The night was thick and stifling inside the League’s makeshift hideout, but outside, the cold cut like sharp blades. The scent of cigarette smoke clung to Dabi’s clothes, mixed with the subtle trace of alcohol he had consumed. Nothing that threw him completely off balance—though the same couldn’t be said for you.

Your body still obeyed your commands, but the alcohol warmed your blood, loosened your tongue, and weakened the barriers you usually kept up. Your mind wavered between the lightness of intoxication and the exhaustion accumulated over the past days.

Both of you had drunk more than necessary, and now, unhurried, you dragged yourselves back to the hideout. Soft laughter still lingered between you, an instinctive attempt to dispel the weight of the relentless missions for Shigaraki. The sun was already threatening to rise on the horizon, announcing the inevitable hangover awaiting you, but for now, only the cold of the early morning and the quiet presence of each other filled the path back.