A fiery embrace

Secret infatuation

Time inside the cramped apartment started to bleed together. Days stretched into nights without much to mark the change, and every hour felt heavier than the last.

Toga's antics, Shigaraki's grumbling, and the relentless hum of city life beyond the window kept things noisy enough to distract from the larger tension—at least, for most of them. 

For Dabi, though, the real problem wasn't the noise. It was Miyumi. 

She was always there. Moving quietly through the apartment, taking up just enough space to drive him crazy. She was too close—and somehow, not close enough. 

**Trapped Together** 

One evening, Dabi leaned against the kitchen counter, pretending to look through the contents of an old cereal box. In reality, he was watching Miyumi across the room. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, carefully sharpening a combat knife. The steady scrape of metal against stone filled the silence, a sound that somehow felt more intimate than it should have. 

She was in a loose tank top, her hair pulled back into a messy knot. Every now and then, she would tilt her head or bite her lip in concentration, oblivious to the way Dabi's gaze lingered a little too long. 

She was unlike anyone he'd ever met. Strong, quiet, and completely unaware of the effect she had on him—and that was the problem. 

Dabi's fingers twitched against the lighter in his pocket. He could almost feel the heat building in his chest, like an itch beneath his skin. 

He wanted to say something—anything—but words felt too heavy in his mouth, and the risk of breaking whatever unspoken thing lay between them kept him silent. 

Instead, he leaned further into the counter, his blue eyes following the movement of her hands. He told himself he was just bored, just passing the time. But he knew that wasn't true. 

**Close Quarters, Fraying Edges** 

The apartment felt smaller with every passing day. Meals were haphazard affairs—stale bread, canned soup, whatever Toga scavenged from nearby shops. The four of them fell into an uneasy rhythm of cohabitation, but the tension was always there, simmering beneath the surface. 

Shigaraki spent most of his time sulking in the bedroom, plotting their next move. Toga drifted between restless energy and eerie quiet, sprawled across the couch or perched on windowsills like a cat waiting for something to pounce on. 

And then there was Miyumi. She kept to herself, training in the small living room when space allowed, or sitting quietly by the window, watching the world outside as if she was trying to remember what it felt like to be free. 

Dabi hated how much he noticed her. 

It wasn't just the way she moved, though that was part of it—the smooth, deliberate way her muscles shifted beneath her skin, the way she carried herself with quiet confidence. It was more than that. It was the little things. 

The way her eyes softened when she thought no one was watching. The quiet hum she made under her breath when she was lost in thought. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear absentmindedly. 

It was maddening. 

**The Balcony** 

Late one night, Dabi found himself on the balcony again, cigarette dangling between his lips as he leaned on the railing. The cold air stung against his skin, but it did little to calm the restless energy burning inside him. 

He heard the door creak open behind him, and he didn't need to turn to know who it was. 

Miyumi stepped out into the cool night, arms crossed against the chill. She didn't say anything at first—just stood beside him, her presence steady and grounding. 

For a moment, they stayed like that, side by side in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the city. 

"You're always out here," she said quietly, her voice cutting through the stillness. 

Dabi glanced at her from the corner of his eye, smirking. "What can I say? I like the view." 

Miyumi gave him a look—half amused, half skeptical. "Sure. The view." 

Dabi chuckled, the sound low and rough. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing in the dark. 

"What about you?" he asked, exhaling smoke. "Why're you out here?" 

Miyumi shrugged, her gaze fixed on the skyline. "Couldn't sleep." 

They stood in silence for a while longer, the night pressing in around them. The air between them felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. 

Dabi tapped ash off the end of his cigarette, glancing at her again. "You know, you're not exactly easy to read." 

Miyumi smirked, her lips curving just enough to make his heart stutter. "Good." 

**Shadows and Secrets** 

Back inside the apartment, Toga was curled up on the couch, snoring softly. Shigaraki had long since disappeared into the bedroom. 

Dabi watched as Miyumi padded silently across the room, her movements smooth and fluid. She grabbed a blanket from the corner and draped it over herself as she settled on the floor. 

He stood there for a moment, just watching her. 

It was a bad habit—one he couldn't seem to break. There was something about her that held him captive, something he didn't fully understand. 

She made him want things he didn't have a name for. 

Eventually, he turned off the light and sank onto the couch, one arm slung over the back as he watched her in the dim glow from the window. 

She shifted slightly under the blanket, her breathing evening out as sleep slowly claimed her. 

Dabi knew he should sleep too—knew he needed rest if they were going to survive the days ahead. But instead, he stayed awake, his gaze fixed on the quiet rise and fall of Miyumi's breath. 

It wasn't just infatuation. 

It was something deeper, more dangerous. 

And it scared him more than he'd ever admit. 

**The Tension Builds** 

Morning came too soon, dragging them back into the strange rhythm of survival. 

Over breakfast—instant noodles and cold coffee—Toga hummed a cheerful tune, oblivious to the thick tension in the room. Shigaraki muttered to himself between spoonfuls of cereal, already lost in his plans for their next move. 

Dabi, however, couldn't stop watching Miyumi. 

Every glance, every subtle shift of her body, felt like it was pulling him deeper into a trap he wasn't sure he wanted to escape from. 

And Miyumi—either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge it—kept moving through the space like she belonged there, like she wasn't slowly unraveling him with every quiet moment they shared. 

Dabi leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving her. 

It was going to be a long day.