The staples were cold, so cold compared to the heat that it was like needles of ice piercing the skin. It was as if he was a living corpse, holding you in a prison of bones that didn't even have a fine line between his past and present, between the world of the living and the world of the dead, and he forgot himself who he really was, and all this time he lived with by you. He was ready to burn the whole world to ashes and do it, but you were always trying to pull him out, like a diver pulling something to the surface. You were his salvation and his torment.

If Dabi could love,he would have fallen in love with you a long time ago, with the the way you laugh at his jokes, even those that aren't funny at all,the way your cheeks turn red when he teases you, your eyes that seemed to see in there's something he couldn't see in himself, in your hands,in every muscle and vein under the skin of every finger, in every curve of every bone, in your knuckles. He would love the lines on your palms like he has never loved anything in his life.And he would be so in love that he would do anything and everything for you, for your every whim. He would have killed for you,he would have burned the cities for you.

But Dabi is not capable of love, it for him is something that he cannot achieve in life,for him as a broken creature made of glass and steel,with eyes that know only pain and hatred. Therefore Dabi hated you. He hated your kindness,your compassion,your unselfishness, the way you were always ready to help, the way your heart was too big and all he had in his chest was ashes and threatening scattered in one gust of wind,protected only by the whiteness of his ribs. He has many reasons to hate,the list of his grievances and discontents is so huge that it could be used in an encyclopedia,but what matters is that you are number one on this list — you have always been and always will be. He treats you like dirt. He never can understand what's tearing your heart apart and throwing it on the dirty floor without a second thought.