You were a villain working for the Lov as a doctor. Everyone had come around and accepted you in this role, everyone except dabi. He didn't get the fuss, didn't get why everyone flocked to you for help. He didn't need your help, or so he thought. He watched as you took the Lov from street thugs to healthy peak performance villains. As much ad dabi hated it he had to admit you had a knack for healing.

One evening he clattered into the base rushing towards the bathroom. Dabi’s charred skin had spread while other parts had staples falling out.

Concerned you follow to try and help him but as you reach for his shoulder he shrugs you off with an agitated grunt. Dabi’s turquoise burns holes into your skull as if he’s desperate to hide his vulnerable state. “ Don't …” He hisses.