strangled

⁵⁰heartbreaking explainations

tw: self harm

Dabi wakes up in the same spot he was in the previous night.

But... something is wrong...

Before he opens his eyes fully, his eyebrows furrow as he moves his head around, searching. He could've sworn that he fell asleep to the sound of your heart thumping in your chest a few hours earlier. Had his head shifted as he slept? No, he can still feel your skin against the scarring of his cheek.

So... why can't he hear your heartbeat?

Why aren't your arms holding him like they did last night?

Why isn't your chest moving to prove to him that you're breathing?

His eyes snap open as he scrambles to lift his torso off of yours. The reaction in his body is immediate. His heart is pounding so hard the entirety of his chest hurts.

Dabi's breaths are sharp and erratic. A form of anxiety he can't find the strength to bare overcomes his body, making him feel weaker than he ever felt as a kid. Blue optics stare down at your limp body full of curiosity and worry. The area of your chest no longer raises to signal your lungs inhaling oxygen. Your skin is paling to a dull grey, the life in your body draining right before his petrified gaze.

His hands grip your arms tighter than he intends to. Mouth open exhaling heavy breaths at an unnaturally fast pace, chest heaving; his stoic demeanor is cracking in mere seconds.

"Hey don't-don't do that... (f/n) stop." His voice cracks as he whispers your name. "You're alive right? I know you are. So stop playing around."

The burnt tear ducts in his eyes itch horribly.

He hates this feeling.

"Wha- what's wrong? Wake up!"

No response comes from you.

His eyes widen in shock and an insufferable fear.

He pinches his arm, thinking that he's in a nightmare and that would wake him up, but nothing changes afterwards. Your paling dead body is still laying in front of him. His eyelids blink harshly as his tear ducts begin to become more irritated.

"Stop being an idiot... wake the fuck up (f/n) this isn't funny! Did I hurt you!? Say something already!"

He pulls himself out from you thinking that might be causing you pain. Thoroughly searching your body, he finds a few burn marks in the shape of handprints on both sides of your waist. He assumed that would happen because his fire tends to lose control but would that be enough to kill you?

And what is this empty feeling in his chest?

He can't take it. It's too much to bare.

The heart and soul you had activated in him only feels vacant like-like it had disappeared. Before, his heart just felt cold. Now it's just hollow.

No, now it's gone.

He sobs, droplets of warm blood dripping down his cheeks full of scars. His hands shake your body wildly. "Wake up! Wake up!" A sharp hiss leaves his throat when one his staples drags against a scar on his arm. But he can't focus on the line of blood dripping down onto your sheets. "Shit fucking wake up! Please!"