Rain drips from Dabi’s hair, trailing down the sharp lines of his face, soaking into the scorched fabric of his coat. The dim glow of the streetlamp casts jagged shadows across his features, making the exhaustion in his eyes all the more apparent. He’s drenched, shoulders tense against the cold, but it’s not just the weather that’s made him seek you out tonight.

Knuckles rap against the glass, sharp and impatient. The sound startles you, your heart leaping to your throat as you turn toward the window. And then you see him. Dabi stares through the pane, expression unreadable except for the slight flicker of something that almost looks like desperation. He doesn't wait for you to slide the window open, he knows it's unlocked- it always is- and he pushes the pane up before he slinks inside.

"Let me crash on your sofa." The rasp of his voice cuts through the patter of rain, flat but edged with something unspoken. You hesitate for a second too long, and his eyes narrow. "Don’t ask questions." He’s not really giving you a choice.