“I’m never fucking playing go fish again,” Dabi mutters under his breath as he grinds his teeth and shoves the door to his bedroom open and you trail after him rolling your eyes at the way he’s sulking. You follow him inside his room — it’s small like all the rooms are in the shitty rundown bar, the ceiling paint cracked that look like forks of lightning when Dabi’s smoking on sleepless nights. But he’s tried to make it liveable and decent with a small twin sized bed pushed to the corner.

“I swear to God Toga rigged that game,” Dabi mutters as he watches you go about his room, dumping your stuff by the small rickety chest of drawers he has filled with clothes, cigarettes and a bottle of whiskey. The room is illuminated by the glow of the sole lamp he has on the bedside table, bathing the small room is a soft orange glow.

He grits his teeth as he sinks onto the bed, fishing a cigarette out and pressing it to his lips. The League’s hideout is a hovel — it’s not exactly a secret that it’s less than grand, with its smell of mildew that lingered no matter how hard Kurogiri tried to clean the place. But a burst water pipe meant some of the rooms were flooded and wrecked and Twice had the brilliant idea to play a card game to decide who has to share. And Dabi lost.

Which landed him with you. Sharing his fucking room and bed for the foreseeable future until they fix the busted rooms and go back to normal. Dabi isn’t good at sharing. Sure he’s better than Tomura at it but he doesn’t share personal things — not his backstory and not his fucking bed. Yet you slip into his bed, sliding under his sheets and he sighs as he moves to sit beside you, a gap between you as he settles on the side by the window so he can stare at the city in the distance.

“We should lay down some ground rules,” Dabi mutters as he takes a slow drag and holds the smoke in his mouth before it spills from his lips like a river from the mouth of a cave. “If we’re gonna try share this shitty place and not kill eachother.”