#akcndjsjakq
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continuing with the vibe from earlier, pre-whatever canon dabi is truly, genuinely just horrible.
a surface glance wouldn't show anything more than an acquaintance-ship, but there's just something weird and different in the way you two are around each other. it's not super often, but when you are, you either enjoy a content silence or share a conversation that's only just riveting enough to keep you both present.
you ask him things about himself that he doesn't want to answer, that he refuses to, but you just kind of roll your eyes and try to hide your smile when he says something smart in response. you share a drink or two. a glance that feels too curious. there's not enough touching involved to be considered significant, but at one point you share the same breath and the air is so immediately tense and severe that you know you've crossed some kind of line no one else has with him.
but—it's undefined. unacknowledged, in truth, and dabi doesn't ever approach you on his own, nor does he give you his attention if he can keep it to himself. it's entirely too confusing, but what could you expect from a man of his status? asking for any clarification would only give you the kind of harsh end you don't want.
you leave it alone, for the most part. let it grow when it can, but you don't overdo it; if you and dabi happen to find yourself at the same club at night, you'll share a wave and maybe even have a quick chat with him outside as he smokes a cigarette.
which is exactly what you intend to do—before a man buys you a drink at the bar.
he's handsome and flirty enough that you let him, entertain his small talk and laugh at the cheap, somewhat raunchy jokes he tells you. it's all genuine, and while dabi is still lingering at the back of your mind—at the back of this club, somewhere—you allow yourself to be appreciated in the way a normal man would. not some wordless cat-and-mouse game that's too confusing to be even a little upset about.
you don't even know where dabi went, when the man excuses himself to run to the bathroom, and you do peek around for him. you really do want to have a quick chat before either of you leave because you don't know when it will be that you see him again, and you like to make the most of your chances. there's some thrilling side of you, too, that wonders if he even cares at all about the drink in your hand, or the man who bought it.
that question is answered—wordlessly, as always—in a horrific fit of chaos.
a thick cloud of smoke spreads through the club like wildfire, bringing screams of terror and a panicked mob with it. people are trampling over themselves to get from one side of the building to the doors; drinks are being flung and shoes are being lost and some are even on their knees, vomiting.
dabi follows the crowd lazily, lit cigarette in hand. there's a frightening char to his fingers that you know didn't come from just that, but he passes you without saying anything. only staring, tense and severe, before shuffling out with the rest.
and you finally see, at the back, the remains of your flirty, handsome man: whole, for the most part, except for the partfectly shaped handprint that's been seared through to his skull.
#✿ thoughts: dabi/touya#he's like yeah yeah yeah cool cool cool i will incinerate any other man that looks at you#NO he DOES NOT care 😒😒😒😒 but that doesn't mean someone else is allowed to !!!!!#akcndjsjakq#and he's very calm about it. unbothered. not even something he gives a lot of thought about.#he just sees the guy stop you at the bar sees you smile sees you laugh sees the hand his puts on your knee#and then follows him to the bathroom and melts his face off 🤷♂️#that's all 🤷♂️#not a big deal !!!#he's literally so chill about it !!!!!
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