"I need this fixed."
"You sure that's the only thing that you need fixed?" The face that laughed was barely there, blurred and covered in a haze that was beyond recognition. Dabi couldn't recognize her really, even confused that he'd ever be acquainted with someone like. . .this. There was nothing he recognized, nothing he could ever call a defining feature except. . .
"Stop fucking around, brat." When she laughed again he sees the same blue hair, tied high into a ponytail with a distinctly green tie. A tattooed hand reaches out to grab the phone, "Well whatever, 'ya came to the right place! Ain't nothing—" A garbled noise, "—can't fix!"
What. . .what was that? What did she say then?
Dabi goes to open his mouth, ask her what the fuck she meant by that and to say it again—but. . .nothing. Nothing came out, no voice—one he wasn't even sure would belong to him—spoke. Not a noise, not a word; nothing.
The scene continued to play out but as it went on he noticed the façade breaking. The girl's movements became more erratic, uncertain. Like a memory with details Dabi wasn't sure of. And that was exactly what it was—with words garbled and jumping action to action with no rhyme or reason. This was something he forgot about, and no amount of staring at the girl would ever be enough to jog it.
But it went on.
It got so bad he wasn't even sure if this was still just a recalled memory. Did he die? Was this his hell?
The girl in front of him was still spewing random shit, each word sounding less and less like one he'd ever be able to understand. At one point the only noise he could hear from her was a banging.
. . .what?
He awoke with a jolt, the setting sun to his right that shadowed the park he was in and painting the sky in colors that he personally preferred off it. The bench he lied on was anything but comfortable, but it was enough for a temporary resting place. It wasn't dignified, Lord knows how much he looked like a homeless person needing his next fix, but it was a blessing in disguise, the whole 'I snort crack' look enough to keep even the most meddling of strangers away.
The banging continued even as he regained his bearings and sat up, a small child somewhere near shamelessly hitting a small, plastic drum. It sounded a lot tamer in comparison to the one he heard right before he woke up, but it was. . .a lot more annoying when it was erratic and obnoxious-sounding. He couldn't describe it. Was it because he knew it was coming from a child? Probably, probably not.
A chubby face looks up at him in curiosity, him staring right back no doubt looking bored. But. . .
For a quick second he could've sworn the brown hair turned into red and white, split in the middle and a lot tamer. What the hell? He was definitely awake now, but now he was just confused. What the fuck was that? Who—
The face of a worried mother crosses his view before she goes off with the child in tow, the drum set barely in the kid's arms before they were gone in the distance.
. . .
"I need a drink. . ." He mumbles to himself before staggering up, planning to head to the nearest pub to drink himself stupid. He had other things to deal with, and right now 'seeing a ghostly image of a random child with two colors in his hair' wasn't one of them.
• • •
"Here you go." You put on the best smile you could muster as you place the tray on the table, the girl grinning as she helps arrange her food. "Thanks. Y/N, yeah?"
YOU ARE READING
𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 || ᵈᵃᵇⁱ
Fiksi Penggemar// dabi x reader fic, au Dabi never questioned where he came from, never asked who he was before all this. And when he finally did start asking questions. . .why was it so hard to get his answers?
