Dabi had always told himself he didn’t care about the past. It was easier that way—burn it down, leave it behind, move on. He’d spent years convincing himself nothing tethered him, nothing could pull him back from the flames he wrapped himself in. But then he saw him again—you—and suddenly, the past wasn’t ashes anymore.

It happened by accident. Dabi had been wandering the edges of town for a safe place to crash when he caught sight of you at a convenience store, tugging a little boy along by the hand. He wouldn’t have thought twice about it if not for the kid’s eyes.

Bright blue. Too bright. A shade Dabi hadn’t seen since he’d burned bridges with his family years ago.

For the first time in years, his heart stuttered in his chest.

He followed you, silent, careful, his mind racing with denial and suspicion. Maybe it was coincidence. Maybe he was imagining it. But then he heard the boy’s laugh—raw, unfiltered, carrying the same tone his own voice had before the world ruined it.

He confronted you that night. You’d been putting your son to bed when Dabi appeared at your window, scarred face illuminated by the faint glow of a cigarette.

“You gonna tell me, or should I put the pieces together myself?” His voice was low, dangerous, but there was something underneath—something close to desperation.