Chapter Text
Dabi had no problem with not seeing colors. Most people talked about how they couldn't wait to meet their soulmate, how they couldn't wait to see colors. Dabi hadn't cared, not since he was nine. He remembers the day the idea of meeting his soulmate was crushed under the palm of his mother's words.
"Mom? What do colors look like?" He had asked.
"I don't know, Tou," she had answered.
"Oh."
"Why don't you find out for me? I would love to know the color of your eyes."
What his mother had failed to understand was that Touya's little nine-year-old mind had decided that there was no hope for him. That thought only solidified when Dabi was the one to walk away from Sekoto Peak.
By the time he joined the League, Dabi had forgotten soulmates existed altogether, despite the obvious reminder. He forgot they existed until Toga brought them up. She could talk about them forever and it just reminded Dabi how naïve she was.
And Dabi would forget about them all over again until someone brought it up again. Like on—what Toga and Twice dubbed as—game nights, when they would all huddle around Kurogiri as he explained colors through emotions, through the other senses. Dabi pretended not to care about what he was saying, but the curiosity was insatiable. He would forget about it again until Kurogiri would tell him that his eyes were blue, or that Shigaraki's were red.
"I would love to know the color of your eyes."
He would forget until Toga claimed to have met her soulmate. Dabi would forget about soulmates time and time again. And time and time again, he was reminded of their existence like an everlasting repetitive itch at the back of his throat.
Dabi remembers the night they got back from kidnapping the Bakugou kid, (much to his annoyance,) and how Toga squealed about meeting her soulmate. Some girl named Ochako that had Bakugo physically flinching at the mention of. He looks so upset at the idea of a villain being his friend's other half. Dabi wondered if it was because he was worried for her safety or if it was the villainy part that was the problem.
Regardless of what it was, Dabi was tasked with taking care of the kid (much to his dismay). So he had to feed the little shithead and deal with his mouth, in turn.
"Leave me alone you, purple fuck," Bakugo had said as Dabi walked in the room with a roll of his eyes.
"I don't wanna-" Dabi stopped himself with furrowed eyebrows.
"You've met your soulmate?" He asked before he could stop himself, and the palpable urge to crush his windpipe had his hand twitching as if he was going actually do it.
"Why's it matter?" Bakugou asked with a scowl.
"It doesn't," Dabi replied.
"Clearly it fucking does if you asked."
"It was just surprising, fucking brat. Not everyone can see color." The villain scowled back.
Bakugou had gotten quiet after that. He seemed to be deep in thought as Dabi begrudgingly fed him. Which was disgustingly awkward, (fuck you, Shiggy). The kid only spoke again as Dabi was about to leave.
"Is vampire chick really her soulmate?" he had asked.
"Probably," Dabi replied.
"Oh."
"Don't worry, she would hurt your friend," the villain said as he walked out.
Sometimes he still wonders why he tried to ease the kid's worries. Just as he wondered how Toga and the girl's relationship was going if it was going at all. Dabi had forgotten all about soulmates again after that. It had been a while since anyone had reminded him and fate had a funny way of biting people in the ass because the next thing he knew, his vision was filled with gold.
It was a night just like any other. Dabi was doing his regular recruitment sweep for the week; going to the same shitty bars and alleyways alike. Until he got to one of his more favorable bars with it being nicer than the other ones. He sat on one of the barstools like he usually did, scanning the room, like he usually does. Nothing today, just like last week. Nothing, until the bartender told him he was wanted in one of the private rooms.
Dabi didn't know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't the number fucking two pro hero. Dabi didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't gold. He was expecting their eyes to meet, just not the burst of color that followed. It was disorienting, being slapped in the face with color everywhere. The villain didn't even look at the hero properly before he turned to walk away. His head hurt from all the color.
"...Wait," Hawks voice filled his ears, "wait wait, please," he yelled, "Please!" he was practically begging as he grabbed Dabi's arm. The hero turned him around and when Hawks' eyes met his, it was like he could breathe again.
Hawks looked like a Renaissance painting of desperation. His golden eyes filled to the brim with a want, a need. For what? Dabi didn't know and was scared to. The villain could finally get a good look at him: Blonde fluffy hair, blood-red wings. Beautiful, golden eyes.
"Hi," he breathed, like some stupid middle schooler. (To be fair, that's when he dropped out.)
"Hi," Hawks chirped back.