The days rolled by, and October crept in with its crisp air and amber leaves, painting the city in shades of gold and crimson. Dabi’s visits had become a steady rhythm in Aldon’s life, a mix of unpredictable energy and a strange, almost comforting presence. Each time Dabi slipped through the balcony door with his signature smirk, Aldon felt a sense of relief that he hadn’t fully come to terms with yet. For all the chaos Dabi carried with him, it was undeniable—Aldon liked having him around.
What surprised Aldon even more was Dabi’s effort to participate in his so-called “fun” programs. It wasn’t perfect, and Dabi never missed an opportunity to throw in a sarcastic remark, but the sincerity behind his actions wasn’t lost on Aldon. Dabi was trying—genuinely trying. Not because he believed in rehabilitation or the notion of redemption, but because he cared about Aldon. It was unspoken, but it was there in the small ways: the way he begrudgingly tied an apron during their cooking sessions, the way he kept his fmes in check, and the way he stayed, even when no one would have bmed him for leaving.
Cooking lessons had turned into a semi-regur activity, with Dabi gradually learning to chop vegetables without mangling them and even managing to make a decent stir-fry. The kitchen, once Aldon’s quiet sanctuary, had become a pce filled with unexpected ughter and the occasional argument over seasoning. Aldon often caught Dabi sneaking bites of the food before it was done, earning a pyful swat with a wooden spoon.
Then there were the drawing sessions. Aldon had suggested it on a whim, expecting immediate rejection. Dabi, true to form, had rolled his eyes and grumbled about how stupid it was. But to Aldon’s surprise, he’d reluctantly picked up a pencil and started sketching.
At first, the lines were haphazard and impatient, but as the minutes passed, Dabi’s focus sharpened. His brows furrowed in concentration, and his hand moved with surprising precision. Aldon had tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help sneaking gnces at the paper. What had started as random strokes evolved into the jagged outline of a figure, fmes licking at the edges. It didn’t take long for Aldon to recognize the smirking visage of Endeavor, exaggerated and almost cartoonish in its menace.
When Aldon teased him about it, Dabi had leaned back in his chair, his smirk growing wider. “Art therapy, right?” he quipped, tossing the pencil onto the table.
Aldon ughed, shaking his head. “I’m not sure this counts as therapy, but I’ll give you points for creativity.”
“Hey, you’re the one who said I needed to express myself,” Dabi retorted, crossing his arms. “Consider this my masterpiece.”
Despite his sarcastic tone, there was something unspoken in the way Dabi gnced at the drawing—a flicker of something deeper, more personal. Aldon didn’t press, but he couldn’t ignore the way his chest tightened at the sight. These moments, however small, felt like cracks in Dabi’s carefully constructed armor, glimpses of the person he used to be.
It wasn’t perfect. Dabi’s snark and stubbornness made every step forward feel like a battle, but Aldon didn’t mind. For every sarcastic remark, there was a fleeting moment of vulnerability, and for every mess they made, there was ughter that echoed through the apartment, chasing away the shadows. It was progress, and Aldon clung to it like a lifeline.
He could feel the shift in Dabi, subtle but present, and it gave him hope. These moments, however small, felt like tiny victories in a battle they were fighting together.
One cool October night, Aldon and Dabi decided to go for a midnight walk. The streets were quiet, save for the occasional hum of a car passing by in the distance. They kept to the shadows, avoiding well-lit areas to minimize the risk of being seen. For the most part, it was peaceful—a rare moment of calm in their otherwise turbulent lives.
“Why do I let you talk me into these things?” Aldon asked as they strolled down a narrow alley.
“Because you’re too boring to think of anything better,” Dabi replied with a smirk, his hands casually shoved into his own coat.
Aldon rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. There was a strange calmness to the city at this hour, the kind that made him feel like the rest of the world had paused for just a moment.
As they turned a corner, the faint red-and-blue glow of police lights caught their attention. The colors danced against the walls of a nearby nightclub, the rhythmic pulse of music spilling faintly into the alley. Several police cars were parked outside, officers moving in and out of the building with purpose.
“What’s going on over there?” Aldon wondered aloud, his brow furrowing.
Dabi, however, grinned mischievously. His sharp blue eyes lit up with an idea as he turned to Aldon. “Ever wonder what it’s like to be a vilin, firefly?”
Aldon frowned, his gaze snapping to Dabi. “What are you talking about?”
Dabi’s grin widened as he gestured toward the nightclub. “You’ve spent your whole life following the rules, pying the hero. But don’t you ever wonder? Just a little?”
Aldon hesitated, unease curling in his stomach. “Touya, whatever you’re thinking—”
“Come on, firefly,” Dabi said, his tone dripping with amusement. “Don’t you ever want to have a little fun?”
“This isn’t what I’d call fun,” Aldon replied, crossing his arms. “What are you pnning?”
Dabi didn’t answer. Instead, he raised a hand, blue fmes crackling to life at his fingertips. Aldon’s eyes widened in arm.
“Are you crazy?!” Aldon hissed, his voice low but panicked. “What are you doing?”
“Trust me,” Dabi said, his grin widening as he let the fmes roar to life, illuminating the alley. The sudden fsh of light and heat caught the attention of the officers nearby, who turned toward the alley with shouts of arm.
“Touya!” Aldon whisper-yelled, his voice tinged with exasperation. “You’re insane!”
“Rex, firefly,” Dabi said, grabbing Aldon’s hand. “Time to run.”
Before Aldon could protest, Dabi took off, pulling him along. The sound of shouts and hurried footsteps echoed behind them as the police gave chase. Aldon’s heart pounded in his chest, both from exertion and the sheer absurdity of the situation.
“Why are we running?!” Aldon demanded, his voice breathless as they darted through a narrow alley.
“Because it’s fun!” Dabi called back, his ughter ringing out into the night. “Try to keep up, firefly!”
Aldon wanted to be furious, but the infectious joy in Dabi’s voice made it impossible. As they rounded another corner, narrowly avoiding a stack of crates, Aldon found himself ughing despite the chaos. The adrenaline coursing through him, the cold air biting at his cheeks—it was exhirating in a way he hadn’t expected.
“You’re going to get us caught!” Aldon’s voice was breathless, tinged with ughter.
“Not if you run faster!” Dabi shot back, gncing over his shoulder with a wild grin.
They rounded another corner and slipped into a narrow alley, the shadows swallowing them whole. Dabi pressed Aldon against the cold brick wall, his hand gripping his arm as they both caught their breath. The sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, and Aldon’s heart pounded—not from the running, but from the sudden closeness. Dabi was inches away, his breath warm against Aldon’s cheek, his sharp blue eyes glinting in the dim light.
“Stay still,” Dabi murmured, his voice low and calm.
Aldon nodded, though his mind was spinning. The weight of Dabi’s hand on his arm, the intensity of his gaze—it was overwhelming. He swallowed hard, his chest tightening for reasons he didn’t entirely understand.
Two officers ran past the mouth of the alley, their voices fading as they continued down the street. The tension lingered for a moment longer before Dabi stepped back, giving Aldon some space. The absence of his closeness felt almost jarring.
“Well, that was fun,” Dabi said with a smirk, running a hand through his hair as if nothing had happened.
Aldon exhaled shakily, his hand brushing against the wall to steady himself. “Your definition of fun is going to get us both arrested.”
“Maybe,” Dabi replied, his tone casual.
“You’re a lunatic,” Aldon said between breaths, shaking his head. “A complete lunatic.”
“And yet, you’re still here,” Dabi replied, his grin unwavering. “Admit it—you had fun.”
Aldon opened his mouth to argue but stopped. He couldn’t deny it. For all the stress and danger, there was something undeniably thrilling about the chase, about letting go of his carefully constructed hero composure and just… living.
“Maybe a little,” Aldon admitted, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
Dabi chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “See? Told you. Life’s more fun when you stop worrying so much.”
Aldon rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile.
Dabi grinned, pushing off the wall. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they double back.”
The two of them slipped back into the shadows, their footsteps quiet against the pavement.
The alley led them to the outskirts of the district, where the remnants of an old, half-destroyed warehouse stood. Its crumbling walls and rusted beams loomed against the dark sky, casting jagged shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly into the night.
Dabi stopped in his tracks, a grin spreading across his face as he tilted his head toward the structure. “What do you think, firefly? Wanna explore?”
Aldon raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a small smile. “You really have a thing for sneaking around, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” Dabi quipped, already heading toward the warped metal door hanging loosely from its hinges.
With a sigh, Aldon followed, unable to suppress his curiosity. The warehouse was eerily quiet, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the hollowed-out walls. Broken crates and forgotten machinery were scattered haphazardly, evidence of a long-abandoned past.
“Creepy, but kind of cool,” Aldon admitted, his eyes scanning the graffiti-streaked walls.
Dabi smirked, his boots crunching over shattered gss.
They wandered deeper, their voices bouncing softly against the cavernous space. Aldon found himself trailing his fingers along the cold metal of a rusted railing while Dabi peeked into an overturned crate, muttering something about treasure hunting.
It wasn’t until they reached the center of the warehouse that the sound of raindrops began to echo faintly through the open space. Aldon paused, tilting his head up to see a rge hole in the ceiling. Through it, the night sky shimmered faintly, stars peeking through a veil of clouds. Rain trickled down, catching the faint light and creating an almost ethereal glow.
“Looks like we’re stuck in a rain,” Aldon said softly, his voice carrying a hint of awe as he watched the raindrops fall.
“Stuck?” Dabi repeated, stepping closer with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’d say we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.”
Aldon turned to him, eyebrows raised in question. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Dabi extended his hand, palm up, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “May I have this dance?”
Aldon blinked, caught off guard. A ugh bubbled from his lips. “You are crazy tonight.”
“I know,” Dabi said simply, his grin widening.
Shaking his head, Aldon hesitated for a moment before pcing his hand in Dabi’s. “Super crazy.”
“And you like it,” Dabi shot back, pulling him a step closer.
The rain continued to fall, a soft patter against the concrete as Dabi pced a hand lightly on Aldon’s waist. Their movements were hesitant at first, more of a sway than a proper dance. But the awkwardness quickly began to fade as Dabi spun Aldon unexpectedly, earning a startled ugh.
“You’re worse at this than chopping vegetables,” Aldon teased, his cheeks flushed from the cold rain and something else entirely.
“Careful,” Dabi warned, his tone pyful. “I might just accidentally step on your foot.”
Their ughter echoed through the empty warehouse, blending with the steady rhythm of the rain. For a fleeting moment, Dabi let himself get lost in the sound of it—the easy warmth in Aldon’s ugh, the way it softened the edges of his own rough exterior. It was unfamiliar, unnerving even, but he didn’t pull away.
Instead, he gnced down at Aldon, noting the way his damp hair clung to his face, the way his eyes shone with unguarded joy. It was the kind of expression Dabi hadn’t seen in years—one that wasn’t twisted by fear or hardened by betrayal.
Why does he look at me like that? Dabi thought, his jaw tightening.
He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t reconcile the firefly who had stayed so stubbornly by his side with the boy he used to know. Aldon had always been soft-hearted, even as a kid, but this… this was something else entirely. It wasn’t just softness. It was resolve.
Dabi let out a quiet scoff, his lips twitching into a half-smirk. What are you trying to prove, Aldon?
The thought lingered as they swayed together, the cold rain soaking through their clothes. Dabi’s mind began to wander, unbidden memories creeping in at the edges. He thought of Sekoto Peak—the way the air smelled after it rained, the way Aldon’s ughter used to echo through the trees as they chased fireflies. He thought of the promises they’d made back then, the na?ve dreams they’d shared of becoming heroes together.
What would that kid think if he saw me now?
The question hit harder than Dabi expected. He could almost picture it—his younger self staring back at him, wide-eyed and horrified, asking how things had gone so wrong.
Aldon’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft and almost hesitant. “You’re doing fine,” he said with a smile. “For someone who dances like a vilin.”
Dabi chuckled, the sound low and genuine, though it didn’t fully mask the ache in his chest. “And you’re the hero who lets me.”
Why do you let me?
He didn’t say it aloud, but the question burned in his mind. He wanted to ask Aldon why he stayed, why he kept looking at him like there was still something worth saving. It wasn’t fair. Dabi didn’t deserve that kind of faith—not after everything he’d done, everything he’d become.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, Dabi tightened his hold on Aldon’s waist, pulling him a fraction closer. It was selfish, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. For all his protests, for all his sharp words and sarcastic quips, Aldon’s presence was a lifeline he didn’t know how to let go of.
The rain fell harder, its rhythm matching the erratic beat of Dabi’s heart. He gnced at Aldon again, his sharp blue eyes scanning the hero’s face. The vulnerability there, the quiet determination, the way Aldon seemed so utterly unshakable in his belief—it was maddening. Comforting, yes, but also suffocating.
What happens when you realize you’re wrong about me?
The thought was bitter, twisting in his chest like a knife. Dabi had spent years building walls, turning his pain into anger, his anger into fire. He didn’t know how to exist outside of that. And yet, Aldon’s faith in him was like a flickering fme in the darkness, too bright to ignore and too fragile to trust.
“You’re impossible,” Aldon said suddenly, his voice pulling Dabi back to the present.
“And you love it,” Dabi shot back, spinning him again.
Their ughter filled the empty warehouse, but Dabi’s thoughts remained heavy. As the dance slowed, as the world narrowed to the soft sound of rain and the warmth of Aldon’s hand in his, Dabi let himself wonder—just for a moment—if maybe, just maybe, he could believe in Aldon’s faith.
Not yet. Not fully. But the flicker of hope was there, stubborn and unrelenting, just like Aldon himself.
The dance carried on, unhurried and imperfect, but to Aldon, it was perfect in its own way. The rain poured down around them, soaking their clothes and chilling their skin, but the warmth in Dabi’s gaze and the rare vulnerability in his touch were enough to make Aldon forget the cold.
As the final turn left them facing each other again, their breaths mingled in the cool air. Dabi’s smirk returned, softer this time.
For once, Aldon didn’t know what to say. He simply enjoyed the moment, his heart thudding in his chest as they stood there, the rain washing away everything but the fragile connection between them.
The rain had eased to a misty drizzle by the time their dance slowed to a stop. Aldon and Dabi remained still for a few moments longer, their breaths mingling in the cool night air as they stared at each other. The weight of the moment hung between them, fragile yet profound.
“We should head back,” Aldon said softly, his voice breaking the quiet.
Dabi nodded, his smirk faint but genuine. “Yeah, before you catch a cold.”
The two made their way out of the abandoned warehouse, the rain finally coming to a stop as they stepped into the open air. The city was quiet, the faint glow of streetlights reflecting off the damp pavement. They walked in silence, the crisp October air wrapping around them as their footsteps echoed softly.
As they passed by a small park, Aldon paused. Something had caught his eye—a tiny light flickering near the ground. He tilted his head, curiosity piqued.
“What is it?” Dabi asked, following his gaze.
Aldon stepped off the path, heading toward the source of the light. As he approached, he realized what it was—a firefly, its soft glow pulsing gently in the darkness. More flickered nearby, their golden light dancing around a small pond in the center of the park.
“Fireflies,” Aldon said, a smile tugging at his lips. He gnced back at Dabi. “Do you remember, Touya?”
Dabi stilled, his sharp blue eyes following the fireflies’ movements. Memories stirred, unbidden and bittersweet. He stepped closer, his boots crunching softly against the damp grass.
“When we were kids,” Aldon continued, his voice quiet and warm, “we used to chase them. You were always better at catching them than I was.”
Dabi’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “You were terrible at it,” he murmured. “You’d run right past them, waving your arms like a lunatic.”
A soft ugh escaped Aldon. “I was enthusiastic.”
One of the fireflies floated closer, nding delicately on Dabi’s outstretched hand. He stared at it, the tiny glow reflecting in his eyes. For a moment, the years fell away, and he was a boy again—running through the woods at Sekoto Peak, ughing as Aldon trailed behind him, trying and failing to keep up.
The firefly took off, its glow fading into the night. Dabi’s gaze lingered on his hand before he let it drop to his side.
Aldon motioned to a nearby bench, and they sat down together, their silence companionable. The fireflies continued their gentle dance around the pond, their light casting a soft glow over the park.
“I never told you,” Aldon began, his voice barely above a whisper. “How I felt when I found out you were gone.”
Dabi turned to him, his expression unreadable. He didn’t interrupt, letting Aldon continue.
“I didn’t believe it,” Aldon said, his gaze fixed on the fireflies. “I kept going back to Sekoto Peak for weeks, hoping… praying that I’d see you again. That you’d just walk out of the trees and tell me it was all some horrible joke.”
Dabi’s chest tightened, but he said nothing.
“When you didn’t, I—I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I’d lost a part of myself. You were my best friend, Touya. And you were supposed to be a hero.” Aldon swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly. “I decided to use the nickname you gave me as my hero name. Firefly. It was my way of honoring you. And I kept wondering if… if you’d be proud of me.”
Aldon turned to Dabi then, his eyes shining with a mix of vulnerability and quiet determination. “And now, here you are. Alive. And no matter what’s happened, no matter what you’ve done… I’m happy you’re here.”
Aldon hesitated, gncing briefly at Dabi, whose expression remained guarded. He knew better than to expect answers, to demand expnations for the pain and anger that clung to Touya like a second skin. Dabi wouldn’t tell him everything, not now, maybe not ever. But that didn’t stop Aldon from silently bming Endeavor for what had happened. For all of it.
“I know you’re not ready to tell me everything,” Aldon said softly, his gaze returning to the pond. “And I won’t ask. But I can’t pretend I don’t see the weight you carry. Or that I don’t bme him—your father—for putting it there.”
Dabi stiffened slightly but didn’t reply, his eyes flicking toward Aldon with an unreadable expression.
“And… I want you to know,” Aldon continued, his voice steady, “I don’t have any intentions of stopping you, whatever your goal is. It’s not my pce. I just—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I just want to be here for this. For these moments we get to share. Because no matter where this path leads you… or me… I’ll always cherish this.”
Dabi stared at him, the weight of Aldon’s words pressing heavily on his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. For once, his usual sharp retorts and sarcastic quips failed him. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the fireflies, his jaw tightening as he tried to process the emotions swirling within him.
Aldon smiled softly, sensing Dabi’s turmoil but not pushing him to respond. Instead, he leaned back against the bench, letting the silence settle between them. The glow of the fireflies reflected in the still water of the pond, their gentle light a stark contrast to the chaos that had defined so much of their lives.
The glow of the fireflies softened the edges of the night, their gentle light dancing across the pond’s surface. Dabi sat stiffly on the bench beside Aldon, his arms resting on his knees and his hands csped loosely together. He stared at the ground, his sharp blue eyes darting occasionally toward the pond but never lingering long.
Aldon’s words hung in the air like a faint echo, impossible to ignore.
“And now, here you are. Alive. And no matter what’s happened, no matter what you’ve done… I’m happy you’re here.”
Happy.
The word felt foreign to Dabi, almost ughable in its absurdity. How could anyone be happy about him —what he’d become? He was a walking contradiction, a shattered remnant of a life that had burned away long ago. And yet, sitting here, hearing Aldon say those words, there was a flicker of something buried deep within him—something that cwed at the edges of his carefully constructed walls.
Dabi clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed firmly on his hands. He hated this. Hated the way Aldon’s unwavering belief in him made him feel exposed. Vulnerable. It was easier to py the vilin, to lean into the chaos and destruction, than to confront the quiet longing for something he had long since convinced himself he didn’t deserve.
Why do you have to care so much? he thought bitterly. Why can’t you just give up, like everyone else?
But he already knew the answer. Aldon had always been like this—stubborn, loyal, and maddeningly compassionate. It was part of what had drawn Dabi to him in the first pce, all those years ago.
Aldon shifted beside him, leaning back against the bench with a soft sigh. The quiet acceptance in his posture, the way he gave Dabi space without demanding a response—it was disarming in a way Dabi couldn’t put into words.
His mind repyed Aldon’s confession, each word chipping away at the armor he wore so tightly.
“I kept going back to Sekoto Peak for weeks, hoping… praying that I’d see you again.”
The image of Aldon, younger and smaller, wandering through the woods alone, waiting for someone who would never come—it hit harder than Dabi wanted to admit. He had been so consumed by his own pain, his own anger, that he’d never stopped to think about what his absence might have done to Aldon. He hadn’t let himself think about it.
A firefly floated close, its tiny glow catching Dabi’s attention. Without thinking, he extended his hand, watching as it nded delicately on his scarred fingers. The small, fragile light felt like a cruel contrast to the destruction he carried with him everywhere he went.
Dabi gnced at Aldon out of the corner of his eye. The hero was watching the fireflies with a soft, wistful expression, the golden light reflecting in his eyes. He looked peaceful, almost content—a stark contrast to the storm raging inside Dabi.
“Touya…” Aldon’s voice broke the quiet, his tone tentative. “You don’t have to say anything, but—”
“I don’t want you to look at me like that,” Dabi interrupted, his voice low but firm. He didn’t look at Aldon as he spoke, his gaze fixed on the firefly in his hand. “Like I’m someone worth saving.”
Aldon blinked, startled by the sudden admission. “But you are,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the weight of the words. “You always have been.”
Dabi let out a bitter ugh, shaking his head. “You’re wrong. I’m not that kid you used to know, Aldon. That person’s dead.”
“No,” Aldon replied, his tone soft but resolute. “He’s not. He’s right here, whether you want to believe it or not.”
The firefly took off, its glow fading as it disappeared into the night. Dabi lowered his hand, the tension in his shoulders visible even in the dim light. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He wanted to push Aldon away, to sh out and break this fragile moment before it could dig any deeper into him. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was too te.
Instead, he let the silence stretch, his eyes fixed on the pond. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than before.
“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, his tone cking its usual edge. “You know that, right?”
Aldon chuckled softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ve been told.”
Dabi’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he quickly masked it with a scoff. He leaned back against the bench, his arms draping casually along the top. “Don’t expect me to start holding hands and singing kumbaya,” he said, his tone regaining a bit of its usual sarcasm. “This isn’t some fairytale ending.”
“I’m not expecting anything,” Aldon said simply. “I just want to be here. For as long as you’ll let me.”
The words hit Dabi harder than he’d anticipated. He didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, but he let his gaze drift back to Aldon. The quiet determination in his double-colored eyes, the way he sat there so calmly, so openly —it was maddening. And yet, it was also the one thing keeping Dabi from walking away.
For now, he would let this moment exist. He would let Aldon’s presence be enough, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say the words that lingered on the tip of his tongue.
Thank you.
Instead, he leaned his head back, closing his eyes as the cool night air brushed against his face. The fireflies continued their quiet dance around them, their gentle light a silent witness to the unspoken connection between the two men.
Dabi exhaled slowly, his thoughts racing. He knew it was too te—he was already attached to Aldon. No matter how much he tried to keep his distance, to push him away with sharp words and deflection, Aldon’s stubborn warmth had burrowed into him, breaking through walls he thought were impenetrable.
It was selfish, and he knew it. Aldon deserved so much more than someone like him—someone whose life was a mess of broken promises and scars that could never fully heal. But even knowing that, Dabi couldn’t let go. As foolish as it was, he wanted to keep this angel by his side. He couldn’t imagine walking away from the one person who saw him, even in all his fws, and still stayed.
The fireflies glowed brighter against the dark backdrop of the night, their tiny lights mirroring the fragile hope that had begun to flicker in Dabi’s heart. He allowed himself to admit—just to himself—that maybe he didn’t want to face the world without Aldon anymore.
By the time they returned to Aldon’s apartment, it was well past 2 a.m. The streets were quiet, the city wrapped in the stillness of the early morning. Dabi followed Aldon inside, his usual swagger softened by the exhaustion of the night.
“We should take a shower,” Aldon said, already heading toward the bathroom. “We’re soaked.”
Dabi raised an eyebrow, his smirk faint. “You’re bossy when you’re tired.”
Aldon waved him off with a tired smile. “You’re dripping rainwater on my floor.”
After Aldon showered and changed into soft, worn pajamas, he tossed a fresh towel and a set of clothes to Dabi—a slightly oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Here,” he said, brushing his damp hair out of his face. “They’re my brother’s. Naoki and Yuki leave stuff here sometimes when they crash for the night.”
Dabi raised an eyebrow, holding up the shirt with mild suspicion. “Your brother’s, huh? What is he, seven feet tall?”
Aldon rolled his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He’s not that tall. Just try it on—it’s better than sitting around in wet clothes.”
“Better for who?” Dabi muttered.
“Just go,” Aldon groaned, suppressing a ugh. “The bathroom’s yours.”
Dabi mumbled something under his breath, grabbed the clothes, and disappeared into the bathroom.
When Dabi emerged, his damp hair sticking to his forehead and the shirt hanging loose on his frame, Aldon was already tidying up the living room. Dabi tossed his soaked coat onto a chair and gnced toward the couch, fully prepared to park himself there for the night.
“Couch again, huh?” he muttered, stretching zily.
Aldon hesitated, his fingers brushing the edge of the bnket he’d just folded. “You know,” he began carefully, not quite meeting Dabi’s eyes, “you don’t have to sleep out here tonight.”
Dabi raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Oh? Got a guest room I don’t know about?”
Aldon’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he managed a small, sheepish smile. “I meant… we could share the bed. If you want.”
The room fell quiet, the soft hum of the heater filling the space between them. Dabi tilted his head, studying Aldon with an unreadable expression. “You sure, Aldon?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
Aldon nodded, his gaze still averted. “Yeah. I mean, it’s just for sleeping, right? And… it’s more comfortable than the couch.”
For a moment, Dabi didn’t reply, his sharp blue eyes flicking between Aldon and the staircase. Then, with a shrug, he said, “Alright. But if you snore, I’m out.”
Aldon rolled his eyes, ughing softly as he headed to the bedroom. “You’re the one who probably snores.”
Dabi followed a few moments ter, the tension of the offer still lingering faintly in the air. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of the moon through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the walls. Aldon was already under the covers, lying on the far side of the bed. Dabi hesitated briefly before slipping in on the opposite side, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.
They y there in silence, both staring at the ceiling. The bed suddenly felt too small, every movement magnified in the stillness. Neither dared to shift closer, an invisible line drawn between them.
“Goodnight,” Aldon murmured, his voice barely audible.
“Night,” Dabi replied, his tone equally soft.
Aldon’s breathing evened out after a few minutes, signaling he’d fallen asleep. Dabi y still, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his thoughts a tangled mess. The warmth of the room, the steady rhythm of Aldon’s breathing, and the faint scent of rain still lingering in the air created a strange sense of calm.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes lingering on Aldon’s peaceful expression. The words slipped out before he could stop them, barely more than a whisper. “Thank you.”
For everything. For seeing me. For staying.
The weight of the night finally caught up with him, and Dabi closed his eyes, letting the quiet pull him into sleep.
Dabi stirred in the darkness, his throat dry and his mind hazy from sleep. Groaning softly, he shifted, intending to get up and grab a gss of water from the kitchen. But as he moved, he felt something—a weight on his chest, warm and unmoving.
He froze, blinking in the dim light filtering through the curtains. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and when they did, he realized what it was. Aldon had curled up against him, one arm draped across his torso, his head nestled just below Dabi’s shoulder. His breath was slow and even, soft puffs of warmth ghosting over Dabi’s colrbone.
Dabi stiffened, staring down at the sleeping figure in mild disbelief. His first instinct was to shove Aldon off, to recim his space, to keep himself from getting too used to this kind of thing. But he didn’t move. The faint rise and fall of Aldon’s chest against his own, the way his fingers twitched slightly in his sleep, the peaceful expression on his face—it was grounding. For a moment, Dabi just y there, unsure of what to do.
He gnced at the clock on the wall, then back at Aldon. With a quiet sigh, he let his head fall back against the pillow, his lips twitching into something between a smirk and a grimace. “Guess you’re braver asleep than awake, firefly,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
The longer he stayed still, the more his own tension began to melt away. The warmth radiating from Aldon was soothing, a sensation Dabi hadn’t realized he missed—human contact, closeness, something more than fleeting. It had been years since he’d let himself be near someone like this, without walls, without distance. It was strange. Unsettling.
…Comfortable.
Hesitantly, almost awkwardly, Dabi moved his arm. He wrapped it loosely around Aldon, his hand resting against the small of Aldon’s back. The fabric of his sleep shirt was soft beneath his fingertips, thin enough that Dabi could feel the faint warmth of skin underneath. The gesture felt foreign, strange, but not unwelcome. As he shifted slightly to get comfortable, he found himself pulling Aldon a fraction closer.
A soft noise escaped Aldon at the movement, not quite waking but shifting against him, his fingers tightening slightly in the fabric of Dabi’s shirt. His nose brushed against Dabi’s colrbone, his breath warm where it fanned over the patches of scarred skin.
Dabi’s own breath hitched for a second. His throat felt tight.
What the hell am I doing?
His free hand twitched against the bnket, resisting the urge to move—to pull away or to reach out further, he wasn’t sure. Instead, he let out a slow exhale and, after a beat of hesitation, lowered his chin slightly, pressing his nose into Aldon’s hair.
The soft strands tickled against his skin, carrying the faint scent of whatever shampoo Aldon used. It smelled like home, though Dabi wasn’t sure why he thought that, nor did he want to linger on the thought too long. But the sensation was grounding in a way that made his chest feel tight, his stomach unsettled.
He let his eyes drift shut, inhaling slowly, his fingers curling slightly against Aldon’s back.
I shouldn’t be doing this. I should push him away.
And yet, he didn’t move.
His grip tightened slightly, a small, selfish part of him hoping the moment would st a little longer.
“Guess I’m the one breaking the rules now,” Dabi whispered, his voice low and rough, tinged with something softer. His fingers curled slightly against the fabric of Aldon’s shirt, holding on instead of letting go.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Dabi allowed himself to rex completely. Whatever chaos waited for them in the morning, he wasn’t thinking about it now.
As sleep began to pull him under again, Dabi tightened his hold just slightly, a small, selfish part of him hoping the moment would st a little longer.
