Ultra Blue Violence (Dabi)

Chapter Forty - Three: Open Cluster

Miya laid awake in someones king sized bed. She sat up, her back hunched over her arms. Shadows played in the corner of her eyes, teasing her, switching positions or shapes to be a normal household item when she turned her head.

Headlights would pass by the first floor, shining onto Dabi sleeping entangled in the sheets of a strangers bed. He lay stomach down, one leg hanging out, and one arm outstretched to the spot where she should be laying. And then he would snore deeply.

They watched from the street under as a young couple packed their car and headed out for what looked like a holiday that afternoon. It was a bargain, Miya said; picking the lock and disabling the security system. This stuff was too easy!

Her fingers traced down the long scar running down her left arm. She felt every bump and imperfection and pull of the skin. It was a sore reminder that if Hawks didn't find her when he did she might also be dead too.

(Just like the rest of them.)

She should have drowned the first time.

Her lip trembled and her shoulders shook. A cry slipped past her lips and she slapped a hand over her mouth. Sometimes she thinks; what's the point? By the end of all this, it might be futile and pointless. There will never truely be change. Not the way she wants, not the way the League wants. She and Dabi could burn and destroy buildings all they like and they'll just keep rebuilding and reminding people that Heroes are stronger and 'we can overcome this hurdle'. It's no real threat until you have a child at gun point.

It's not like Miya would live to see the ripe old age of seventy. And what would she have accomplished?

She slapped her cheek. What a stupid thing to think. She could be dead by tomorrow.

There was movement beside her, and Dabi took in a deep breath and the snoring stopped. He rolled over searching for Miya's presence. Someone took her, wake up, idiot. Adrenaline shot through him in panic. His eyes opened when she wasn't there. He bolted upright. Miya jumped. He relaxed.

"What are you doing?" That warm, raspy voice that possessed his cords, sent shivers crawling up her spine.

"Can't sleep." She fiddled with the cotton sheets. His arms came around her bringing warmth, and he kissed her shoulder. His left hand snaked around her body and clutched her left arm over the scar. His touch lingered. He continued to kiss that spot on her shoulder, soft and sweet. The staples on his chin tickled her skin.

"Why do you stick with me, knowing what I am? Knowing what I've done, what I can do? How I treat you?"

"I don't know. You give me some sort of comfort... in a weird way." She shrugged. "I don't even know your real name, Dabi."

He stopped kissing her shoulder. He looked up through the darkness, stiffening. He asked, "And if you did?"

"What difference does it make? We're both here for the same reason."

"Here, as in now, or the League?"

Miya turned her head to meet his eyes, as black and violent and unknowing as the churning sea when the sun was out. "Both?" her heartbeat quickened. Even thought she couldn't see his eyes, she pictured the vibrant blue that they are. To call it love would be a mockery to the sacred meaning. Whatever that is. Miya has felt the love of her parents and this wasn't it. It's possession. Jealously. Obsession. Infatuation. It crept into her being like vines wrapping around anything they could.

The skin of his lower jaw scratched her skin where he rested. She could feel the breath coming out of his nose and brushing her arm like bristles on a paintbrush. His eyes lowered as if to contemplate something. She could see his mind working over something, flipping, twisting and turning with the interworks. Whatever it was, he decided against it.