(TW: Abuse) "He doesn't hit me that hard..." Is what you say.

It's what you always say...cuddled into Dabi's chest, small fingers curling their way into the soft cotton of his shirt, cheeks flushed and wet from crying too much, all because Shigaraki lashed out again, all because you spoke up for once, "judged", him instead of coddling him. Now that pretty skin of yours is decorated in a mix of navy and lavender splotches, seeping into one another like watercolors on a wet canvas, the most notable being the red handprint on your left cheek.

"It'll be ok, doll..." He mutters, lying because he knows he can't do a damn thing about it. All he can do is hold you close, feel your chest hiccup against his, and run fingers through your hair.