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A rather large part of you wonders if maybe you should’ve seen this coming. The other part of you knows that even if you had, it probably wouldn’t have changed a thing. You loved him a bit too much to walk away before you absolutely had to.
Dabi hadn’t ever seemed like the commitment sort of guy anyway, not since the first moment you met him when he had been incessantly flirting with you and two other girls at the same bar you were trying and failing to manage. It was your first night on the job and it was a seedy place crawling with even seedier people but you needed the money and work was work.
At least that’s what you told yourself when Dabi’s flirting got more and more annoying. It was hard to focus with him breathing down your fucking neck. You told him as much. You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth because while you don’t know who he is, an awfully annoying voice in the back of your head whispered perhaps you shouldn’t piss off the scarred up beautiful man who just minutes ago was demonstrating just how hot his flames can get.
You and Dabi stood completely still and silent for a few long seconds, an uncapped beer freezing through your palm and his glowing blue eyes narrowed and burning straight through your skull.
The urge to trip over your words and backtrack was almost impossible to ignore, almost. But you had shit to do and this job was already stressing you the fuck out and you’re two seconds away from being evicted so this needs to work out so it would be nice if he backed the fuck off for just a single second.
So, instead of groveling at his feet, you stuck your chin out, took a deep breath and calmly said, “Look, you’re very, very attractive, and trust me, at any other time I’d be so flattered and into this, but it’s my first night and I’m struggling just a bit so can you please give me a minute.”
He was silent for a few seconds before his lips curled up into an awfully too pleased and cocky smile revealing a pair of shockingly white teeth and weirdly sharp canines.
“You think I’m hot, doll?”
The tension between you two melted completely.
You groaned but only to hide the smile that tugged at the corner of your lips.
(He saw it anyway.
Later, in the early hours of the morning, he asked for your number. You gave it to him because you were a little dumb and he was a little too beautiful and surprisingly funny in a strange morbid violent lovely sort of way.
You thought this is dangerous. Not necessarily because he was dangerous-though you didn’t doubt that he most definitely was- but because as he smiled down at you with his crooked grin that made him look more boyish than villainous, you thought that’d he’d be so, so easy to fall in love with. And that he’d break your heart for it.
You were right, of course. But fuck if it didn’t hurt all the same because of it)
+
A year and a half later, standing in you and Dabi’s shared apartment, you’re forced to see the truth in your own damning words.
He had stripped off his shirt, getting ready for bed and for as strong as you’d like to believe you are, you can’t contain the wounded sound that escapes your mouth before you clamp your lips together.
He whips around but the damage is done. There are claw marks down his back, ones you most definitely had not left.
You both stare at each other, something so heavy and awful hanging in the space between you two.
Vaguely, it reminds you of the night you and Dabi met. Though thinking about that does nothing but rub salt in the wound, so you push it away and bury it deep.
He opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off.
“I love you, Dabi. I want you to know that. I love you so much. And I always will.”
The words are so heartbreakingly true.
You actually did end up getting evicted after that fateful night at the bar and even though you and Dabi had been dating for only 4 months at that point, he’d offered you his home and let you get back on your feet before paying rent. He knew exactly how to comfort you on the days where everything felt a bit too much like it was caving in, and you had held him as he sobbed so hard he’d heaved, more times than you could count.
You had seen the worst and best in each other. Bared your wounds so sweetly at such a formative time in your lives. How could you not love him? How could you not care for him for the rest of your life?
Of course, it hurt that he’d fucked another person, it broke your heart so completely, but the idea of being mad, of screaming at him, and throwing shit and causing a mess didn’t even cross your mind, because deep down, you thought, perhaps it is time to move on. Perhaps you both need something different right now.
You had gotten a job offer in America some time ago and you hadn’t taken it because of Dabi. Because you loved him and he was here. You had recently gotten an email that it was still on the table. It’d be a good opportunity for you. A great one actually.
It was time to move on, you realized. To grow as people, separately.
Dabi is the one to drive you to the airport. It’s a little strange, you’ll admit, but everything about what happened post the claw marks incident was a little strange. You’d stayed in his apartment after everything. Three weeks of skin-crawling awkwardness tinged with unspoken hurt.
It didn’t feel awkward now, though. As he stood outside his car with his hands in his pockets staring at you like you’re bound to turn to dust if he looks away.
You set your suitcase down gently and approach him, until you’re mere inches apart. He says nothing. You don’t either.
Instead, you wrap your arms around him and hug him. He’s stone still and just as you’re about to let go he returns it so tightly that you’re nearly crushed against his chest. You can’t help but laugh a little. His hold has always been a bit painful (but only in the sweetest way).
“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair.
You laugh again, light and sweet because you love him as well. So much it hurts.
“I love you, too.”
+
A few weeks after getting to America you change your number and don’t tell Dabi. Because even though you love him, you think you might hate him a little too. And you’d rather let it go before hate is all you have of him.
+
You return to Japan a year and a half later. They offered you a transfer and you took it. Going to America was an important and needed step in your life, but in your bones, you feel the truth of it. It’s time to go home.
+
The night you land back in Japan, you go to the same bar you met Dabi in. Partly for the nostalgia, partly because you did genuinely love your boss, but mostly because you knew you’d get a discount.
You’re on your second vodka and coke when he comes in. You don’t even have to turn around to know. You feel it deep in your chest, a sweet ache in your bones.
He sits next to you and for a moment neither of you say anything. Not until you turn to look at him. At first glance, it’s as though nothing has changed about him. Same jacket, same dyed hair, same scars, but something in his eyes is different. Older, maybe, though it’s only been a year. And he holds himself a bit differently as well.
You like it.
You tell him as much.
He gives you that same too-pleased cocky smile that you first saw what felt like lifetimes ago.
“You think I’m hot, doll?”
You groan to hide a smile tugging at the corner of your lip.
He sees it anyway.
You wonder if history really is bound to repeat itself. But you look at him and all his minute differences, and think, maybe not. And perhaps you’re too hopeful, and maybe a little dumb, but when you walk out of the bar with him and he gives you that boyish smile, you’re not as sure that he’ll break your heart this time around.
And when he’s kissing his way down your neck and whispering, I love you, I love you, I love you, like a prayer, and his tears leave a trail on your skin, it’s hard to not return the sentiment.
You love him. Of course you do. How could you not?
You tell him as much.
Perhaps this is a mistake. Perhaps it isn’t. Loving someone is always a risk, sometimes it feels like you're setting your heart up to be broken.
But, this is worth the risk, you think. It always has been.