Most people she knew were smart enough to not do that. She'd been raised knowing that, her parents were good people.

Hawks glanced at the cans and grabbed the fourth unfinished one, "maybe." He joked, something hidden in his tone. Obviously he had been drinking, she could smell it.

Mirko frowned, something was off about him.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothinswrong." He slurred, leaning heavily into the counter and taking another swig of the can.

"Why are you drinking?" She asked.

"Because it makes me feel better." He said, finishing his last can, not hesitating or even trying to lie, his thoughts process wholly clouded.

"Hawks.."

"What!? I dont- I don't want anyone's pity. I just-" he stumbled slightly to the side, his wings jotting out as he searched for balance.

4 beers on a totally empty stomach did a lot more than 4 beers on a well nourished one.

"Jesus." Mirko said, reaching out for him, "c'mon let's sit down."

"No!" He shouted, leaning away from her, "I don't need you to worry about me! You need a place to stay just-" he paused to let out a burp, "jus-stay here n' then we'll leave for work in the mornin and do the same misrable day alllll over 'gain."

"What's wrong?" She asked, looking to Hawks with worry. She could tell something was not right.

And for once, instead of speaking to her, he just stared.

"Why are you drinking all alone? It's supposed to be fun every once in a while not to- not to make you "feel better" she quoted, "what do you need to feel better from? what's wrong?"

Hawks looked at her, then with teary eyes started to giggle. Then he was laughing, wheezing.

Mirko stared, completely unaware at what was so funny. A little scared.

"Rumi." He said, not trying to wipe the tears from his eyes.

"what isn't wrong?" He asked, a tear slipping down his cheek at last.

That's when Mirko realized. When she really really realized.

She didn't know the real Hawks at all.

----------

That night was awkward. Hawks stayed mostly to himself in his room while Rumi slept on the couch, worried and concerned about him.

She got up at one point to get a glass of water and found the blood on the floor of the kitchen and in his fridge.

She felt her heart stop for a minute, her thoughts racing.

But it could be anything. An injury from a mission? A busted lip? Some minor injury? Anything anything but him hurting himself.

Hawks wouldn't do that. Right?

He acted a little strange sometimes, but he wasn't depressed. He had been so happy the other night! Was it just because of the alcohol? Is that why he was drinking again? Was he ever really happy?

Oh God.

She thought of the panic attacks, the flinching away. Her ears slowly sank from their upright position, hovering somewhere between down and horizontal.

But he was fine! Hawks would ask for help if he needed it, wouldn't he? The hero she knew would.

But did she really know him?

She sat back down on the couch and took out her phone, texting the person she knew she could trust with this kind of information.

Mirko: hey Aizawa I know it's like literally 1am but I need to call you.

Like now please.

Aizawa: okay.

Mirko nearly laughed in relief at his quick reply as she hit the call button and stepped out the front door of Hawks' apartment.

When he picked up she collapsed into tears. Little, delicate hiccups. Her ears dropped down completely in defeat and fear.

"What's wrong?" Aizawa asked, concern carrying over the speaker of her smartphone.

"It's Hawks. I'm just- I'm worried about him. Im staying with him again tonight and hes- he's drunk and he's saying kinda scary shit and I just-" she cried, letting the tears run.

"Woah, woah. He's making you uncomfortable? You can come stay with me and Mic we have an extra bedroo-"

"No no not- not scary like that he would never. Like- I don't know I asked him why he was drinking and he said because it makes him feel better and I don't understand- is he feeling bad? He doesnt- he doesn't seem like he's having a hard time but sometimes he does seem like it but he always - I don't know and I just found little drops of blood on the floor and I just- I'm thinking the worst." She rambled.

"Well the blood could be from anything. Is he awake? He could just be having a rough day."

"Aizawa, I asked him what's wrong and he answered with what isn't? " She cried, trying to stifle her tears but failing miserably.

Aizawa gathered his thoughts for a moment before answering.

"Keep checking in on him. Be open about your concerns, maybe talk to him when he's sober. I know this is rough and it shouldn't feel like it's all your responsibility." Aizawa reasoned.

"It isn't all my responsibility!" She said, "I'm just-" she paused as the front door to Hawk's apartment opened and he peeked his head out, seeing Mirko in her PJ's, on the phone.

"Hey, you okay?" Hawks asked. There was something so sad and concerned in his eyes. He was clearly much more sober than earlier. She tried to wipe away her tears, but Hawks went to sit next to her, patiently waiting for her to hang up with Aizawa before she continued.

"What's wrong? You don't have to hide it from me." He said, trying to get her to open up about what was bothering her. He didn't want her to be hurting and not be able to do anything about it.

"I'm just- I'm worried about you." She let out.

Hawks immediately felt overwhelming guilt. Mirko watched as his eyes immediately glossed over and he bit the inside's of his cheeks while shaking his head, desperately holding back tears.

"No no no dont- don't worry about me. I don't- you don't need to worry about me." He said, his voice wobbling, trying to remember what he'd said when he was more drunk. What could be worrying her so much?

The anxiety of not remembering made his stomach churn. He was hungry, but too nauseous to do anything about it. He felt lightheaded and knew he'd fucked something up to make her so emotional.

"Hawks, why is there blood on the floor? And in your fridge?" She asked, waiting to hear what she dreaded, but praying he said anything else.

Hawks blanked for a second. Blood? Why was there blood?

He decided to lie about whatever she was talking about.

"I had a bloody nose." He said, "I made a mess, I had to clean up I must've missed a couple of spots." He explained, physically watching the relief spread through her whole body.

It was then Hawks realized what he'd lied about. And he was glad he did. He was even more glad she didn't just ask him straight up because she would've figured it out. He didn't have an exit to that conversation ready.

"Rumi, I would never do that. I promise. Don't worry because I'm just really dramatic when I'm drunk and nothing is wrong I've just been stressed lately that's all. Just a lot to do, a lot of pressure on my shoulders, but nothing bad. I got this!" He rambled, "please just- just don't worry about me so much. I don't want you to feel sad because I say some stupid shit."

She looked at him for a moment before nodding.

They shared a hug.

"I'm glad you're okay." Mirko said.

Hawks smiled.

He made a good... No. A great liar.