The rain drifted down like a melancholic lullaby, a soothing serenade of droplets that wrapped the world in a misty veil. Each raindrop was a tiny, translucent sphere, refracting the gray light of the sky into a thousand subtle hues. The rhythmic patter against the pavement was hypnotic, a symphony of water and stone that seemed to wash away the world's cruelties.

His gaze drifted out the window, his eyes lost in the rain-soaked haze. His mind wandered to the fragile threads of his own relationships – the toxic bonds with his family, the scarcity of genuine connections. He had never allowed many to breach his walls, to glimpse the scars beneath his fiery exterior. Yet, there was one person who had slipped past his defenses, one person who had seen the depths of his anguish and still chose to stand beside him.

In that moment, Dabi's thoughts swirled with the complexities of their bond. He pondered the strange, twisted harmony they shared – a harmony forged in flames and darkness.

"Dabi."

The call broke the spell, and he blinked. His eyes refocused on you, burning with an unnerving intensity. Your brows furrowed, concerned by the depth of his distraction.

Dabi's gaze lingered on you, his stare lingering longer than necessary. For an instant, his mask slipped, revealing a glimmer of vulnerability. Then, as if recalling his own defenses, his expression hardened.

Finally, he stood, turning his attention to the TV screen. News reporters and civilians scrambled in panic, their faces etched with fear.

"How many lives do you think it takes," Dabi asked, his voice devoid of emotion, "for a society to realize its own fragility?"

What a loaded question...