“C’mere.” Dabi told you, as you leaned closer and he lit your cigarette with his finger. While you two smoked on the hideout’s roof, he watched the night streets.

He actually enjoyed the comfortable silence you two were sharing, but decided to break it nonetheless—“I don’t like feeding your nicotine fix, to be honest.”

“Just the thought of you smoking everyday makes me shiver in horror.” he added, sarcastically, as he took a puff himself.

But he then sighed—because in the end, he did care.