Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

Fresh Air

The second night was a little easier. Only in the fact that you didn't panic for as long as you had the night before.
Mainly because Dabi had been rather subdued. There had been little threatening, minimal perverse thoughts, and very few cold glances. It was as if he'd crawled into his shell. He kept thinking about his basic needs, like hunger and thirst and how hot he was. As he flicked though his phone you'd get random images of the other members of the League of Villains, a wide array of different women, although he wouldn't make any kind of verbal acknowledgment towards the thoughts in his head. It was just like he was rifling through a picture book silently in his own mind.

Asides from a few short orders asking you for food, water, wary glances whenever you moved and dry warnings whenever you went to leave his sight, Dabi pretty much left you alone. He wasn't the best conversationalist whenever you attempted to try to fill the empty and tense air with conversation, but would occasionally answer with sarcasm, a quip or a short sentence whenever you asked or spoke to him about something that drew his attention enough.
When you asked him about his family, the mental wall went up and his cold, icy gaze hardened as his eyes met yours from the side. When you asked him whether he had a girlfriend or not, he scoffed, a smug grin pulling at his sutures as he lazily gave you a once over and made a very poorly received quip about how bad you must want him.

If he continued being how he had been last night, you could see yourself easily falling for the potential charade that he may allow you to live after this. He certainly hadn't thought about killing you yet, which was a slight relief if you didn't think too long about the fact that he may have sussed out that your Quirk wasn't actually a polygraph one.
You wait in your room, waiting for him to call you in like he had the morning before. It was silent this time, no quiet talking to someone on the phone, no heavy and slow footsteps, no creaking of the sofa, no smell of smoke. Just absolute silence, and that almost scared you more than the sound of his raspy voice travelling through the walls while you waited like some kind of pet to be allowed out of your room.

When it gets to about one o'clock in the afternoon, you start getting hungry and bored. You were usually up and about by nine in the morning at the latest, and you didn't even have your phone to kill some time waiting for Dabi to call you out. You'd managed to get a much better sleep in as well now you weren't feeling as endangered, so you'd had an earlier night that didn't make you need a lie in as long as you'd had the day before.
By one thirty, you begin getting the urge to use the bathroom, your lips pressing together in a tight line as you look at your bedroom door.

It was no good. Your stomach was beginning to rumble audibly from hunger, and the urge to pee was getting too much along with it. You sigh as you slide yourself off your bed, bracing yourself for the potential anger that Dabi may have at you leaving your own room in your own house without his permission in preference of tending to your own needs for the first time since he stumbled into your house. With a quick turn of the handle, you immediately leave the room and walk straight to the bathroom opposite without looking up the hallway despite the fact the screen doors between the hallway and living room would have blocked Dabis view of you, as well as your view of Dabi.

You close the door as quietly as possible behind you, letting out a sigh of relief that he hadn't gone full creep mode and hadn't been standing outside your door waiting for you to come out. You take a quick glance at your appearance in the mirror, almost cringing with the expectation of looking how you were feeling internally.
Clearly the better nights sleep had done you a bit more justice. Your silver hair was a little disheveled still, but your eyes were back to their usual piercing tone as you stared back at yourself. The bags under your eyes weren't nearly as dark as they had been yesterday. 
Once you'd finished in the bathroom, you open the door just as quietly as you'd opened it, peering around the wood a little nervously, half expecting Dabi to be there in all his patchwork glory standing in front of the door, glowering down at you.

Luckily the hallway is empty as you peer around the door, and you look with a furrowed brow at the screen doors between the living room and hallway. There was still no sign of life, and there was no way he didn't hear at least your own bedroom door open. You side eye the entrance of your bedroom, wondering whether you should just get yourself in there and wait it out for however much longer he needed. 
Honestly, you were a little worried.
The subdued nature and apparent lie in this morning was making you a little nervous. You begin wondering if you'd not dressed his wounds correctly. The cuts were deep- and liable to get infected. If left long enough, wounds that deep could very easily turn septic if left for too long. 

You curse your stupid brain for taking your psyche to a reality where Dabi had died overnight due to your lack of experience in nursing, and now there was going to be a dead body of a known violent criminal in your house that you'd have to deal with. There would be police and heroes, probably, and knowing your luck, they probably wouldn't buy the 'I was being held hostage' excuse that sounds comically like it had come straight out of a TV show or movie.
With quiet steps, you approach the hallway doors, slowly opening one of them and peering around it, your eyes scanning over the sofa for Dabi, who wasn't laying where you'd left him.
You feel panic begin to rise as you peer over the rest of that side of the living room, looking for a tuft of black hair, a stray foot, or a purple scarred arm.

But there was no sign of him on the floor, under the blanket or anywhere on that side of the room at all, asides from a pile of ash on the floor by the sofa telling you he'd clearly had a cigarette at some point after telling you to fuck off to bed.
You roll your eyes over to the living room window, your shoulders dropping as you do so.
You'd expected him to pop up behind you, to be staring at you the second you moved your eyes over to the other side of the room, his form still menacing even though injured as he looked down at you.
But that's not what you found. 
What you found was a passed out, scarred man perched on the windowsill awkwardly, his head pressed against the glass and his arm hanging out of the part of the window that had been opened.