As a child he could never do origami right. Warm summer afternoons passed by as his mother tried to teach him repeatedly but Enji always ended up burning the damn paper. He couldn't understand why he failed that bad, because it should be so easy in theory.
Folding the most basic ones wasn't even that hard, and if he just kept calm and did it again when he made a mistake everything would be much easier. Except Enji isn't like that. Even as a child he had zero tolerance to mistakes and his anger at himself always overflowed from him in the form of flames flickering through his fingers and burning the unfinished origami to dust.
He is always so mad at everything, but especially at himself. And it's hard to control his flames when he feels angry, which only makes things worse. Because that means he's so weak he can't control his own quirk. And he always feels like a little child when that happens.
He remembers being scolded by his father, over and over again, about wearing his emotions on his flames way too much. For having no control. For being weak.
And it's partially why he began to wear his fire beard, that way he always had fire on his face, it wasn't so embarrassing as bursting up in flames out of nowhere just because someone got on his nerves.
It's a childish solution, and he's perfectly aware of it.
He can't control his emotions nor his flames. And he feels like a child too when he can't even control his desires. When Hawks so pathetically easy seduces him and Enji falls immediately for it like a stupid teenager who can't even keep it in his pants. For his reputation's sake, for his wife's sake, for his family's sake.
For someone so proud of control over his children, his subordinates, he sure has little to no control over himself.
The first few times it happens, the wedding ring on his finger burns his skin, even if he himself can handle heat pretty well. It soon starts to get heavy on his hand, reminding him of an inconvenient bother, reminding him that anything he ever did would always be wrong.
Then, he stops wearing it. He simply hides it in a drawer and pretends the ring doesn't exist.
Ignoring his responsibilities and putting his mistakes under the rug was what he used to do before. It's the opposite of trying to better himself, the very thing he's trying not to do, but he just can't seem to deny himself of what he craves.
He feels so young, so mad. Just like folding a stupid origami and getting angry for making it wrong. He fucks Hawks and gets too angry with himself, flames dancing on his face and on his fingers, his hand so hot it brands perfectly on the winged hero's tight little ass.
It must hurt, because it leaves a hideous mark. He should think it is well deserved of the boy for tempting him, but he just feels bad about hurting him, as he does to every single thing he lays his hands on.
And when it's over he feels pathetic. Because he couldn't resist. Because he should be better, but he isn't. And he'll do it again. And again. And again. Just like the weak and despicable man he is.