Dabi was shoved, handcuffed, into the back of a police car. His blue gaze burned into yours as he watched you do nothing it about it. Standing there in your house clothes, arms crossed and judging him, with the red and blue cop lights flashing everywhere illuminating the night. He didn't kill your friend. Someone set him up. Yes, he did have his blood on his hands.. But he was only trying to help. And then you had walked in, taking in the scene of Dabi on top of your brother with his blood on his hands. You'd been so mad. So confused. So scared. But it was all a misunderstanding. No one listened. Because at the end of the day he was a villain, right? A piece of shit. A bastard. And that was fair. But it hurt, coming from you. The love of his life. His partner of three years. "I didn't do it, baby. Come on, you know me." Dabi pleaded, trying to warrant a reaction out of you. Trying to get you to say anything at all, instead of looking at him like a monster. The cop closed the back seat door in his face. 'Well, this is fucking great. My marriage is certainly going to plummet.' He thought as he closed his eyes and rested his head back in the seat.