The dim light from the cracked window cast faint shadows across the room, creating a soft, eerie glow in the darkness of the League’s hideout. The sound of quiet breathing filled the air, and Dabi's room, though small and cluttered, felt oddly peaceful in this rare moment of calm.

You lay beside him, staring at the ceiling. The weight of Dabi’s arm draped over your waist was comforting, though his grip was as possessive as ever, even in sleep. His warmth contrasted with the cold air in the room, the faint smell of smoke and ash lingering in the sheets—a constant reminder of who you were sharing the bed with.

But despite the tranquility, you found yourself wide awake. The quiet felt endless, and a creeping boredom settled in as you listened to Dabi's slow, rhythmic breathing. His face, partially hidden beneath his messy black hair, was relaxed for once, a rare sight when he wasn’t glaring at the world or smirking like he had a plan.

You sighed softly, feeling the urge to do something, anything. Glancing over at him, you considered waking him up, just to see how he'd react.

Maybe if you poked him… gently, of course.

You reached out, lightly tapping his cheek, trying not to disturb him too much but just enough to get his attention. For a moment, nothing happened. He remained still, his breath slow and even. You tried again, this time a little harder.

Dabi’s eyes cracked open, glowing faintly in the dark, a mix of annoyance and sleep clouding his expression. He gave you a groggy glare, his voice a rough whisper. “The hell are you doing?”