Bury Me in a Field of Flowers (and Don't Tell Them That I Love You)

Chapter Two

Dabi stumbles into the dark bathroom, not bothering to flick on the light switch. His head is pounding and he grips the side of the cold ceramic sink with shaking hands. Slowly he lifts his head to stare at the mirror- its only reflection is the stilling darkness that envelopes him.

A swirling figure appears in the mirror as his eyes begin to play tricks. He can only watch on as the figure begins to take shape and to his annoyance, he sees Hawks.

A dreaded lurch in his chest heaves and a tickle in his throat sends him over the edge; before he can think twice, he swings a fist at the mirror. There's a deafening crack and it shatters the visage.

"Fuck!" Dabi takes a step back from the sink and runs his hands over his face, ignoring the warm liquid dripping from his hand.

One second, he was enshrouded in the dark and the next he's bathed in a dim flickering light. He blinks twice and turns around to see Shigaraki leaning against the doorway, hand still hovering over the light switch with a questioning glare.

"Dabi-" A series of coughs interrupts Shigaraki and Dabi squeezes his eyes shut and prays to whatever cruel deity cursed him in the first place to just stop.

Thankfully, his coughing dies down and he swallows back down the itching in his throat.

"You look like death." Shigaraki's observation hangs stagnant in the air and Dabi merely sighs.

He feels like death.

Dabi stays inside his room for the better part of the day, turning away a prying Toga and a worried Twice. If there was one thing that Dabi is good at, it's avoiding all human interaction. He's exhausted, refusing to sleep with dreams plagued of soft red feathers and whispered sweet nothings that only his brain can think up of in the dead of night.

He presses the heel of his palms against his dry eyes and reevaluates his entire existence and life choices.

There was once a time, long ago- in almost an entire different lifetime, that he'd be able to run to his mom and she would provide all the answers for his questions. She would hold him close to her as he would tell her about his worries and fears. She would nod understandably and murmur reassurances as he let himself be lulled into comfort with the soft vanilla fragrance of her perfume and warm hugs. She would wipe away his straying tears and tell him she would always be there for him and smile down gently at him, saying that 'no matter how scary things get, always wear a smile because the ones who smile are the strongest.'

Memories of his lost childhood bubbles up and he finds himself wishing to go back to the time where he could go back to his mom for support. Just to see her again and be comforted. She would know what to do and what to say.

Instead, he sits in his dingy room. Alone.

It's three in the morning when Dabi finally decides to leave the cold comfort of his room. Pushing the door silently open, he nearly steps on a bowl of food with a simple post it note with a crudely drawn heart next to a cartoon drawing of Twice's masked face, that for some reason has angry eyebrows. With a sigh, he picks up the bowl and looks down at the rice with disinterest. Despite the rolling growl in his stomach, he doesn't feel hungry.

Dabi sneaks down the quiet hallway and into the kitchen where he scrapes the rice into the trash and sets the bowl in the sink.

He lets his mind begin to wonder as he leans against the counter. Staring down at his hands, he begins to pick at one of the sutures, trying to remind himself of who he is and not what he wants to be.

Any chance of redemption died a long time ago when it perished in the flames along with Touya. He wears his burns as a reminder of his own ideals and grudges. It serves as his anchor that he can never escape his past or his future; the rest of his life is inscribed into stone and there's no changing who he is. There is no more place in society for the likes of him, no place except for the one organization that welcomed him into their arms without a doubt.

Here is where he belongs, with the likes of similar mindsets and wounds from the past.

Misery loves company and here is where the broken gather like moths to a flame.

Here, there is no offered comfort of mothers long forgotten.

"You didn't eat your food." He's shaken from his thoughts as Toga steps into the kitchen. A glance over his shoulder shows a frowning girl.

"Wasn't hungry."

"Why?" How could he even convey his thoughts to her, thoughts and worries that she wouldn't understand? How could he even try to seek the solace of the girl that has no real meaning of love and flits from one interest to another like a wine connoisseur?

"Drank too much." He turns his attention back to his hands, hoping his answer would satisfy her curiosity. There's a pause in the room and fading footsteps confirms his hopes. He lets out a sigh of relief and pushes away from the counter.

As he makes his way back to his room, he can't help but to feel like he's marching to his own funeral procession.

Sunlight filters from between the broken shades and there's quiet mumbles from the other side of Dabi's door. He ignores the knock and pulls the blanket over his shoulders to feign sleep.

"-Worried."

"Don't be." Dabi catches snippets of the conversation and turns over to face the wall. He hears the doorknob turn slightly before the soft voice of Shigaraki floats into his room.

"Leave him be."

Once again, he's left in silence.

On the third day, he decides that he's being utterly ridiculous and makes himself at home in the bar. Dabi ignores the occasional glances from some of the other villains as he claims his usual seat. He's left alone, even though he can tell that a few of his colleagues want to speak to him- he's spared the peppering of questions that must be floating through their minds.

Shigaraki takes a seat next to him and hands him a glass of amber liquid. Without a word, he takes it and drinks it.