"So. This'll be your fifteenth, hm?" A deep voice hummed out, slightly resonant in the cramped space.
The elevator was familiarly smooth, stripes of light rhythmically flashing downwards from the two thin windows in the metal doors. It fell over their faces in intervals with their height difference, and flared when it hit a common item on their person. A thin chained metal necklace with a Dog Tag on the front, resting against white button up shirts. Imprinted onto it were two wings that were almost folded, crossing at the feather tips.
The taller of the two checked his wristwatch with an apathetic frown. Black hair in a messy bun, stubble, dark irises that were lazy in their arc from wristwatch to the doors a step in front of them.
His face dipped into shadow and his colleague's emerged shortly thereafter. Big green eyes, younger in comparison. Freckles dusted across his cheeks and nose, and his wild curly green hair had a smattering of mud on one side that continued all the afternoon down his clothes.
He spoke with a timid yet aspiring tone, hand clutched around a folder underneath his arm.
"According to the board, I stand a chance of changing things. It'll be difficult, and I'll have to work fast, but they're still giving me a shot! I just need to fill out the forms with you, oh and also I need to get my WhiteWings realigned, my account also needs to be looked over,""Uhuh," the black haired man breathed out. Another stripe of light fell down his suit and caught on a cuff link. His hand rifled around for something in his pocket before it was dipped in shadow once more.
"It won't take too long, I've done half of the work on my end! No time to lose," his green haired colleague responded. He wiped some of the mud off of his cheek with a grin,
"and also-"
"Until I leave this freaky lift, I'm on break. No work talk." A couple of clicks left his hand before a lone warm flame bloomed on a lighter. In his other hand a cigarette takes the flame.After a beat of silence in the gentle thrum of the elevator, the elder spoke again.
"You holding up alright?"
It made the green haired boy turn to him quizzically and he flashed a reassuring smile. "Yes sir! Everything's going really well, I've helped so many people. It's everything I've ever wanted. I couldn't be happier!"
This made the elder drag a hand down his face. He lodged the cigarette in his mouth on the way and mumbled: " 'course you are."
"Mr. Aizawa?"His green eyes flicked between the cigarette and his dreary expression. The man simply sighed out a cloud of smoke, "I get that you're grateful,"
Aizawa's eyes blinked and glanced down at a beaming expression that teemed with enthusiasm,
" - but you're way too much. You need to tone it down." The younger gave an awkward laugh and lowered his gaze to the floor. Aizawa's tired scowl softened briefly. "If not for yourself Midoriya," he turned to the doors eyes half lidded and the following came out in a jaded drawl, "do it for me I haven't had a coffee in three days and I'm going to get the mother of all migraines when these doors open to the corporate pearly gates-"A synthetic chime rang out, and bright dazzling light flooded the elevator. The doors glided open and Aizawa, with one hand shading his eyes, all but slumped at their arrival. His cigarette streamed smoke as he strode out. His colleague was quick to pace after him.
The white and light blue wallpaper. The black laminate floor, the blinding rays spilling generously into cramped corridors from large windowpanes. Vague assimilations of the halls Midoriya used to walk. It all looked normal enough, at a glance. But he had taken with him to this work his insatiable eye for detail. That knack had left him with subtle headaches and a weightless stomach each time he exited that elevator.
The heels of Aizawa's leather shoes clicked against the wood. Midoriya matched his pace and took a confident left at the next intersection but with casual disregard Aizawa turned right. It took Midoriya a few strides before he finally heard a distant reprimand:
YOU ARE READING
Wingbound .:Tododeku:.
FanfictionHis wings are an ID card - his halo a lanyard. His profession is his life and without it, he will fall. Midoriya only has one shot at this.