The days passed quickly, and before Aldon knew it, September had arrived. The air had begun to cool, signaling the slow shift from summer to autumn. Life at Endeavor’s agency was as busy as ever, filled with patrols, endless paperwork, and missions that left him exhausted by the end of the day.

  But amidst the chaos, there was one thing that kept Aldon grounded: Touya. Over the past few weeks, Dabi had started visiting him more often. He always arrived te at night, slipping in through the balcony, and leaving before dawn. Their conversations never touched on the worlds of heroes or vilins, as if by unspoken agreement. When they were together, it was just the two of them—a quiet haven away from everything else.

  Aldon found himself looking forward to these visits more than he cared to admit. Dabi’s presence was both comforting and complicated, a mix of old familiarity and new tension. They’d sit on the couch, sharing meals or watching TV, sometimes in companionable silence, other times exchanging sharp remarks that always carried an undertone of warmth.

  Despite this fragile peace, the weight of Aldon’s choices pressed on him. He was a hero—a sidekick to the top hero in the country, no less. Harboring a vilin, no matter the context, went against everything he had been taught. Yet, each time he questioned himself, each time the doubt crept in, he’d remember the way Dabi looked at him—like Aldon was the only one who saw him, not just as a vilin, but as Touya.

  Still, the inner conflict refused to subside. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing voice in his head asking if he was doing the right thing.

  At the Agency

  One afternoon, as Aldon went through reports in Endeavor’s office, he felt the urge to speak up. He needed advice, though he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject without revealing too much. Endeavor sat across from him, his stern expression focused on the documents in his hand.

  “Sir,” Aldon began, his voice hesitant, breaking the silence.

  Endeavor gnced up, his stern gaze locking on him. “What is it?”

  Aldon shifted in his seat, fidgeting with the corner of a file. “I… I’ve been thinking a lot about the line between right and wrong. About how sometimes… it feels blurred.”

  Endeavor’s gaze sharpened. “Go on.”

  Aldon struggled to find the right words, his mind racing. “What if someone you cared about made choices that put them on the wrong side of the w? But you knew, deep down, that they weren’t beyond saving. Would you turn your back on them, or would you… try to help them, even if it meant compromising your own position?”

  The silence that followed was thick with tension. Endeavor leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable as he studied Aldon.

  “Firefly,” he said slowly, his tone measured. “As heroes, we’re tasked with upholding the w, but we’re also humans. We’re not immune to the complexities of retionships. Sometimes, the right choice isn’t clear. But whatever you decide for, you have to be prepared to live with the consequences.”

  Aldon’s chest tightened. He nodded, though the turmoil in his heart remained unresolved.

  The conversation was interrupted by a crackle over the agency’s comm system. “We’ve received a report of burnt bodies found behind a restaurant in downtown Musutafu. Requesting hero assistance in the investigation.”

  Endeavor rose immediately. “Let’s move,” he ordered. The urgency of Endeavor’s command left no room for hesitation. Aldon followed him out of the office, the weight of their earlier conversation still lingering in his chest as they moved toward the waiting patrol car, sirens already bring in anticipation.

  This wasn’t just another mission. If Dabi was involved, then every move Aldon made would be scrutinized. Any mistake could expose their fragile connection, not only jeopardizing his career but possibly dragging Dabi into a confrontation he might not survive. Aldon clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He needed to py this carefully—for both their sakes.

  At the Crime Scene

  The alley behind the restaurant was cordoned off with yellow police tape. The acrid stench of burnt flesh hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint scent of smoke. Two charred bodies y near the back door, their shapes barely distinguishable. Police officers moved through the scene, collecting evidence and interviewing witnesses.

  Aldon swallowed hard, his stomach turning at the sight. He’d seen death before, but it never got easier.

  Endeavor was already speaking with the lead detective, his towering presence commanding attention. Aldon approached a nearby officer, who was questioning a young waitress clutching a notebook tightly to her chest.

  “Did anyone see anything unusual?” Aldon asked, keeping his voice calm and professional.

  The waitress nodded hesitantly, her voice trembling. “There was… a blue light. I saw it through the kitchen window just before the fire arms went off. It was so bright, I thought it was some kind of reflection at first.”

  Aldon’s blood ran cold. “Blue light?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Aldon’s heart pounded as the pieces clicked into pce. Blue fmes. There was no mistaking it.

  “Firefly.” Endeavor’s voice broke into his thoughts.

  Aldon turned to find the hero’s sharp gaze fixed on him. “This is Dabi’s work. You’ll assist with the investigation. I want a full report by tomorrow.”

  Aldon nodded, forcing his expression to remain neutral even as his mind raced. The man he had shared quiet evenings with—the one who teased him over burnt pasta—was the same one who had caused this devastation. It felt like a world away from this gruesome scene.

  As the investigation continued, Aldon’s resolve wavered. The line between right and wrong had never felt so blurred, and he couldn’t shake the fear that his choices might one day come back to haunt him.

  That Night

  The soft hum of the city drifted into Aldon’s apartment as he sat in his living room, his thoughts spiraling. The stench of burnt flesh still clung to Aldon’s senses. The haunting images of charred bodies had seared themselves into his mind, refusing to let him rest.

  The faint sound of boots nding on the balcony pulled him from his thoughts. He turned to see Dabi stepping through the open door, shrugging off his coat with his usual nonchance.

  “Smells good in here,” Dabi said, his tone light as he draped the coat over a chair. “Dinner ready, or did you burn it?”

  Aldon rolled his eyes but managed a small smile. “It’s ready. Sit.”

  They ate in near silence, the clink of forks against ptes the only sound. Aldon studied Dabi across the table, the weight of his unspoken question growing heavier with each passing moment. Aldon watched Dabi eat with his usual nonchance, as though nothing in the world could touch him.

  But Aldon couldn’t hold it in any longer. He set his fork down, his hands tightening into fists on the table. “Touya,” he started, his voice hesitant but firm. “The burnt bodies behind the restaurant... Was that you?”

  Dabi leaned back in his chair, his smirk firmly in pce, but something flickered behind his eyes—something he would never name aloud. The weight of Aldon’s question settled like ash in his chest, suffocating but familiar. He could see the pain in Aldon’s expression, the disappointment that stabbed sharper than it should have. It wasn’t supposed to matter. None of this was supposed to matter.

  But it did.

  For a brief, fleeting moment, Dabi’s gaze dropped to his pte, the sharp edge of his smirk softening. The room felt too quiet, too still, and he hated the way Aldon’s presence seemed to pull at the pieces of him he’d buried long ago. He didn’t regret what he’d done—he couldn’t afford to—but he regretted this: the way Aldon looked at him now.

  He clenched his jaw, his voice sharp when he finally spoke again, desperate to crush whatever hope lingered between them. “Yeah, that was me. So what?”

  The bluntness of his admission knocked the air from Aldon’s lungs. His chest tightened, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. He stared at Dabi, his hands clenching into fists on the table. His voice, when it came, was barely above a whisper. “You killed them.”

  The words felt foreign on his tongue, a cold and heavy truth he wasn’t ready to accept. His gaze dropped to the table, his stomach twisting. He thought of the charred bodies, and the acrid stench. His vision blurred, the image of Dabi sitting here, eating so casually, cshing violently with the destruction he’d left behind.

  “You—” Aldon’s voice cracked. “They were people, Touya.”

  Dabi’s smirk faltered briefly as he crossed his arms. “You think it’s that simple, huh? Those people weren’t innocent, firefly. They were scum. Drug runners, extortionists—hell, one of them had a whole racket exploiting kids.” His tone darkened, a simmering anger beneath the surface. “I didn’t burn saints. I burned garbage. Don’t pretend like they deserved better.”

  Aldon’s jaw tightened as his head lowered further, his hands trembling faintly. This can’t be who you are… It can’t be all you are, he thought, though the words never left his lips.

  “What?” Dabi continued, a smirk curling on his lips again. “I’m a vilin. Gonna arrest me now, hero? Drag me to the cops, tell them everything? Go ahead.” His tone was mocking, daring Aldon to act.

  “No,” Aldon said softly, though his voice wavered. He hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to reconcile the man sitting before him with the vilin responsible for the act. “I just... I—”

  “You don’t know what to say, do you?” Dabi snickered, his amusement cutting through the tension like a bde. “God, you’re pathetic sometimes, firefly. Here you are, abandoning your precious hero duty for what? To sit here and py house with me?” He leaned forward, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “If I wanted, I could manipute you so easily. Ever thought about that?”

  Aldon’s chest tightened with frustration, the words boiling to the surface before he could stop them. He smmed his hands on the table. “This isn’t a game to me! I’m not pying anything! I’m here because I care about you, Touya. I don’t want to stand in your way—I just want to be with you!”

  For a moment, Dabi’s smirk faltered. His gaze dropped to the table, the weight of Aldon’s words hanging heavily in the air. “You’re the one who decided to stand in my way. Decided to ‘be there’ for me, whatever the hell that means.”

  The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. For a moment, Dabi’s smirk faded, repced by something unreadable. His mouth opened as if to say something, but no sound came out. He leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the table.

  After a long pause, Dabi spoke again, his voice quieter. “No one’s gonna miss them. If anything, they’re better off feeding my fmes.”

  Aldon’s stomach twisted at the casual way Dabi spoke about taking lives. It went against everything he believed in as a hero, as a person. But he didn’t voice his thoughts—not now. He nodded instead, the motion small and mechanical.

  “It’s fine, firefly,” Dabi said, his tone light but devoid of reassurance. When Aldon looked into his eyes, he saw nothing—no regret, no softness. This wasn’t Touya speaking. This was Dabi.

  The realization settled heavily in Aldon’s chest. He knew change wouldn’t come easily—if it came at all. Dabi was a vilin, a product of a broken system, of pain and loss. Expecting him to change overnight was foolish, and yet Aldon couldn’t help but hope.

  He looked away, his voice barely a whisper. “It’ll take time...”

  “What’s that?” Dabi asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Nothing,” Aldon replied quickly, forcing a weak smile. “Let’s just... finish eating.”

  Dabi shrugged, returning to his pte. But the tension lingered,— the distance between them was very vast today.

  Later that night, Aldon sat alone on the couch, the remnants of their dinner untouched on the table. Mr. Whiskers curled up at his side, purring softly, but Aldon barely noticed. His gaze lingered on the photo of his family on the shelf—their smiling faces now a stark contrast to the weight pressing on his chest.

  “What am I doing?” he whispered into the silence, his voice breaking. The line between Touya and Dabi blurred further with each visit, and Aldon wasn’t sure how much more of this tightrope he could walk before it snapped—before he lost them both.