Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

The Invader

You'd been staring out of the window for the longest time. Your music was playing a little quieter now you were sat in your own house, no humans around begging for their thoughts to be shared with you, whether any party involved wanted it or not.
You liked the sound though. The illusion that people were surrounding you, even as you sat entirely alone in your empty house.
You'd been watching people pass, the moonlight lighting up their faces enough for you to make out the features of strangers that passed.

You'd been making up back stories about them as they passed, going off their body language, the look in their eyes. It was one of your favourite past times.
If you'd have been blessed with a different Quirk, you would have loved to be able to integrate yourself into society properly instead of shying away from people. You loved people. And you loved people watching.
You couldn't remember at what point you'd fallen asleep though. Your head was resting against the cool glass, soothing music playing, the volume so quiet it seemed almost distant.
But that's why you heard it. The clattering in the living room.

Your head bolts away from the glass, your piercing, yellow eyes immediately moving towards the door of your bedroom.
You silently do the maths in your head. Could it be Sota? It may be Sota. This was a quiet, peaceful neighbourhood. No such things as intruders before. It wouldn't be the first time your brother had turned up at the dead of night, upset over the guy he so desperately wanted, but couldn't seem to get. He'd never just let himself in before though, respecting your privacy enough to at least knock before entering.

Had he knocked? You'd been asleep, and the walls weren't so thin that you'd be able to hear it if he had. Your door remains shut, but the sounds of crashing, dragging and clattering still echo through your house. You bite your lip.
Sota wouldn't create that much noise. It sounded like someone was genuinely tearing your home apart. Looking for something.
You look outside again, hoping someone, anyone would be outside, someone you could call to for help. You pat yourself down before realising that you'd left your phone over in the living room. The exact place the ruckus was coming from.

You couldn't even pick up on the thoughts of the intruder, the walls acting as a barrier between you, and the thief you expected had let themselves into your house.
In a rare bid of bravery, you brace yourself, and scoot yourself off your windowsill, making your way over to your bedroom door, opening it as slowly as humanly possible in fear of it creaking and giving away your presence. Once it was open wide enough for you to squeeze your head through, you do, looking down the darkened corridor, trying to catch a glimpse of the cause of the noise. A single thought. Anything that would tell you who was in your apartment right now.

'Fuck.' A deep, raspy voice says, the sound echoing in your own head. 'I fucked it. Shigaraki is going to kill me.'
Shigaraki. That name sounded familiar, but you couldn't quite place it. Where had you heard that name before?
The voice speaks up again. 'Where the fuck is the first aid kit?'
Your heart drops. It wasn't an intruder, not a malicious one. Someone was hurt, probably scared. They needed your help.
You open the door fully, turning the light on in the corridor, wanting to be able to see the extent of their injuries.

"Hello?" You call, taking slow and careful steps towards the living room at the end of the corridor.
'Shit.' The raspy voice thinks again, another clattering sound coming from the room you were nearing.
You creak the door open slowly, your head peeking around the wood slowly.
Blue flames light the entire room up, revealing the intruder that had been crashing around in the darkness fully.

He's a little taller than you. Lean, but muscular from what you can see through his torn, blood stained shirt. He wears a long, black jacket that's equally as torn up as his shirt. His hair is messy, black, standing and spiking in every which direction. His body is riddled with large patches of scars, the skin puckered, and a slight purple hue. They even extended to his face, his entire bottom half of his face scarred, rough. The bags under his eyes were large purple scars too.
The staples that lined the two types of skin, keeping the man intact, glowed blue from the flames that covered his hands as he stared at you, his azure blue eyes staring straight at you. Bored. Indifferent.

"Don't make a scene." He warns, lowly.
"I wasn't going to." You say. His thoughts seem a little muddled all of a sudden, like he was fighting himself over something.
"As you can see, I'm pretty fucked up." He says, turning off the flames on one side of his body to gesture at his torn up skin. "Make yourself useful and help. Maybe I'll let you live."
You nod, pointing at the still flaming arm. "Turn that off."
He chuckles darkly. "Do you not understand the situation you're in right now?"
He grabs your face tight, turning the flames off as requested, looking down at you as though you were dirt on his shoe.

"Fix me up, otherwise I'll turn you to ash." He drawls, slowly. "Got it, doll?"
"Crystal clear." You murmur through his grasp.
"Good." He says, shoving your head away. "Hurry up then."
You give him one last once over before you turn away, ignoring the burning intensity he was looking at you with.

You remember what he reminded you of now. He looked like one of those Renaissance paintings Sota had loved growing up. Like one of the gods you'd seen time and time again in Sota's bedroom. Except with more scars, more piercings and more crassness.
He was so, beautifully unique.