Dabi's Heartache

Chapter 3

The next morning when Dabi opened his eyes, he found the place beside him was empty.
Sure, this was generally how his hookups would go- fuck and then wake up alone- but this time, he felt sick.
After looking around for a bit, he noticed the hero had taken his stuff, making Dabi almost believe it had all been a dream.
The only thing that made it real was the small note left on the nightstand in neat cursive.

Dabi, I'm sorry to just ditch you but I can't stay.

I'm sorry. I was drunk off my ass last night and shouldn't have pushed you.

I'm taking a step back to think for now.

I hope this doesn't ruin our friendship.

~Hawks

Dabi crumpled up the piece of paper, letting it's edges scrape his skin.
A blue flame flickered to life in his palm, speedily consuming the paper and refusing it to ashes.
He should have known better that to let himself feel.

The walk back to the bar was long and lonely.
It had started raining halfway back, leaving him a shivering wet mess.
He collapsed in the alleyway just outside the bar, laughing at how pathetic he was.
The laughter quickly turned to sobs, his whole body shaking.
He burried his face in his hands.
Maybe Hawks would by some miracle hear him and come bring back the color in his life.

But Hawks didn't hear him.

And he didn't come.

Eventually, Twice came and silently hugged him in the rain.
Normally, Dabi would have pushed the masked man away- but today, he gripped onto him like the earth was falling out from under him.
I

n a way, he supposed it was. His eyes refused to focus and his breathing was loud and ragged.
Nothing would ever be okay again, though he wasn't sure why.
Was this what it was like to feel?
Was this how caring was supposed to make you?
If that was the case, Dabi certainly didn't want to feel ever again.

The next two weeks he spent stumbling around in random streets. Honestly, he didn't know where he was and thinking hurt too much.
He wound up hooking up with some chick with purple eyes and some sort of petrification quirk which was odd. He barely remembered it though.
He was running on nothing but alcohol and adrenaline.
If he sobered up at all he knew for certain it would be too much and he would do something stupid.
The only bad part about all this was that he found himself standing in a field of roses.
Their petals were so soft and delicate, softly kissing his scars we he passed them.
A few snagged on his staples, leaving small traces stuck to the shimmering silver.
He felt his heart crack open all over again as his mind went to silky feathers.
A wave of sudden wind rustled the flowers around him, disturbing his peaceful mourning session.
He looked up, hoping to see Hawks there.
But there was no hero.

After all, no one wants to save a worthless villain.