"Humans are worthless. And heroes are just... narcissistic hypocrites."

Dabi spoke calmly, looking somewhere into the distance. His hand was lightly hugging your shoulder. He hated heroes, he wanted them all to die. Except for you. Although, he himself did not understand why his hand did not rise to hurt you. He would burn all of Japan if someone hurt you, if even one hair fell from your head.

You were not his official lover. You only... talked with him from time to time. And he was surprised by the fact that you had never reported your meetings to the pro-heroes. Did not set him up, allowing your rare meetings to take place.

Dabi once told you partially about his childhood. Partially, the smallest part. But even this was a feat for him. He couldn't cry, because his tear glands were burned away, like most of his body, which was covered in old burn scars, where they were held on with staples and stitches. Disfigured. His hair was black as night, but it was only ash that colored his white hair a tarry color.

He couldn't cry. But once, you saw drops of blood that spilled from the stitches of his scars under his eyes. Were they tears? You couldn't tell. But sitting like that, the two of them, on the roof, enjoying the silence or languid conversations, seemed something reverent. The hero and the villain. How ironic.

"I would burn the whole world, but then there would be nothing left of me. Although... it sounds good."