"Just don't make a mess," Rina muttered as she finally let herself rest, curling up in the chair, her body aching with exhaustion. She could still hear the soft rustle of Dabi shifting on the couch, his movements slow and deliberate.
"Mess?" he scof...
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Morning light filtered softly through the blinds, casting slanted beams across the room. Rina stirred, stretching out under the warm sheets, her mind still clinging to the edges of sleep. She blinked a few times, her vision blurring before coming into focus, taking in the faint outline of her bedroom.
But there was no sign of him.
The spot beside her was empty, as though Dabi had never been there. She frowned, reaching out a hand to feel the coolness of the sheets. There was no trace of warmth left from where he'd lain. He'd slipped out quietly, without a word, without a trace.
A mixture of relief and disappointment flickered through her, and she sat up, rubbing her temples. Rina was used to the comings and goings of people like him, drifting in and out of her life like ghosts. But something about last night had felt different—a quiet moment shared, with unspoken words and a strange, tentative sense of understanding. She hadn't expected it to feel like anything at all, but it lingered, and that realization unsettled her.
She thought back to the quiet of the night before, to the moment she'd simply stood beside him, letting her guard down for reasons she didn't fully understand. Letting him carry her, lie beside her—she should have felt guarded, or maybe even afraid, but she hadn't. Instead, she'd felt something that was harder to define: a faint sense of comfort, or maybe just a sense of shared understanding, as brief as it had been.
Why, though? The question gnawed at her. She barely knew him beyond his reputation—a reputation that was anything but kind, anything but stable. He was reckless, dangerous, someone who destroyed without remorse. And yet... he'd shown her just enough of a glimpse beneath that, enough to make her wonder if there was more to him than the flames and anger.
Rina shook her head, trying to push the thought away. Dabi was no hero, no saviour. He was tangled up in his own darkness, and she had no place there, no business feeling anything. The part of her that ached to connect, that ached for understanding, was a part she'd long buried, a part that she didn't dare trust in a world where trust was dangerous, and vulnerability was weakness.
Still, her mind drifted back to him. His strange, dark humour. The heat of his flames was so close, yet never touching her. The way he'd carried her with surprising gentleness, even as he'd mocked her for being tired. The way he'd lingered, staying beside her even when there was no obligation.
Don't get attached, she told herself firmly. People like Dabi didn't stick around, and she couldn't afford to expect anything more. She couldn't let herself rely on someone who would disappear the moment it suited him. But that truth didn't lessen the small ache that lingered, the feeling of having something, even for a fleeting moment, only to watch it slip away like smoke.
She exhaled deeply, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and planting her feet on the floor, grounding herself. The world outside continued on, indifferent to her inner turmoil. She was used to dealing with it alone—navigating her life without help, without anyone to rely on. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd allowed someone to get just a bit too close.
