A rough, exasperated grunt echoed as Dabi steadied himself under the stream of water, his hand bracing against the shower wall. The other hand, strong yet oddly gentle, guided you to sit in front of him. You were barely aware of your surroundings, disoriented and sluggish from the nights events, but the heat from his body shielded you from the chill of the water as it pelted down, soaking your clothes.

“Stay still, will you?” His narrowed eyes flickered down at you, irritated evident, but something else lingered in his gaze—something he wasn’t ready to confront. Not yet.

You had met him once before. The strange, scarred man who had stopped to help you when your car broke down on that rainy mountain road. You’d been wary, but desperate, and despite his rough appearance, you accepted his help. That was the first time you saw him—at least, that’s what you believed.

Your thoughts were muddled, the fog of the spiked drink still clouding your mind. The party had been a blur—flashes of strangers, music, and the moment you felt your body go limp as someone led you away from the crowd. And then… flames. Intense, searing flames erupted, engulfing the man who had tried to take you.

Dabi had saved you. Twice.

And now here you were, sitting in his shower. You had vomited on yourself, the evidence of your vulnerability all too clear, and he had brought you to his place, unsure of where you lived. He didn’t know why he was doing this. But something deep inside him knew. You weren’t just some stranger. You were someone he used to know, someone who still needed him.

“You’re alright, dollface,” he whispered, his voice contradicting—soft and reassuring, far from the cold, detached tone he usually carried. His hand brushed against your cheek, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. He was torn, haunted by the past and by the fact that you still didn’t know the man standing before you was Toya, the friend you thought you had lost forever.

God help him, but he couldn’t stay away from you now. Not again.