Dabi knew the type of girl that you were. Blessed with a family from money and a pretty face. The type of girl who was expected to be focused on expensive education and socialising with the ‘impressive’ offspring of her parents wealthy acquaintances.

An ‘innocent’ girl whose future was meticulously structured for comfort and and guaranteed wealth.

Dabi could only imagine how that would play out- Some stuck-up, rich loser charming his way into your heart, gifting you a diamond ring, pleasing your parents with generational inheritance. Your father would approve of his daughter being caged in a picket white fence house, in some boring ass suburban neighbourhood and your mother would probably value grandchildren over your happiness.

It was all too predictable. Yet he felt sick thinking about it.

Despite Dabi’s hatred for all the bullshit societal politics that defined your life, he had a genuine interest you. To hell with the fact that he was absolutely ‘out of your league.’

Dabi was the exact type of guy parents locked their daughters away from, and not just because he couldn’t afford to offer a life of materialistic luxury- Dabi was a was a ‘back street guy’- a ‘heartless player’, a bad influence.

So he should stay away from you. Likewise, you should stay away from him.

The night of the carnival was warm, summer. Bright flashing lights, laughter, an atmosphere of excitement. Dabi was leaning against the shady alleyway of one of the displays, a cigarette perched between his lips, sizzling softly.

When he saw you.

He had no idea what you were doing out so late, but he’d soon find out.

“Mommy and daddy approve of you being out so late doll?” He snickered drawing your attention.