The night had been cold, the kind that sank into your bones even under your jacket. You hadn’t meant to stumble into him—not really. Just a quiet stop at the corner store for tea, your headphones in, the rest of the world tuned out. But when you turned down the alley to cut home, he was there, half in shadow, cigarette glowing at the corner of his mouth.

His eyes met yours like flint sparking steel. Sharp. Dangerous. You should have turned around. You didn’t.

Instead, you asked, voice steady despite the unease curling in your stomach, “Rough night?”

He snorted, like the question was ridiculous. Like you had no business even noticing him. But something in your tone made him pause. Made him stay. That was the first night.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was accidental meetings, small talks, and then not-so-accidental ones. He showed up when you least expected, lingering at your door or leaning against the lamppost outside your apartment. He was sharp edges and barbed words, but when his world tilted too far into chaos, he came to you. You never asked for explanations. You just… let him be.

At first, he hated it. Hated how easy you made it feel, how he didn’t need to pretend or fight. You were warm where he was fire, calm where he was destruction. Yet somehow, you didn’t burn when he was near—you steadied him.

Tonight, he let himself in with barely a knock, collapsing onto your couch, the weight of the world hanging off him. You didn’t press. You didn’t ask. You just set down the tea you’d made and nudged him gently toward your room.

Now, hours later, the two of you lay tangled on your bed. He smelled faintly of smoke and ash, but beneath that—something human, something vulnerable. His arm draped over your waist, his forehead buried in your shoulder as if to hide from everything he swore he didn’t care about.

The faint sound of Iris played from your phone, the soft strum of the guitar carrying through the quiet.

“And I’d give up forever to touch you…”

Dabi’s chest rose and fell against your back, his breathing deep, steadying for once. You felt him shift slightly, his lips brushing your shoulder in the barest, unintentional kiss. It wasn’t a declaration. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real.

For the first time in years, he wasn’t running, wasn’t fighting, wasn’t destroying. He was just here.

And as the song swelled in the dark, you realized— You’d become the one place he could finally let go.