Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

Good Morning

You approach him slowly, cautiously, expecting his hand to reach out and grab you the second you got close enough to him, likely burning your already burned wrist again. You crane your neck a little to get a look at his face, expecting his face to be even paler than it already was on the healthy patches, still a little convinced that he may have died from your lack of care.
He looks the most peaceful you'd seen him. It was as though his jaw had always been clenched when you'd seen him previously, and now he was asleep, his face was significantly less angular, rounded and almost cherubic as his head leans against the cool glass of the window. He could almost be mistaken for innocent if you weren't in the position you were currently in.

You slowly reach out with two fingers to press against his wrist, keeping your eyes on his sleeping face, slightly hidden behind the messy mop of black hair. The second you make contact with his scarred, gnarled wrist, you feel the heightened warmth of his body heat, and immediately know he's still alive without even needing to find his pulse.
You're a little surprised that he doesn't seem to react to the feeling of your fingers against his wrist. You're not sure if it's a move of sheer idiocy,or if you were still a little unconvinced of his health, but you press your fingers firmly into the rough scarring, feeling his pulse to settle your mind once and for all.
Your face falls the second his eyes lazily pull open, his usually cold irises a little softer than you were used to before his brain clearly clicks that you're in front of him and they harden straight away, his eyelids half-lidding again.
"Didn't call you out yet, doll." He says calmly, unhooking his arm from where it had been laying to get cool air. "Couldn't wait for me to get up, huh?"

Your body freezes, the complete opposite reaction you wanted to have to him waking up, your fingers still pressing into his wrist. He doesnt even seem to notice until your mouth bobs open and shut for a couple of seconds, words failing you as well as your own body.
His eyes drop to where your arm was reaching to, and there's a slight glint of amusement in them when he looks back up to your embarrassed face.
"Not dead yet, sweetheart." He croons, cocking his head as he gives you a smirk.
You feel a little trapped in his gaze, but you manage to gain enough control to move your fingers away from his wrist.
"I was worried. Those cuts are bad." You breathe out. 

His eyes remain still on you, but his smirk slowly begins to fall, the mismatched hues of his lips pulling into a straight two-toned split across his face.
For a second, you get a image of his hand burning into your other wrist before that same mental wall goes up, and he lets out a small scoff, moving his body from off the window sill, looking down at you as he towers over you.
"I'm only gonna tell you this one more time, little mouse." He says coldly, his fingers capturing your chin and tilting your head so you have no choice but to drown in the ocean of his eyes. "Don't act like you care. I'm not dumb, and it's fuckin' annoying." 
He shoves your head back harshly with the grip he has on your chin before removing his hand entirely. 
You recover fairly quickly, just thankful that you got a few stern words and a slight head push rather than the imagery he originally had in mind for you.

You decide its probably smarter to not respond as he walks away from you, heading towards the hallway. You let out a small breath of relief at having your own living room back to yourself, letting your entire body relax for a second as you listen to the sound of the tap running in the bathroom. It probably wouldn't be long until Dabi graced you with his presence again. 
You go to the kitchen, beginning to put together a breakfast for yourself now Dabi was finally awake. You almost go into autopilot and start making only yourself food before shoving more food on to cook. 
You stiffen as you see the outline of Dabis figure appear in your peripherals, wondering to yourself if he was still in a sour mood after you made your mindless comment about his injuries. Luckily he remains silent and avoids you as he heads to the sink, his hand flicking the tap on as he places the glass underneath it.
You steal a bit more of a solid look at him as you stand at the cooker, noticing water dripping off his marred chin onto the floor, his entire face a little damp and drops of water running across the crevices in his ribbed scarring. His eyes appeared as cold and as bored as ever as he watches the water fill the cup lazily.

"Sorry for waking you up." You murmur, moving your eyes away but ensuring you could still see him in your peripherals. 
He grunts simply, raising the glass to his lips and downing the glass slowly with big gulps. A grunt was better than a cutting comment or a raised temper. You're a little surprised when he doesn't hang around in the kitchen to keep an eye on you, instead opting to walk out of the room with a new glass of water in his hand.
His stance seemed a little better today, and you could only hope that it was his body beginning to heal enough for him to get about on his own without being a liability to himself. Although you weren't sure what that would mean for you once he could leave the safety of your house.
As much as you hated to admit it, you were kind of enjoying having another human being in the house with you, as abrupt, crude and perverted Dabi could be. You almost wished you managed to meet the soft, peaceful Dabi you saw hanging out of the window rather than the version walking around your apartment currently. You could imagine you'd probably get on with him if you'd met in better circumstances, if the entire situation between you had been different you could probably imagine yourself crushing on him pretty hard.

Some sick part of you that you refused to acknowledge still did find him beautifully unique, his entire aesthetic was attractive and you could imagine if he wasn't being threatening, his personality would be quite funny to be around. 
You want to punch yourself whenever you think about it though, trying to remember that he burnt you, that he had threatened you, your family and friends. He didn't deserve your attraction to him with how he'd been when he was awful to you. 
You try convincing yourself it was just your savior complex playing up, that it may even be early onset Stockholm Syndrome, and quickly shut your brain down as you serve up your breakfast, taking a deep breath as you prepare yourself for another day with Dabi.