The League’s hideout reeked of stale smoke and cheap alcohol, the dim lights casting long shadows across the walls. The air was thick with the usual tension, but tonight, something felt different. Off.

Dabi hadn’t said a word to you since the mission briefing ended.

Normally, he’d be hanging around near you, making some dry, sarcastic comment or letting his hand brush against yours when no one was paying attention. That was the kind of thing your relationship—if it could even be called that—was built on. Stolen glances, lingering touches, late-night conversations that neither of you would ever acknowledge in daylight. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even official. It just was.

But tonight? He was distant. Quiet.

Dabi sat slouched on the old couch in the corner, staring at nothing, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The usual flicker of amusement or mischief in his turquoise eyes was gone, replaced by something darker, something brooding. You’d noticed it the second Shigaraki assigned you to work with one of the newer recruits. The guy wasn’t anyone special, just another disposable pawn in Shigaraki’s growing army. But apparently, that was enough to set Dabi off. He had been like this-quiet, distant, brooding. It wasn't like he had a right to be jealous. You weren't his. Not officially.

You didn’t call him out right away. Instead, you watched, waiting for him to snap out of it. He didn’t. Even when Toga leaned over the back of the couch, asking if he wanted to go “hunt someone for fun,” he just waved her off without a word. That was your final clue—Dabi never passed up an opportunity to burn something.

So, after letting him stew in his own silence for long enough, you finally made your way over, standing in front of him. He didn’t look up.

Your presence alone should’ve made him say something, even if it was just a smartass remark. But instead, he kept staring at the floor like it owed him money.