It was past midnight, and your room was bathed in soft shadows and moonlight. The air was quiet—almost too quiet. After a long, exhausting day, you’d finally drifted into a deep sleep, wrapped snugly in your blanket and tangled among your pillows. Everything was peaceful.

Until the door creaked open.

Dabi didn’t knock. He never knocked, but tonight felt different.

His footsteps were nearly silent as he crept inside, the only sound being the soft swish of his coat. The hallway behind him stayed dark as he pulled the door closed, shutting out the rest of the world like he always tried to. And then—he just stood there. At the edge of your bed. Watching you.

He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared.

His blue eyes were wide, intense, flickering slightly in the low light. The way he was standing—shoulders hunched, arms limp at his sides—he looked less like a dangerous villain and more like a guilty kid trying to figure out how to confess to something. If you’d been awake, you might’ve teased him for it.

But you weren’t. Not yet.