A fiery embrace

Temptation in the ashes

The storm grumbled outside, heavy rain pattering against the windows of the hideout. It was the kind of night that felt endless, the kind where thoughts got tangled in the quiet, and Dabi hated it. 

And tonight, his thoughts were tangled with Miyumi. 

He sat at the bar, rolling his lighter between his fingers, flicking the flame on and off in a steady rhythm. The others were out, and the quiet made it worse—left him with nothing but that gnawing tension he'd been trying to ignore all week. It wasn't like him to get caught up in someone else. Yet here he was, catching himself thinking about Miyumi every damn day. 

He thought about the way she laughed, sharp and knowing, like she was in on a joke no one else got. The way she gave him that look—the one that said she could see right through him but wasn't scared of what she found. And, of course, he thought about how she looked at him, those moments where the air between them shifted, heavy with something unsaid. 

Dabi knew better than to act on it. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to. Love—if you could call it that—was dangerous. It made you soft. Made you vulnerable. And he had no room for that. Not in this world, not with someone like her. 

And yet, it was getting harder to keep his distance. 

He could almost picture it—the way her lips might feel if he leaned in, just a little closer. Would she taste sweet, or would she kiss like she fought—bold and sharp, pulling no punches? His chest ached with the thought, and it made him feel stupid. He wasn't some lovesick kid, so why couldn't he shake this? 

"Dabi." 

Her voice cut through the haze in his mind, snapping him back to the present. He looked up and found Miyumi standing beside him, her arms crossed and a knowing glint in her eye. 

"You gonna keep zoning out on me, or are you planning to say something?" she teased, a smirk tugging at her lips. 

He forced a smirk of his own, masking the knot of tension tightening in his chest. "Maybe I like keeping you guessing." 

Miyumi rolled her eyes, though there was no annoyance in it. "You've been weird all week. You sure everything's good in that charred brain of yours?" 

Dabi flicked his lighter shut with a sharp *click*, slipping it into his pocket as he leaned back on the bar. "Worried about me, sweetheart?" 

She gave him a sideways glance, a hint of amusement in her gaze. "Not worried. Just... curious." 

That word—*curious*—made something in him stir. It felt like an invitation, a quiet dare. But he knew better. If he gave in now, if he crossed that line, things would change. And Dabi wasn't ready for that. Not yet. 

"Careful," he said, his voice low and laced with warning. "Curiosity gets people burned." 

Miyumi laughed softly, the sound warm and unaffected. "Good thing I don't scare easy." 

Of course she didn't. That was part of the problem. She was right there, daring him with her words, her gaze, and yet somehow she still kept enough distance between them to leave him teetering on the edge of frustration. It was a dangerous game they were playing, and the worst part was Dabi didn't even know who was winning. 

She leaned on the bar beside him, close enough that he could smell the rain on her skin. Not close enough to touch—but close enough to make him wonder what it would feel like if she did. 

"So?" she asked, her voice softer now. "What's been on your mind?" 

He thought about telling her the truth—just laying it out there. But the words stuck in his throat. Admitting it would make it real, and real things had a way of falling apart. 

"Nothing worth talking about," he muttered instead, his eyes fixed on the storm outside. 

Miyumi watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to his surprise, she smiled—gentler this time, without the usual bite. 

"Liar," she said quietly. 

Dabi huffed a laugh, more at himself than anything. "Yeah. Probably." 

They stood there in silence for a while, the storm outside filling the quiet space between them. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, though—it felt... easy, like they both knew there was no rush to fill the gap with words. 

Dabi glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and for a split second, he let himself imagine what it would be like if things were different. If they weren't who they were—if the world didn't demand so much fire and bitterness. If they could just exist, without all the complications. 

But that wasn't the world they lived in. 

Miyumi caught him looking, and a small, knowing smile curved her lips. "You keep staring at me like that, Dabi, and I'm gonna think you actually like me." 

Dabi scoffed, though his chest felt tighter than before. "Yeah, right." He reached for his lighter again, flicking it open and shut. "Don't flatter yourself." 

But she just grinned, like she saw through him completely. "Whatever you say, fire boy." 

And just like that, she walked away, leaving him standing there with too many thoughts and not enough air in his lungs. 

He watched her go, the sound of her footsteps soft against the creaky floor. His hand clenched around the lighter in his pocket, his mind already tangled with thoughts of her again. 

They were friends—just friends. That's all they could be. 

But deep down, Dabi knew it wouldn't stay that way forever. 

Not with the way his heart kicked every time she looked at him. And not with the way he'd already started wondering how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise.