Flufftober

Paint

The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of soft oranges, pinks, and purples, the perfect backdrop to the quiet, secluded apartment that Dabi and Hawks now called home. It was a rare moment of peace for the two former villains, a time where the world's chaos felt like a distant memory.

Hawks leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on a cup of tea as he watched Dabi from the corner of his eye. His boyfriend sat sprawled out on the worn-out couch, flipping through an old, dog-eared sketchbook. Dabi always kept his emotions close to the chest, but today, Hawks could see a faint look of nostalgia in those piercing blue eyes.

"What's got you so deep in thought?" Hawks asked, his voice gentle. Dabi didn't respond immediately, his fingers tracing the edges of the sketchbook as if lost in the memories it held. Hawks knew about the sketchbook, but he had never seen what was inside until today.

Dabi finally looked up, his usual guarded expression softened just slightly. "It's nothing," he said, his voice rough but lacking its usual bite. "Just some old stuff."

Hawks tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. He set his cup down and walked over, plopping down next to Dabi. "Old stuff, huh? Let me see."

Dabi's grip on the sketchbook tightened, but he didn't pull away. He'd never been one to share much about his past or his hobbies, and drawing was something he'd kept hidden even from Hawks. It wasn't out of shame, but more out of habit—his art was personal, something that had been his alone during the most turbulent times of his life.

But Hawks was different, and maybe, just maybe, Dabi wanted to share this part of himself too.

"You really wanna see it?" Dabi asked, sounding almost uncertain.

Hawks nodded, eyes bright with anticipation. "Yeah, I do. I mean, it's part of you, isn't it?"

Dabi sighed, flipping the sketchbook open to a random page. The drawing was of a cityscape at night, the lights and shadows intricately detailed. It was raw and beautiful, capturing a sense of loneliness and resilience that resonated deeply. Hawks stared, wide-eyed and speechless. He'd known Dabi was talented, but this was something else entirely.

"Dabi... this is incredible," Hawks breathed, his eyes scanning every detail. "Why didn't you ever tell me you could do this?"

Dabi shrugged, looking away as if embarrassed by the praise. "It's just a hobby. Nothing special."

Hawks shook his head, smiling softly. "It's more than that. It's... you. And I love it."

Dabi's cheeks flushed, a rare sight that never failed to make Hawks' heart flutter. For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, just basking in the closeness and the quiet understanding between them. Hawks' fingers traced over the edges of the pages, admiring each sketch, each glimpse into Dabi's hidden world.

Then, Hawks got an idea. He turned to Dabi, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Hey, you should paint something. Just one more, for me."

Dabi raised an eyebrow. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope!" Hawks grinned, leaning closer. "C'mon, just one. For old times' sake. For me?"

Dabi groaned, but the way Hawks' golden eyes sparkled made it impossible to refuse. "Fine," Dabi grumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "But only because you asked nicely."

A few hours later, the apartment was filled with the faint smell of paint, and Dabi stood before a canvas, brush in hand. Hawks sat cross-legged on the floor, watching every stroke with fascination. It was like witnessing magic, the way Dabi's movements were fluid and precise, bringing his vision to life.

Dabi lost himself in the painting, his usual scowl replaced by a rare look of contentment. It was a side of him Hawks cherished, a side that was vulnerable and real. When Dabi finally stepped back, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, Hawks was at a loss for words.

The painting was breathtaking. It was a scene of two figures sitting on a rooftop at sunset, their silhouettes bathed in warm, golden light. The sky was ablaze with colors, blending seamlessly into one another like the softest of dreams. There was a sense of peace in the image, a quiet moment captured forever.

But what struck Hawks the most was the way the figures were posed—one with fiery hair and blue eyes, the other with wings spread wide, the feathers catching the last rays of the sun. It was unmistakably them, but not in a flashy, obvious way. It was subtle, gentle, and achingly beautiful.

Hawks' breath hitched, his heart swelling with emotions he couldn't quite put into words. "Dabi, this... this is..." His voice broke, and he couldn't help the tears that welled up in his eyes. "It's perfect."

Dabi looked away, his cheeks tinged pink. "It's just a painting, birdbrain."

"No, it's not," Hawks whispered, reaching up to cup Dabi's face, his thumb brushing gently against the scarred skin. "It's us. And it's everything."

Dabi's usually guarded expression softened, and for once, he let himself bask in the warmth of Hawks' admiration. He hadn't expected it to mean so much, but seeing Hawks' reaction, the genuine awe and love in his eyes, made every moment worth it.

"You like it that much?" Dabi asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I love it," Hawks said, his voice trembling with sincerity. "Just like I love you."

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other and the quiet glow of the fading light. No words were needed, just the soft brush of their lips and the gentle thud of their hearts beating in sync.

Dabi had given Hawks more than just a painting—he'd given him a piece of himself, something raw and true, and in return, Hawks gave Dabi the kind of love that could make even the darkest of hearts feel whole.

And in that quiet, sunlit room, they found solace in each other's arms, painting their own kind of forever.