Rock My World - DabiHawks

Blister In The Sun

POV DABI

Okay, I'll admit it: I'm drunk. Wasted. Hammered. Absolutely smashed. Whatever you want to call it, that's me.

I don't get black-out drunk very often, 98% because I can't risk spilling the secrets trapped in the back of my mind, no matter how hard they've been begging to be freed over all these years. 

(The other 2% is because the last time I blacked out, I woke up in a dumpster next to some homeless guy, which was not nearly as cool as it sounds.) 

But I guess I wasn't paying attention to my drinks while Hawks was up there singing, looking like a fucking angel sent from heaven. Fuck, I can't even put into words what I wanted to do to him...

Yeah, I'm drunk.

I don't even realize that I'm pulling that damn singer into the apartment with me until I stumble into the kitchen, the front door slamming behind us. Hawks is protesting, whining and bitching about needing to get home, but I just cover his mouth with my hand and keep laughing. Because it's funny. Everything about this is so fucking funny.

I shuffle us across the tiled floor, backing him against the counter. I have to rest one of my hands on either side of him to keep my balance; the position just so happens to block both of the shorter guy's exits. His golden eyes are wide with a fury that feels familiar, but I just can't place it...

"Dabi, let me go," Hawks whispers, pushing weakly against my chest. Something feels off, though. I'm absolutely plastered– if he wanted me off, he could do much better than that. And yet, he looks terrified. He's looking at me like I'm going to really hurt him. Like I'm going to kill him, or...

I stumble backwards, giving him space, but in the process I fall back on my ass. "Fucking hell..." I don't feel like getting up, so I just sprawl out on the kitchen floor, scowling at Hawks' shoes. He has tiny feet.

And then his shoes move. He sits down, tilting his head at me. He has on that cute smile of his– the one that comes with gentle laughter and a small crinkle in his nose. For the second time tonight, I want to reach out and touch him. He's pretty. But this time my arms are too heavy, and my chest is still a little tight from earlier. So I just stay on the floor. Watching him. Watching him watch me.

Eventually, though I'm not sure how much later, our moment is ruined. Footsteps echo down the hallway (or in my head, I'm not sure) and I'm being pulled to my feet. I'm helped to my feet. Two hands. Hawks, his hands. And then two more. Spinner? I don't know. I'm half-alive, a zombie, a sentient corpse being dragged to my room.

And I find it absolutely hilarious.

POV HAWKS

"Sorry about him," says the backup guitarist. Spinner, he says his name is. "He's a real pain in the ass sometimes. I doubt he'll remember any of this in the morning."

"It's no problem," I tell him, hoisting Dabi up by his left arm. Spinner takes his right arm, and we make our way down the hall to what I assume is Dabi's room. "I work at a bar, so I'm used to taking care of drunk people."

"Oh, yeah. You're the guy from Present Mic's, right? The one with the competition offer?" Spinner says. "How the fuck did this shithead manage to get to you already?"

"Eh, I guess we just ran into each other. I was helping my kid brother with a gig at Giran's, and it just spiraled from there."

"Well, it's pretty late. I'll be up early tomorrow for work, so if you want to crash on the couch tonight I can wake you up before anyone even knows you're here," Spinner offers.

"It's fine, seriously, I don't want to be a burden–"

"Pretty boyyyyyy," Dabi whines, shifting himself so all his weight is on my shoulders. He detaches from Spinner completely and moves so he's clutching me from behind, his arms snaking around my waist and holding me flush against his chest. Embarrassed, I try to pry him off of me, but I've been so touch-starved in the past few months that my body refuses to really get him off of me.