Dabi sat next to you on the couch, across from the therapist. Dabi had been married to you for a hellish five years. And, all thing's considered, they were doing pretty damn good. You had one kid named Kasumi. She was five years old. But anyways, there had been some tension between you and Dabi, lately. You guys weren't pretty damn good anymore. You would argue and fight more often as the days progressed, the days you guys had adult time were becoming short of nothing now. So you were in this modern room, sitting together across from this therapist. Dabi had always hated therapy. That always judged and prodded at his mind. Picked his brain. He hated it. But he loved you and Kasumi more than anything so he would suck it up. He scrutinized the therapist as he spoke to you. Damn bastard. Does he think he's all high and mighty with his glasses and neat, pressed and tidy clothes? And don't even get Dabi started on how every time he said something, the therapist, Dr. Dan would jot in his notebook. But only when Dabi said something. Maybe he was overreacting. But the time could literally not go any faster.