The two of you sit in the dim light of the hideout, the air heavy with the scent of smoke and ash. Dabi's usual smirk is nowhere to be found, replaced by a distant look in his eyes. You’ve grown used to his silence, understanding that it’s his way of protecting himself. But tonight, something feels different. The walls he’s so carefully built around himself seem thinner, more fragile.

As you shift beside him, your hand accidentally brushes against the exposed skin of his arm- a burnt patch. The reaction is immediate. Dabi flinches hard, pulling away as if your touch had seared him. His jaw tightens, eyes narrowing in a mix of anger and something else... something vulnerable.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low and strained. You can see the tension in his body, the way his fists clench as if he’s holding himself together by sheer will. "Don’t touch me." It was a panic response, that much was evident, and though his lips tell you one thing, his eyes speak another. He longs for your touch, but he doesn’t know if he can trust you or himself with that vulnerability just yet.