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And that was it. The end, he supposed. The final fight was over – he defeated Endeavour, the man who took so much from him. Dabi had cremated him, turned him into nothing but ashes and memories.
Memories of the public and his own. They couldn’t have been more different.
Not that Dabi really cared anymore. Back at the headquarters of the league, he still felt his quirk burn bright inside of him. The everlasting blue flames, threatening to kill him at any given moment if he just let them free.
Somehow, the thought didn’t even seem that bad.
Dabi was alone, at least right now. The other villains had helped him, but he didn’t remember where they’d gone in the final minutes of the fight; hell, he didn’t even know if they were still alive.
He tried to bring himself to care, but all he felt was the sickish heat radiating from his body, a clear sign that he was overheating again. It didn’t happen very often, only after he overused his cursed quirk, but Dabi knew it could be deadly if not treated right.
Blue flames flickered and danced over his skin, the purple scarred parts already numb to the pain. The nerves underneath it had died a long time ago, back in the days Dabi doesn’t want to remember.
(But there were only so many glasses of alcohol he could down until it all was back up in his mind.)
Not that any of this mattered anymore.
He stumbled in the bathroom and somehow managed to lock the door beneath him. Dabi clasped himself to the sink and stared in the broken mirror nobody in the league had cared to replace.
His reflection stared back, gaze feverish, white smoke rising from the seams of his face. The staples weren’t melting yet, but it was only a matter of time until they would.
He really was a walking corpse, wasn’t he?
A disappointment to everyone. Too weak to handle his own quirk, and now he was succumbing to it, just as he probably deserved.
Dabi choked out a broken laugh, swaying in his stance as his vision got blurry.
God, he was still overheating.
He stumbled over and collapsed in the bathtub. The world seemed to spin, and all he could do was lie there and stare at the stained ceiling, waiting for it to end while his quirk still burnt his skin and illuminated the room in a ghostly, turquoise light. The staples on his face melted in the unbearable heat.
There, alone in the bathroom, Dabi suddenly had the thought that he might die.
He wasn’t particularly scared by the realization; in fact, he felt almost relieved. Maybe he didn’t have to do this any longer. Maybe he could just… leave.
He did what he had to do, didn’t he? Endeavour was dead. What was there left in his life? Dabi didn’t think he could stand seeing the rest of his family ever again.
No, the only people he would feel sadness about leaving were the league. They would probably miss him, not only as one of their top villains, but also as a friend.
Some time after the fight against Overhaul, they grew closer.
Toga was crazy, yes, but also pretty fun to be around. Spinner still had his obsession with Stain and his ideology, but otherwise, Dabi really didn’t mind him. Mr. Compress and Kurogiri were just kind of there, even though the latter oftentimes pestered him to be more responsible. As if there was anything a villain had less to be than responsible.
Hell, even Shigaraki wasn’t that bad of a boss. Yes, he had his outbursts, but for the most part, he just let Dabi do his thing. After all that time, he found the mophead almost intriguing, the way his red eyes sparked with mischief when he planned out every move of the league down to the smallest detail.
Overall, it would be a real shame to leave them now.
But on the other hand, who cared.
It was Dabi‘s life, for fuck‘s sake; he could do with it whatever he wanted, even if that meant letting himself burn to ashes right here in the bathtub!
Dabi snickered hoarsely and, after some shuffling, managed to pull out a pack of cigarettes out of his long coat.
„One last cig before you go, I suppose.“
He lit the thing on fire and took a drag. White smoke walled out of his mouth and the seams on his face as he exhaled, closing his eyes.
After this, Dabi would activate his quirk fully.
It was almost funny to think about how he wouldn’t even need a razor or sleeping pills; he could just let his own power kill him off. Maybe that was the way he was meant to go all along.
Dabi‘s thoughts drifted, back to his past, to what he did and what he could have done. The bathroom flickered in the light of his blue, all-consuming hellfire.
The cigarette was almost burnt down to the filter when somebody banged on the door.
Dabi blinked; he honestly had forgotten that he was at the headquarters of the league. He didn’t know where the other members were after his final fight. It had all been too chaotic at the scene, his blue flames clashing against red ones. Still good to know that at least one person survived everything and hadn’t been captured by other pro heroes or the police.
„Dabi, are you fucking smoking in there?“
And of all the members, it was the hand man of course. Honestly, Dabi wasn’t surprised the boss of the league would make his way out of everything. Still, it was rather annoying he had to deal with him now.
„And if I am, what are you gonna do about it? Leave me alone, mophead.“
There was a beat of silence. Then, Shigaraki snarled:
„Dabi, you know not to do that.“
The pyromaniac just laughed. It hurt, the staples on his face hurt, the rest of his good skin hurt too. Everything just seemed to hurt right now, his body as well as his mind. In his feverish state, he kept thinking about what could have been and what could be.
But no. It was no use. Even if Dabi tried to stop his quirk now, he still would probably die.
His life was burning away, just like his last cigarette.
„For fuck‘s sake, open the door!“
Dabi groaned and jammed the cigarette butt in his open palm. He flinched at the pain, but it grounded him, and who cared about another burn.
Who cared about anything at all.
Dabi tried to sit up, blood trickling from his seams and staples at the strain of the movement. His flames still filled the bathroom with their turquoise glow, but now dark points appeared in his vision.
Great, just great. He was losing consciousness when trying to get up, what a wonderful last minutes.
Dabi shivered in the ever-present, all-consuming heat, shutting his eyes closed.
„Go away,“ he mumbled at the door, but the words came out slurred and quiet.
The arsonist wasn’t sure whether Shigaraki had heard him or not.
He just wanted to die.
---
Tomura Shigaraki frowned. Dabi was smoking, no doubt; he could smell the cigarette. But why in the bathroom?
And why did his last response sound like he was about to fall asleep?
Shigaraki subconsciously brought up a hand to his neck and scratched. What the hell.
Maybe Dabi was patching up his wounds; he probably got injured. Still, Shigaraki had a bad feeling about this. He waited for a few seconds, then raised his voice again.
„Dabi. Open the door. Now.“
There was no answer.
Shigaraki cursed and grabbed the door handle, but it was still locked, of course. Quickly, the boss of the league pressed all five fingers against the door, disintegrating it. The second the wood turned to dust, he was hit by a wave of flickering heat. The bathroom was only lit by blue fire, flames dancing and bathing everything in their shine.
Dabi lay in the dry bathtub, motionless, his eyes closed.
Shigaraki cursed even louder. He ran over to the other villain, kneeling next to him and desperately feeling for his pulse. Dabis‘ scarred skin burnt his fingers, but the arsonist was still alive.
---
The next thing Dabi knew was that somebody was yelling at him.
„Dabi! Dabi, what did you take?!“
A familiar face came into his sight when Tomura Shigaraki grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. The boss of the league seemed frantic; his eyes were wide, and if Dabi didn’t know better, he would almost say he looked panicked. But that couldn’t be, not Tomura Shigaraki. Not the man that could care less about anything else than his plans, his dead family‘s hands, or „master“. God, Dabi hated that name.
Blood oozed from his seams and staples, some staining his white shirt. Dabi wasn’t responding immediately; he felt dizzy and lightheaded and just sick, but eventually he could choke out an answer.
„Nothin‘.“
„What do you mean, nothing? Did you…“
Shigaraki‘s words died in his throat when he checked Dabi‘s wrists for cuts. There were none, to his relief, but the scarred skin was burning hot to the touch, and cyan flames still danced and flickered above it.
„‘m just overheating,“ Dabi mumbled, slipping in and out of consciousness. Couldn’t Shigaraki just leave him alone? Did he really have to be here, during his last moments, desperately trying to save him?
He was overheating. Of course he was; Tomura was such a fucking idiot for not recognizing it earlier. He quickly turned around and opened the tap, turning it as cold as possible. White steam rose immediately when the water hit Dabi, and the arsonist flinched.
„…what the fuck, mophead.“
Shigaraki bit back a laugh at the familiar nickname.
„What is it, ashtray? I’m not leaving you here to die, you idiot.“
Dabi‘s snickering was muffled, and there was still a feverish glaze on his eyes, but at least he remained conscious. Shigaraki took this for a win. He sat down right next to the bathtub, checking the temperature of both the water and the villain lying in it.
Maybe Dabi would be okay, after all. Tomura really hoped so.
---
Gosh, why was the water so fucking cold.
Dabi shivered a little bit, though he could not tell if it was because his body temperature was too high or too low. Probably both, somehow. It would definitely match with the way he fucked up absolutely everything he tried. Sometimes he almost died when he shouldn’t, and then he wanted to end it and couldn’t.
But who could have predicted Shigaraki actually cared? Well, maybe he didn’t. Maybe he just didn’t want to lose one of his top-tier villains. Yes, this definitely made more sense. It was probably just really annoying to deal with a dead body lying around in the bathtub. Or, well, ashes of a cremated human.
Dabi still bled from his staples, but it became less and stopped hurting all that much as his skin cooled off. The turquoise flames slowly died out, and the bathroom turned dark, except for the light falling in from the floor.
Shigaraki sat next to the bathtub in silence. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking about.
Dabi shuffled around a little bit, moving slowly in the partially bloody water. He turned to try and see the other man‘s face, careful to not tear his seams more than necessary. He would have to staple himself back together later anyways.
When he looked at Shigaraki, their gazes met. His red, intense eyes seemed to stare right into Dabi‘s soul. For a split second, the arsonist’s heartbeat seemed to stumble, taken aback by what spark of emotions he thought to see.
Anger. Concern. Hurt.
-but then it was all over again, and Shigaraki snarled at him:
„Don’t ever try something like this again.“
Dabi looked the leader of the league dead in the eye and nodded.
„Yeah, smoking in the bathroom really sucks if I think about it. It‘s not worth the trouble to just go outside.“
„Fuck off!“, yelled Shigaraki and pushed the laughing Dabi back in the bathtub. It hurt, but it also hurt to laugh, and he just couldn’t stop giggling. Fucking smoking in the bathroom had no right to be this funny.
Dabi leaned back and closed his eyes for a few seconds, bringing his breathing under control. His mind was already a whole lot clearer than it had been before. Damn, he really did want to die in that moment. Dabi silently shook his head. Then, he sat up and pulled the plug to drain the bathtub. There was no use; he had to stay alive for the time being.
Shigaraki watched him seemingly emotionless and only offered his help when Dabi almost slipped as he tried to stand up in the bathtub. The arsonist noticed that the dead hand, which usually covered his face, wasn‘t with him.
Before Dabi had time to ponder about this, Shigaraki started to shuffle in the cabinet and eventually pulled out a first-aid kit. He turned around and threw a towel at Dabi, which the villain barely managed to catch. Jeez, he still felt light-headed.
Dabi threw his coat on the floor and started to dry himself. It wasn’t really effective, given the fact that the rest of his clothes were still soggy with water, but hell was he gonna do and strip in front of Shigaraki. No, Dabi was just fine without that.
The boss of the league stood there for a second. Then, he reached up to his neck and scratched again. Dabi assumed that he was annoyed because he had to deal with this shit.
„You need new staples. I can help you with them.“
Dabi just snorted.
„Yeah, whatever, I can do this on my own. There’s no need to worry about your number two villain dying now anymore, so you can go now and do whatever.“
Then he frowned; that had sounded more bitter than he’d wanted it to.
---
Shigaraki stared at Dabi like he just made some sick, cruel joke. His mouth was dry and tasted like ashes.
No need to worry about me, now that I’m not dying anymore. Your number two villain is fine now; you can do whatever.
The words felt like a punch to the gut.
Did Dabi… really think this way about Tomura? That he only cared about his plans and his master and didn‘t give a damn about the members of the league? That he just used them as tools, exchangeable mercenaries? Despite the challenges they had faced? The fights they had fought together and the nights they’d spent hiding from the law, playing card games, and sharing old stories?
The reaction … made sense, he supposed. He didn’t know Dabi well; he didn’t even know his real name, but all this-
It didn’t make Tomura feel less hurt.
Goddamnit.
„What is it? You waitin‘ for me to say something?“
Dabi looked at him with narrowed eyes, his head tilted in a manner that wasn’t exactly aggressive but not friendly either. After Shigaraki didn’t respond, he grabbed the first-aid kit and dismissively said,
„It‘s not like I’m trying anything stupid like killing myself again. Just leave me alone, okay?“
The leader of the league hesitated. Then he nodded and made his way out of the door. The dust of the disintegrated wood made no sound underneath his heels as he left.
Shigaraki didn’t look back at Dabi, and he was sure that he would just be flipped off if he did, or maybe see the man getting started with reattaching his staples.
All he could think of doing right now was pretending he wasn’t affected at all. If Dabi thought he didn’t care about him or the league, then maybe he shouldn’t.
---
His face hurt. Dabi mumbled a curse under his breath as he disinfected the parts of his seams that were torn, getting ready to staple them back together.
He was fine with doing it all alone. Dabi didn’t need other people’s help, especially not if they were just thinking about their own interests when offering it.
Still, that look on Shigaraki‘s face had been … unpleasant, to say the least.
Dabi pondered about it as he started with the stapler, piercing himself with pieces of metal to hold burnt and healthy skin together.
Three that had torn and started to bleed were on his side, and he winced when he pulled them out and replaced them with new ones. It was always a pain to do this, but absolutely necessary. Not even Dabi himself knew why his quirk destroyed some parts of his body and left others alone, but he had learned to deal with it a long time ago.
Keeping his hands occupied was a good thing, but that didn’t mean his thoughts couldn’t wander. And oh, traitorous thoughts they were. Mainly about the league and if they were still alive.
What would they say when they found out Dabi had been ready to die? They wouldn’t judge him, but he really didn’t need them to know about his mental state. Would Shigaraki tell them?
Dabi found himself exhausted when thinking about the leader of the league. Exhausted and wary, because he finally came clear with the fact that the other man just didn’t give a shit about the actual people he was with and never would see them as anything other than tools for his plan. It was sad, but at least very certain.
Dabi brought the stapler up to his face, shutting his eyes and wincing in pain as he fixed the last wound. Then, he put his stuff back in the cabinet and stood up. The little dark spots in his vision returned, and the arsonist grabbed the sink to not fall over.
Wait, when had he eaten the last time again? Dabi couldn’t remember, and that wasn’t exactly a good start. He quickly went to his room to throw on some dry clothes, then took a deep breath. Time to see who was still alive, he supposed.
Dabi walked in the living room of the league. He was immediately greeted by Toga, who jumped up from the couch to hug him.
„Dabi! Are you okay? That was a real crazy fight back there!“
The arsonist slightly smiled and quickly examined her to see if she was injured. There was blood on the sweater of Toga‘s school uniform, but it didn’t seem to be hers.
„I’m fine, just needed to change a few staples. How are the others doing?“
„I got beaten up by that bird guy, and it wasn’t fun,“ drawled Spinner from the couch. He indeed looked like he had been in a fight with Hawks; hence, he had plenty of bruises and smaller cuts from the hero’s feathers.
„Mr. Compress got knocked out, but Kurogiri is taking care of him. You got any idea where Shigaraki is?“ the other villain asked Dabi.
The arsonist just shrugged.
„He’s alive and fine, but I don’t know what he’s doing now.“
Spinner grunted something incomprehensible as a response while Dabi walked over to the bar. His fresh staples hurt, and although it was a dull, not very intense pain, he could still use some alcohol to help ignore it. He doubted the league had any painkillers at avail.
Toga followed Dabi to the bar counter, plopping down on a chair and staring at him as he took a bottle of cheap booze out of the fridge and cracked it open.
„And, how are you now? Any plans for the future, now that you took your revenge?“
He took a sip and shrugged. He didn’t know. Hell, of course he didn’t know; he had never planned for this, or really anything after killing Endeavour. And now he had run against a wall.
„I dunno. I’m fine. You guys do whatever you want to do, and I’ll probably just tag along.“
This response seemed to satisfy Toga.
„Okay, it’s great that you stay with us!“
Dabi took another sip of his beer and grinned cynically.
„It’s not like there’s anybody else I could or would like to stay with anyways. Plus, Shigaraki would be pissed if I left. He’d have one less S-rank villain to command around.“
Toga squinted at the arsonist.
„Sure, but he would take you leaving personally. You know, he sees you as a friend.“
Dabi blinked, then laughed in disbelief. His voice sounded strangely hollow to himself as he answered.
„I don’t think so, Toga.“
„What!“
She stared at him.
„I think we’re all just tools to him. The way he gets to his goals just so happens to involve us; that’s the only reason we even work together.“
„That’s not true! How could you say this! Dabi – did you say this to him?!“
The arsonist frowned and downed the rest of his beer.
„And if I did so? I can say and do whatever I want.“
„Dabi, that’s awful! And you know it’s not true!“
He stared at her blankly. Toga seemed to be outraged; she crossed her arms and loudly told him,
„What the heck, Dabi. You should go and apologize to Shigaraki. You two sometimes don’t get along well, but you can’t call him a heartless and selfish monster just like that!“
She huffed out a breath, shook her head, and turned on her heel to go back to Spinner. Dabi hoped the other villain hadn’t heard their conversation; one person getting on his nerves with this was already enough.
„Yeah, yeah, whatever.“
What a headache. What an absolutely stupid mess; of course Shigaraki was just using them. They had been literal mercenaries from the very beginning. If anyone had thought there was something like friendship involved, they were probably not the right kind of person to be a villain.
Dabi stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked out of the front door. He really needed a smoke right now.
Only when he ruffled through the pockets of his jacket did he realize the cigarettes were in his villain coat. And that one had been soaked with water, so they were most likely ruined. The arsonist groaned.
He didn’t really feel like telling the other members of the league where he was going every single time he just went out to the shop at the corner, so he pulled up his hood and started to walk.
As he made his way through the neighborhood, Dabi once more realized how run-down their area was. The apartment houses weren’t downright abandoned, but they definitely weren’t in the best shape, and it was better to not be on the streets after dark. Well, if you weren’t prepared to get mugged or something.
However, it was tactically the best place for the main quarter of the league, since they couldn’t just walk around anywhere with a simple hoodie on and not get recognized by some civilian. So, Dabi didn’t mind it at all. He was used to difficult living situations anyways, to say the least.
The arsonist entered the tiny store and grabbed some cigarettes and a bottle of beer. When he paid and walked out, he noticed somebody looking at him.
Dabi recognized two low-life criminals the league had never fought against, mainly because it was usually not worth the trouble bothering with petty thieves like this. But the way they moved and tried to not be suspicious or stand out told him everything he needed to know. These guys were out here to cause some trouble.
Well, the arsonist hoped they knew what was best for them and would leave him alone.
Dabi continued walking, but he sensed that they were following him. Wait, it was three people now. Crap.
One guy with a basecap, another one wearing a bomber jacket in an especially ugly shade of yellow, and the last one had talons, tattoos, and a haircut he could only describe as „dead opossum.“ None of them were carrying visible weapons, but that had to mean nothing.
The men were following Dabi even when he changed his direction and took a route that would take him longer to get to the league hideout. It also brought him to a less populated area, but the criminals just kept walking at a certain distance behind him.
They probably knew who he was. Fuck.
The arsonist’s thoughts raced as he turned into an even smaller alley. Seconds later, he realized his mistake. There were fewer civilians here, but this increased the risk of a fight.
Internally cursing, Dabi strolled down the road, all senses alert. He tightened his grip around the bottle; it was a lucky coincidence he had at least something to defend himself with other than his flames in case of a battle.
Dabi didn’t really want to use his quirk again; he had already pushed his limits way more than he should have that day, and the result had been overheating.
That was why he only dodged the sharp metal wires crashing in the ground next to him.
Dabi whirled around and jumped to the side, right when a second guy tried to strike him with his quirk. Whatever it was, he didn’t hit the arsonist, who decided, Fuck it.
He reached out and shot a blazing flame at the second criminal, cremating him in an instant.
The one with the opossum hair charged at Dabi, almost piercing him with his claws, but the arsonist ducked again and used his quirk to keep the attacker at a distance. He had been fighting defensively, but when Basecap drew a knife and jabbed it in his direction, the arsonist decided it was time to end this. He didn‘t want even more of his staples tearing out, for fuck’s sake.
Blue fire lit up around Dabi as he threw the bottle of beer at opossum-hair, turning the alcohol into a bright fireball. It hissed, and cyan sparks flew everywhere as the arsonist turned to run.
He’d only sprinted a few meters down the alley when the guy with the basecap caught up to him. He tried to stab the villain again, but Dabi once again dodged and prepared for his hellfire attack -
The next second, a sharp pain exploded in Dabi‘s temple, and his vision shook as he fell to the ground.
Fuck, did he – he had forgotten about the criminal’s quirk.
Dozens of metal wires pulled him back down as he tried to stand up and scramble away; he needed just a few feet so he could use his quirk, but the guy with the basecap was surprisingly strong. He tightened the grip around his knife as he leaned over the trapped arsonist, seeing a hint of fear in his cyan eyes.
The blade flashed –
The criminal’s smile crumbled and turned into dust. Grey powder was blown away by the slight breeze, leaving nothing but a shaken Dabi.
It was Shigaraki, of course.
The light-haired villain straightened from his position when he had grabbed the low-life criminal’s arm and disintegrated him. He offered Dabi a hand, pinky raised as always.
„Are you okay?“
---
Dabi was… not looking great. He had blood smeared on the side of his head, probably from a shallow cut. His hair and jacket were singed, but what worried Shigaraki the most was the somehow empty look in his eyes as he stared at the ground.
Something was off. (Of course it was, this guy had literally attempted suicide a mere two hours ago. What the hell was Shigaraki thinking?)
Eventually, the arsonist nodded. His voice was raspy and sounded distant, or like there were too many raw emotions inside of him all at the same time.
„I’m alright. Thanks for … saving me.“
When Dabi finally looked up, his expression wasn’t as apathetic as usual. He let Shigaraki pull him off the ground and then shoved his hands in the pockets of his jacket, almost as if he was scared of letting the touch linger too long.
No, this wasn’t true. Shigaraki‘s stupid mind just made stuff up again.
„You shouldn’t go off alone again. I know you can defend yourself, but it’s still an unnecessary risk to take if members of the league do solo trips.“
Dabi nodded again, then cleared his throat.
„I know, that was not the best idea. I’ll take somebody with me next time. Also… I wanted to apologize.“
Shigaraki wasn’t sure whether he had heard the arsonist correctly. His doubts quickly faded, though, as the other man continued to speak, hesitantly but earnestly.
„What I did earlier was a dick move, and I know that you don’t see the league just as a way to get to your goals. Toga talked to me about it, so now I see how I kinda fucked up back there. I should’ve let you stay.“
Dabi couldn’t bear to look Shigaraki in the eye as he said the last part. He was half expecting to feel a hand on his arm the very next moment, disintegrating him for daring to say the things he just did. But this was silly; Shigaraki wouldn’t kill him for apologizing, right?
Dabi shot a glance at the other man, trying to figure out his intentions. Even without the dead hand covering his face, the villain’s emotions still weren’t exactly easily distinguishable. The arsonist tipped on surprise and possibly anger for now.
---
Shigaraki couldn’t tell if he was dreaming or not. Did Dabi seriously just … apologize? Did he, in all honesty, say sorry for telling him to go away when he was fixing his staples?
His thoughts were a mess. Tomura couldn’t describe in words how relieved he was, how glad he was to hear that Dabi didn’t hate him.
But also, how could this man think he was at fault for, really, anything? There was nothing he did wrong; Shigaraki had been the one acting all cold and like he didn’t care about the league as friends. Dabi had had every right to want him to go when he fixed his staples.
The arsonist seemed slightly uncomfortable now, shuffling around and shoving his hands into his pockets. He cleared his throat and meant:
„Well, I think I’ll head back to the hideout. I won’t be going on trips on my own again, sorry about that.“
Dabi shrugged, and Shigaraki resisted the sudden urge to reach out and wipe the blood off the gash on his temple.
„…wait. I was stupid, I shouldn’t have pushed you. You weren’t in the wrong for telling me to go; I have been really cold to you.“
He thought for a moment, then added,
„You know, why would you want to be a friend of somebody that doesn’t treat you like a friend?“
Shigaraki almost had to laugh as he said this, cursing to himself because this was probably the worst possible moment to do this. Dabi, however, chuckled.
„Let’s just agree that we were both idiots in this one, okay?“
He stepped closer to Shigaraki, hands still in the pockets of his jacket. They stood in front of each other, mere inches apart. Time suddenly seemed to pass slower as he stared into the arsonist‘s cyan eyes.
Then, Dabi half opened his arms, offering the other villain a hug, almost as if he was asking a question.
Shigaraki‘s thoughts grinded to an abrupt halt, then went into overdrive. This felt like it was meant to be something far more than a simple gesture; an embrace probably had a deeper meaning.
Would it be a sign of trust and friendship? Or just some sort of formality to the arsonist?
Before he could overthink it, Shigaraki took a step forward.
Dabi pulled him into a hug, carefully wrapping his arms around him. Tomura found himself curling his fingers in the arsonist’s jacket, careful to not disintegrate anything. His eyes slipped shut as he breathed in the faint smell of cigarettes and campfire.
Dabi didn’t remind him of something special, maybe because he never had anything like this, but somehow Tomura thought that he belonged here. He tried to engrave this very moment as deep in his memory as he could, not willing to ever forget it.
---
Hugging Shigaraki was a strangely pleasant experience. (Dabi totally didn’t think about something like this ever before.) But really, damn, he was relieved they were okay now. Just standing there, holding each other after this strange, incredibly long day.
Did he really fight Endeavor just six hours ago? It seemed to be an eternity.
Dabi’s mind drifted off again, back to the time he had spent in the bathtub, waiting to die. He now knew that everybody in the league would have missed him if he hadn’t been saved.
Dabi came to the conclusion that there was a point in at least trying to stay alive and see where all of this was going. He wasn’t fine, not by any means, but actively attempting suicide didn’t feel like a good idea anymore.
Dabi made a promise to himself:
For now, he would stay, for the other‘s sake.