A fiery embrace

Embers

The days that followed were strange. The air between Dabi and Miyumi hadn't cooled—it was hotter, heavier, like a smoldering ember they couldn't quite put out. But neither of them said anything about it. They moved through the apartment like nothing had happened, but every glance, every touch, felt like a spark waiting to catch fire.

Dabi hated how much space she took up in his mind. Every time she walked past him, his pulse quickened. Every time she laughed at one of Toga's jokes, it felt like a victory—and a defeat. And at night, when the others were asleep, he found himself listening for her quiet breathing from across the room.

He knew he was in trouble.

And he knew it was only a matter of time before that trouble caught up with him.

**Restlessness**

One evening, the apartment was unusually quiet. Toga had gone off on some errand, mumbling about finding more clothes. Shigaraki was locked in the bedroom, deep in whatever grim planning filled his thoughts.

That left Dabi and Miyumi alone again.

Miyumi sat cross-legged on the couch, her attention focused on the gun she was cleaning. She moved methodically, the sleek metal sliding easily through her hands. Dabi, sprawled across the armchair nearby, watched her in silence.

"You always this fidgety?" she asked, not looking up from her work.

Dabi blinked, realizing he'd been tapping his foot without noticing. "What can I say? The company's not exactly thrilling."

Miyumi glanced up, her lips twitching into a small, knowing smile. "Careful. You're starting to sound almost friendly."

Dabi snorted, though his heart wasn't in it. "Don't get used to it."

But even as the words left his mouth, he felt himself soften. He didn't know how she did it—how she managed to peel away his defenses without even trying. It was dangerous. And addicting.

**The Quiet Hours**

As night fell, the apartment became shrouded in darkness, the city's dim glow filtering through the curtains. Dabi was restless, the weight of unspoken things pressing down on him.

He leaned back in the armchair, lighting a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. The familiar burn calmed him, but only slightly.

Miyumi's voice broke through the quiet. "You always smoke when you're thinking too much?"

Dabi exhaled a plume of smoke, his gaze settling on her. "Only when I'm thinking about things I shouldn't."

Her eyes flicked to his, a glimmer of curiosity—and something else—dancing in their depths. "And what are you thinking about?"

He gave her a lazy grin, though his heart pounded beneath the surface. "Wouldn't you like to know."

She shook her head, amused, and turned her attention back to the gun in her hands. But Dabi could see the faint flush coloring her cheeks, and it was enough to make him smirk.

He liked knowing he got under her skin. Liked it too much.

**A Moment Too Close**

Later that night, the apartment grew quieter. Shigaraki hadn't come out of his room, and the only sound was the occasional creak of the old building settling around them.

Miyumi sat by the window, the city lights casting soft shadows across her face. She looked peaceful—serene, even. It made Dabi uneasy.

Without thinking, he stood and crossed the room, coming to a stop just behind her.

"You ever think about running?" he asked quietly, his voice low and rough.

Miyumi glanced over her shoulder, surprised by the question. "From what?"

"From all of this." He gestured vaguely to the room around them. "From them. From me."

Miyumi tilted her head, studying him. "No," she said softly. "I don't run."

Dabi let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He wasn't sure what answer he'd been expecting—but for some reason, her words settled something inside him.

He leaned against the wall beside her, close enough to feel the warmth of her presence.

"You're crazy," he muttered, though there was no bite in his words.

She smiled, just a little. "Takes one to know one."

**The Lure of Danger**

For a long time, they sat in silence, the city stretching out beyond the window.

And then, without meaning to, Dabi spoke.

"You make me think about stupid things," he murmured, almost to himself.

Miyumi's brow furrowed slightly. "Like what?"

"Like... what if things were different."

He didn't say it aloud, but the unspoken words hung heavy between them: *What if I wasn't me? What if you weren't you?*

Miyumi looked at him, her gaze steady and unreadable. "And would you want them to be different?"

Dabi's throat tightened. He wanted to say no—wanted to brush it off with a joke or a smirk. But the truth was harder to ignore.

"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "Yeah, I think I would."

Miyumi's expression softened, just enough for him to notice. And for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of them—like nothing else mattered.

He wanted to kiss her. The thought hit him hard and fast, like a punch to the gut. He could almost feel the ghost of her lips against his, the warmth of her breath on his skin.

But he didn't move.

Because if he crossed that line, there would be no going back.

And he wasn't sure he could handle what would come after.

**The Tension Holds**

Miyumi shifted slightly, her shoulder brushing against his arm—so light, so casual, and yet it set his nerves on fire.

"Dabi..." she began, her voice quiet, unsure.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a slow, steady breath. "Don't."

Miyumi's brow furrowed. "Don't what?"

"Don't say anything." His voice was rough, almost desperate. "Not right now."

She hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Okay."

And just like that, the moment slipped away—replaced by the steady hum of the city outside and the quiet beat of their unspoken feelings.

Dabi leaned his head back against the wall, his heart pounding in his chest.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

And deep down, he knew it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down around them.