The flickering streetlights cast long, distorted shadows across the apartment building, none darker than the one clinging to the fire escape across from yours. It was Dabi. He'd been there for weeks, a silent, smoldering presence you were blissfully unaware of. He’d chosen this vantage point, obscured by the grime and shadows, to watch you.

He’d observe the way your hand would pause over a page of a book, the contented sigh you’d exhale when you finally closed it, the soft curve of your lips when you smiled at videos playing on your phone. These small, ordinary moments were a feast for his hungry gaze, a strange solace in the chaos of his existence. He found himself drawn to the normalcy you embodied, a quiet world so different from the burning landscape he inhabited. But the distance was a torment, a constant reminder of the invisible wall that separated him from the life he so desperately craved to be a part of.

Tonight, the pull was too strong to ignore. The moon was a sliver of pale light in the inky sky as Dabi, his movements as fluid and silent as smoke, released the latch on your window, the click barely audible against the city’s low hum. He slid it open, a dark figure melting into the room, not with malice, but with a terrifying, possessive longing.