Midnight Skies - A DabixReader Story

Flowers

As expected, Dabi disappears wordlessly for a few days.
You weren't even mad about it. You noticed that the house was a little colder now he wasn't around, and you caught yourself missing him a couple times when you heard a random creak come from within your home, only to remember it was just you around for the time being.
You'd come home with Sota and Ren after work the one day, when you found a singular white tulip lying outside your front door.
You'd stopped in place for a second, staring at the flower as though it was a rabid dog before Ren leant over and picked it up, twirling it between his fingers.
"You got a secret admirer?" He'd teased, bopping the head of the flower against your nose playfully.
Sota watched quietly, his yellow eyes piercing straight into the side of your head.
"I- No?" You replied, thoroughly confused.
"Aren't they typically given as an apology?" Sota asked, raising an eyebrow.
You'd had to really fight the urge to immediately think of Dabi, shutting your brain off to your brother once more, only resulting in him looking really quite concerned and thinking about Junichiro potentially having made a reappearance in your life.

You'd managed to brush off the situation and carry on like normal that evening after soothing Sota about Junichiro definitely being gone forever.
The next evening, after your final day at the library, you came home to find a singular sprig of lily of the valley laying in front of your front door.
You blinked at it, before turning your head both ways to check to see if someone was hanging around. Surely it wasn't Dabi. He didn't seem the type to leave flowers.
You'd crouched to pick it up, slowly raising to stand again, pulling out your phone to google the meaning of lily of the valleys, Sota's comment about the white tulip the day before still fresh in your memory.
Sure enough, those flowers could be given as a form of apology, too.
You'd scoffed a little, looking around before entering your house, as if you were going to spot whoever it was leaving the flowers peeking out from behind a wall somewhere.
You'd plopped it into the vase with the singular tulip the second you got inside, trying not to think about it for the rest of the evening.

Then, you got home today, to find an actual bouquet laying on the floor outside your front door.
You snatch it from the floor, taking in the flowers.
Blue hyacinths, more white tulips and lily of the valley, and pink roses.
Annoyingly, they were gorgeous. And you didn't even have to research what these flowers meant. You were getting the message.
You look at the wrapping, searching for a note. Thankfully there was one this time, although it didn't look like it had been written on a nice card by the clerks at a florist like you'd expect. Instead, it was a barely legible scribble on a piece of ripped notepad paper, simply reading 'call me.'
You knew immediately from the briefness of the note who the culprit was. You're a little surprised, having convinced yourself that he would never think to get you flowers because flowers were...a surprisingly thoughtful and innocent gift.
You open your door, walking into your home and laying the bouquet on a kitchen counter, carefully taking the wrapping off before putting them all in the vase with the lily of the valley and white tulip.
You keep the note between your fingers, playing with the scrap piece of paper as you think about your options.

You could call him now, but you kind of know if you called him straight away without thinking things through, you were either likely to forgive him immediately or tell him to fuck off and leave you alone.
You could sit on it for a bit, think things through, and call him when you felt you were ready for it. You needed time to process everything before calling him really. The flowers were sweet, but they didn't make up for everything that happened.
You could also, completely ignore him. Maybe even sell your house and move if it came to it. Sure, he was leaving flowers at your front door currently, but who knew what he was capable of? He'd killed multiple people, a few of them even in front of you.
Your mouth falls on one side as you sigh, leaving the note on your coffee table before standing and deciding to distract yourself with cooking dinner.
Except it doesn't work as a distraction. You're still thinking of Dabi as you cut up the vegetables for your meal, revisiting all the soft moments you'd shared with him in the time you'd known each other.
By the time your food was actually cooked, you were annoyed again, a glimpse of the slight scar left behind from being burnt by him setting you off.

You eat your dinner angrily at first, revisiting everything he'd done wrong and everything he'd put you through silently, with not even the music you ended up putting on doing any good to soothe your anger.
And then yet again you end up distracting yourself by remembering the time he'd taken you on the kitchen countertop, the memory instantly sending you into a worked up mess.
You huff a little to yourself, as though he'd somehow be able to hear that you were annoyed by the fact you were turned on by the memory of him.
You can't shake it off though, as much as you desperately try to. He'd wormed his way inside your head with those two simple words and you couldn't help but think about him, revisiting all kinds of memories you had with him.
You're lying in bed, panting from trying to quell the thoughts by masturbating, only for it to fail horrendously. Now you were just tired and a little unsatisfied, craving more.
You lay there, unsuccessfully trying to sleep for about an hour before you growl to yourself, grabbing your phone from your bedside table, sitting up and calling him.

You weren't expecting him to pick up. It was late, for you anyway, and you were used to him ignoring your texts, never mind ever trying to call him.
You really hadn't expected him to pick up after it rang out only a couple times.
"You called." He says, his gravelly voice travelling through your phone. He sounds a little shocked, like he hadn't been expecting you to actually do it.
You're silent. You hadn't really thought this through. You had no idea what you wanted to say to him, or what you wanted to achieve from this.
"Hello?" He asks, a frown clear in his voice, and you hear a couple of thuds come from his end of the line.
"I did." You reply eventually, sighing a little to yourself. You hadn't even managed to hold out for a day.
You hear him take a long exhale on the other side of the phone, it sounding a lot like a sigh of relief.
"Can you come and meet me?" He asks, speaking lower.
You snort immediately, quickly looking at the time on your phone before lifting it back to your ear.

"It's two in the morning. And you still haven't apologised. So no."
There's a short silence on the other end, and you check your phone again, half expecting to see he had hung up on you.
He hadn't however, clearly he was measuring up what he wanted to say next.
"I wanted to... in person." He replies, actually having the humility to sound a little embarrassed. "Please?"
"It's two in the morning." You repeat, biting your lip. You were a lot weaker than you'd realised. You really did want to buckle and agree to meet him, to see what he had to say for himself.
"I'll come to you, then?" He says his voice uncertain, clearly trying to compromise.
"Hell no!" You say, sitting bolt upright in bed.
There's a short silence between you both before  you hear him sigh softly.
"Please." He repeats, sounding a lot more like he was begging.
The softer tone of voice was something you weren't used to from him, and it didn't exactly sound natural with his ruined voice, either.
You stare at your bedroom door silently for a couple seconds, silently debating what to do with yourself.
As always, you were curious to a fault.

"Fine."