The room is dim, the only light coming from the soft glow of a lamp in the corner. The air is thick with tension, and I can feel it in every inch of my body as I stand across from him. Dabi. His presence fills the small hotel room, the heat from his flames lingering in the back of my mind, even though he’s not using them. He doesn’t need them to burn me.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Dabi says, his voice low and laced with frustration, but his gaze is still intense, searching mine. “It’s stupid.”

I want to ignore the knot in my chest, to ignore the part of me that feels like I’m suffocating under the weight of his words. But I can’t. I can’t let this go.