The television screen flickered, casting a cold glow across Aldon’s dimly lit apartment. The scene pying out before him left the world breathless—the battle between the new Number One Hero, Endeavor, and the monstrous High-End Nomu. Fmes scorched the sky, and buildings trembled under the force of their csh. Hawks, as quick and precise as ever, weaved through the air, assisting Endeavor as best he could.

  Aldon sat on the couch, his fingers pressed against his lips, watching the screen with unblinking eyes. The battle was brutal, relentless. For a moment, Endeavor faltered, and Aldon’s heart clenched. Was this how it was going to end? After everything, was this how the world would lose its new Number One?

  Then, with a mighty burst of fire, Endeavor rose again, his fmes burning brighter than ever before. The city erupted into cheers. The words of the reporter rang through the speakers: “Endeavor still stands!”

  Aldon exhaled sharply, his chest tightening. But just as relief began to set in, the screen shifted, showing a new figure appearing amidst the ruins. Dark hair, burnt flesh, and eyes of smoldering blue. The room suddenly felt colder.

  Dabi.

  Aldon sat up straighter, his heartbeat pounding in his ears as he listened. Dabi had come to taunt Endeavor, his voice dripping with venom. But for Aldon, there was something else in his words—something beneath the rage. Something only Aldon could see.

  Pain.

  Aldon watched as Dabi’s lips curled into a twisted grin before he vanished into a strange goo portal, leaving behind nothing but flickering blue embers in his wake. The broadcast ended shortly after, cutting back to the studio where analysts scrambled to process what had just happened. But Aldon wasn’t listening anymore.

  Did Dabi pnned this? Why would he have such perfect timing to appear?

  Aldon closed his eyes, pressing his fingers against his temples. He had known for so long what Endeavor had done, what Touya had suffered. And yet, watching it unfold like this... knowing the man who had once been his best friend might have orchestrated this entire thing—it left an ache in his chest that refused to fade.

  Night of the same day

  The knock at Aldon’s front door was soft, hesitant.

  Aldon froze mid-step, his brows furrowing in confusion. Dabi had never used the front door. It was always the balcony, slipping in unseen like a ghost in the night. Maybe it was someone else.

  Cautiously, he approached the door, unlocking it before pulling it open just enough to peer outside. His breath hitched.

  Dabi stood there, shoulders hunched, hair disheveled, and those piercing blue eyes clouded with something dangerously fragile. His face was paler than usual, exhaustion pulling at his features. And then Aldon saw it—the blood dripping from the corner of Dabi’s eyes.

  Aldon didn’t hesitate. He reached out, pulling Dabi inside.

  “You’re using the front door now?” Aldon tried for levity, his voice light but ced with concern. “That’s new.”

  Dabi let out a hollow chuckle, stepping inside fully before leaning against the wall. “Yeah, well… figured I’d shake things up.” His voice was raw, strained.

  Aldon crossed his arms, studying him. “You were there, weren’t you? The Nomu… was that your pn?”

  Dabi grinned, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “You catch on quick, firefly.”

  Aldon inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Touya, what were you thinking?”

  Dabi let out a dry, humorless ugh as he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembling slightly. “I was thinking that I wanted to see his face when everything fell apart. Wanted to watch him burn in his own damn fmes.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the fury bubbling just beneath the surface.

  Aldon swallowed, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He had told Dabi before—he wouldn’t stand in his way. And yet, watching him unravel like this, hearing the sheer anguish in his voice, it was unbearable.

  Dabi took a sharp breath, his grin fading as his gaze darkened. “You know what the worst part is?” His voice wavered, eyes glistening. “He didn’t even recognize me.”

  Aldon’s breath hitched.

  “My own father.” Dabi’s hands trembled as he clenched them at his sides. “I stood right in front of him. Right there. And nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition. His own dead son, breathing the same air as him, and he—” His voice cracked as his knees buckled slightly.

  Aldon caught him without thinking, steadying him as Dabi clung to his shirt. “Touya...”

  Dabi let out a ragged breath, his fingers tightening in Aldon’s fabric. “But you,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “You knew. The second you saw me, you knew.” His head fell against Aldon’s shoulder, his body trembling. “How the hell did you know, Aldon? How did you see me when my own father couldn’t?”

  Aldon’s throat tightened. He could feel the wet warmth of blood seeping through his shirt where Dabi pressed against him, but he didn’t care. He wrapped his arms around Dabi, holding him tightly, his hand resting against the back of his head.

  Dabi’s breath was unsteady, ragged as he ughed hollowly, the sound scraping at the walls of Aldon’s heart. His fingers trembled where they curled into fists at his sides, his body wound so tight it looked like he might shatter at the slightest touch.

  “Everything sucks,” Dabi choked out, his voice raw, cracking under the weight of too many emotions forced down for too long. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his teeth gritted behind the bitter smile pulling at his lips. “It’s all so damn complicated. I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.”

  Aldon stood his ground, watching as Dabi wiped his face roughly, smearing blood across his palm. The crimson streaked over his scars, dripping down his jaw, painting his skin like the cruelest kind of proof.

  Dabi’s hand shook as he held it up between them, the blood stark against his pale fingers. His sharp blue eyes flickered toward Aldon, dark with self-loathing. “Look at this,” he rasped, his voice dropping into something nearly hollow. “This is all I am now. Blood and stitches and fire. Just a damn monster. That’s it. That’s all that’s left.”

  Aldon’s throat tightened, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t recoil, didn’t step back. Instead, he did the opposite.

  He reached out, slowly, and carefully took Dabi’s bloodstained hand in his own, curling his fingers gently around it. The warmth of Aldon’s skin pressed against Dabi’s, firm and steady, unwavering in the face of the storm raging inside the man before him.

  Dabi tensed, startled by the touch, but Aldon didn’t let him pull away.

  “You’re not a monster,” Aldon whispered, his voice gentle but resolute. He brought Dabi’s trembling hand to his chest, pressing it lightly over his heart. “You’re Touya.”

  Dabi’s breath hitched. His fingers twitched against Aldon’s shirt, curling slightly like he wanted to grasp onto something—anything—but didn’t know how.

  Aldon’s other hand came up, cupping Dabi’s jaw, his thumb brushing along the stitches lining his cheek. His fingers brushed against scar tissue, unbothered, undeterred, as if every ruined piece of him was still worth holding. His touch was featherlight, careful, as though he were afraid Dabi might vanish if he wasn’t gentle enough.

  “You think this,” Aldon murmured, his fingers ghosting over the blood still staining Dabi’s cheek, “makes you a monster?” Slowly, he lifted his hand and wiped at the blood himself, swiping his thumb across Dabi’s skin without hesitation, without disgust. “You’re wrong.”

  Dabi’s lips parted slightly, his pupils blown wide, his entire body locked in pce like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to lean in or run.

  Aldon let the blood stain his fingers, his own shirt smudged red where Dabi had touched him earlier, but he didn’t care. He never cared about things like that when it came to Touya. “Monsters don’t cry when no one is watching. They don’t feel pain like you do.” His hand still cradled Dabi’s face, grounding him, his warmth melting into the cold skin beneath his touch. “Monsters don’t break like this.”

  Dabi’s throat worked around an emotion he couldn’t name, his shoulders trembling. “Then what am I?” he whispered, voice nearly lost to the quiet of the night. “If I’m not a monster, then what the hell am I?”

  Aldon smiled softly, his gaze steady, unwavering. His palm fttened against Dabi’s chest again, feeling the unsteady beat beneath his fingertips. “You’re a boy who was hurt by the people who were supposed to love him. A boy who fought so hard to survive that he convinced himself he had to become someone else to do it.”

  His fingers curled slightly, pressing just a little firmer. “But you don’t have to be that anymore, Touya. You don’t have to be fire and destruction and nothing else.”

  Dabi sucked in a sharp breath. His hands twitched at his sides, curling into fists again like he was trying to keep himself from reaching for Aldon, from holding onto something solid for the first time in what felt like forever.

  Aldon smiled faintly. “I see you, Touya.”

  The dam inside Dabi cracked—splintered apart under the weight of those words. His entire frame shook, his vision blurred, and before he could stop himself, before he could even think about what he was doing, he let out a choked, shuddering breath and let his forehead fall against Aldon’s.

  The contact was desperate, a silent plea, a quiet surrender.

  Aldon didn’t hesitate. His arms wrapped around Dabi, pulling him close, grounding him in something real. He let the blood soak into his shirt, let the warmth of Dabi’s shaking body press against his own. He didn’t care about the stains, about the way Dabi’s fingers clenched into his back like he was terrified Aldon would let go.

  “I don’t know how to stop,” Dabi whispered against Aldon’s shoulder, his voice shattered. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

  Aldon closed his eyes, tightening his hold just a little. “Then let me help you.”

  Dabi exhaled shakily, his fingers trembling where they gripped Aldon’s back. “You mean a lot to me, Aldon.” His voice was so quiet, so fragile, that Aldon almost didn’t hear it. “I know it’s selfish, but I—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “I want you close. Just for myself.”

  Aldon’s heart clenched, but he didn’t pull away. He only smiled softly. “Then stay,” he whispered. “For as long as you need.”

  Dabi exhaled, his body finally rexing as he let himself fall into the warmth Aldon offered. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to be held.

  The room was quiet except for the soft sound of Dabi’s breathing—uneven, ragged, ced with emotions he refused to name. Aldon’s hands remained where they were, one gently cradling Dabi’s cheek, the other resting over his heart. The heat radiating from Dabi’s skin wasn’t from his Quirk but from something deeper, something raw and vulnerable.

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

  Dabi’s chest rose and fell beneath Aldon’s palm, his body tense, as though he was warring with himself, trying to decide if he should stay or pull away. His sharp blue eyes darted across Aldon’s face, searching for any trace of a lie, any hint that he was being mocked. But all he saw was sincerity. A quiet, unwavering belief in him.

  "I see you, Touya," Aldon whispered again, his voice barely audible, his thumb gently stroking along the ruined, scarred skin of Dabi’s cheek. He could feel the tremble beneath his touch, the way Dabi clenched his jaw as if trying to hold himself together.

  A bitter chuckle escaped Dabi’s lips, shaking his head slightly, though he didn’t move away from Aldon’s touch. “You’re so damn stubborn, firefly,” he muttered, voice hoarse, cracking at the edges. “You always have been.”

  Aldon smiled faintly, his fingers continuing their slow, deliberate movements, grounding Dabi. “And you always act like you don’t care when you really do.”

  Dabi’s expression twitched, something flickering behind his tired, pained eyes. He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against Aldon’s, his breath warm against his skin. “You—” He swallowed thickly, gripping Aldon’s waist like he was afraid he might disappear. “You really are something else.”

  Aldon didn’t respond, only leaned into the touch, letting Dabi take what he needed. He could feel how much Dabi was struggling, the weight of everything pressing down on him, suffocating him. And yet, here he was—standing in front of Aldon, clinging to him like he was the st solid thing in a world that kept slipping through his fingers.

  “I don’t deserve this,” Dabi muttered after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.”

  Aldon pulled back just enough to look at him, shaking his head. “That’s not your choice to make.” His hand moved up, fingers threading into Dabi’s dark hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. “I get to decide who I care about. Who I want close to me.” His touch was firm, steady. “And I want you, Touya.”

  Dabi’s entire body tensed at those words. He looked at Aldon as if he were trying to convince himself that this wasn’t real, that Aldon was lying, that this was some kind of sick dream he’d wake up from. But Aldon’s eyes never wavered, never faltered.

  “You’re an idiot,” Dabi finally said, his tone thick with something that wasn’t quite anger, wasn’t quite sadness. “You could have anyone, firefly. Someone good. Someone whole.”

  Aldon huffed a small ugh, resting his forehead against Dabi’s again. “And yet, I’m here with you.”

  Dabi exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip tightening on Aldon’s waist. “Selfish,” he muttered. “I’m selfish, Aldon. You should run. You should walk away before I ruin you.”

  Aldon shook his head, his hand sliding down from Dabi’s cheek to cup the back of his neck, his fingers pressing lightly against the sensitive, scarred skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Dabi clenched his teeth, his eyes darting away like he was trying to fight against the emotions cwing at his chest. He had spent years convincing himself that he didn’t need anyone, that he was better off alone. That attachment only led to pain. And yet, Aldon was here, standing in front of him, holding him like he wasn’t a monster. Like he wasn’t broken beyond repair.

  Dabi stood there for a moment, his sharp blue eyes searching Aldon’s face. Dabi didn’t ask aloud. He didn’t have to. The way he stood there, eyes flickering with something raw and uncertain, was enough. His body wavered slightly, a silent question lingering in the air between them.

  Aldon understood instantly.

  “Stay,” he said, no hesitation in his voice.

  Dabi exhaled, his shoulders sagging slightly as if a weight had been lifted, even if only for tonight.

  “Come on, let’s wash your face,” Aldon said, gently guiding him toward the bathroom.

  Dabi stood by the sink, watching through the mirror as Aldon dampened a cloth under warm water. His hands were steady, careful, as he lifted it to Dabi’s face, wiping away the blood streaks with soft, patient strokes. The scent of iron lingered, but Aldon didn’t flinch at the color, didn’t pull back in disgust. If anything, his touch only became gentler.

  Dabi let him. He didn’t move, didn’t compin, just stood there as Aldon cleaned his face with careful strokes. For a moment, it reminded him of something distant, something from a time before everything burned. But he shoved the thought aside.

  Instead, he let his eyes close as Aldon continued, letting himself sink into the warmth of the moment, the quiet hum of the water running, the softness of hands that saw him and didn’t recoil.

  “Better?” Aldon asked, voice barely above a whisper.

  Dabi swallowed. His throat felt dry. He gave a slight nod.

  When Aldon was satisfied, he set the towel aside, walked off to his bedroom, and rummaged through his closet, pulling out a loose shirt and some sweatpants. As he returned he held them out. “Here,” he said. “Something more comfortable.”

  Dabi took the clothes without a word, his gaze flickering to Aldon’s shirt—the one still damp with the blood he had shed earlier. Aldon caught the look and huffed a small ugh. “I’ll change too,” he said, disappearing into his bedroom.

  As Dabi changed in the bathroom, he exhaled slowly, adjusting the hem of the borrowed shirt. The fabric was softer than he expected—comfortable, warm. He ran a hand through his hair before stepping out.

  The door to Aldon’s bedroom was slightly ajar, a thin sliver of light spilling out into the hallway. Dabi didn’t mean to linger, but as he passed by, his eyes caught on something through the gap.

  Aldon stood by his dresser, peeling his stained shirt off in one fluid motion. The soft glow of the bedside mp bathed his skin in warm light, casting gentle shadows over the curve of his waist and the smooth lines of his body. But it wasn’t Aldon’s figure that made Dabi stop—it was the scar.

  A long, thin mark ran from the center of Aldon’s colrbones down to his belly button, an old surgical line against otherwise unmarred skin. The reminder of the day Aldon nearly died as a kid.

  Dabi remembered—how Aldon once told him, in a voice too bright for the weight of the story, how his quirk burnt him from the inside when it first awakened. How his body couldn’t handle the fire at first. How he had spent weeks in recovery, the pain so unbearable that he could barely breathe.

  But now, seeing the scar with his own eyes, knowing what it meant—it did something to him.

  His stomach twisted uncomfortably, his fingers clenching slightly at his sides. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. Maybe because he knew what it was like to wake up with new scars and pretend they didn’t matter.

  Aldon shifted slightly, turning just enough that Dabi caught sight of his face in the mirror. For a split second, he saw the soft tiredness in Aldon’s features, the way he absentmindedly traced his fingers over the scar as if it was just a part of him now. Like it was normal.

  Dabi jerked his gaze away, scowling to himself. Fuck. He turned quickly, heading downstairs before his mind could linger too long on the image.

  Before the knot in his chest had a chance to tighten.

  By the time Aldon reappeared in the living room, dressed and carrying a warm mug of tea, Dabi had already sat on the couch, looking as if he hadn’t just seen way too much.

  “Here,” Aldon said, handing him the mug. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

  Dabi took it, his fingers brushing against Aldon’s for a fleeting moment before he muttered, “Thanks.”

  Aldon wasn’t done yet. He turned toward the cupboards, rummaging through until he found what he was looking for—chocote and cookies. He pced them on the coffee table before settling down beside Dabi.

  “My mom always told me that chocote is good when your heart is aching,” Aldon said softly. “Figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  Dabi huffed a small ugh, shaking his head. “You and your soft-ass wisdom.”

  “Just eat,” Aldon said, picking up a piece of chocote and holding it out.

  Dabi hesitated but ultimately let Aldon press the sweet against his lips. He took it without compint, chewing slowly.

  Somehow, that small action, that simple care, was more intimate than he was prepared for.

  Aldon sat beside him, and Dabi sprawled out across the couch, making himself comfortable. Before Aldon could even think to protest, Dabi settled his head onto his p, resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world.

  Aldon exhaled, a small smile tugging at his lips as he reached down, threading his fingers through Dabi’s dark strands. He let them glide slowly, soothingly, rubbing his thumb over Dabi’s temple now and then.

  Dabi didn’t stop him.

  Aldon fed him another piece of chocote, his free hand occasionally brushing along Dabi’s cheek, tracing the outlines of scars with careful reverence. Never pity. Never fear. Just warmth.

  They sat like that for a while, the room quiet except for the soft sounds of the TV pying in the background, but neither of them really paid attention to it. The warmth, the quiet—this was enough.

  Mr. Whiskers, ever in tune with emotions, jumped up onto the couch, curling right in front of Dabi. The vilin barely reacted at first, but after a few moments, his arms moved almost instinctively, pulling the cat closer like a plush toy. Mr. Whiskers didn’t protest—in fact, he purred deeply, nestling into Dabi’s chest like he belonged there.

  Aldon smiled at the sight, his hand continuing to move through Dabi’s hair.

  For once, Dabi didn’t fight the comfort.

  He let himself rex against Aldon’s warmth.