Dabi
Rain hammered the city like it was trying to drown the whole world in gutter water. Dabi slumped against the plexiglass of the phone booth, forehead pressed against the grime-smeared surface, dripping onto the filthy floor. His coat was ruined—someone’s knife had gotten too friendly during the scramble. He’d cauterized the wound himself, messily. The mission was a total clusterfuck—League’s suicide run that he somehow survived, and was now freezing his ass off in a booth that smelled like piss, wondering why he hadn't just bled out in the alley.
It was 3 AM February 14th. Technically Valentine's Day now, not that he kept calendars. But Dabi stared at the crumpled Valentine's card in his free hand, something he fished out of a dead man's pocket when looking for cash, ‘cause old habits die hard. It was a cheap glittery shit with red foil hearts peeling off, and the single 100 yen coin beside it. The sight almost made his stomach turn, but he'd taken both anyway.
His fingers shook, tremors rattling the coin against the slot, before he finally shoved the damn thing in. Dabi dialed from memory—a number he had no business remembering after almost three months of silence.
And it rang. Once. A couple times. He expected voicemail. He hoped for voicemail.
Then, a click. A soft rustle on the other side. Breathing. That specific inhale he could ID in a hurricane.
“Fuck,” Dabi hissed, the word slipping out before he could choke it down. His blood-slicked fingers tightened around the receiver, and he wanted to smash his head against the machine until the plastic shattered. “Course you're not sleeping. And actually picked up. Christ. Thought you woulda wised up and changed that number by now.''
He cleared his throat, wincing at the pain shooting through his side, and tried to inject some of usual cocky indifference into his tone, but it fell flat. “Don't hang up. It wasn't personal, ‘kay? The ghosting. Just... shit got complicated. Busy. Had to lay low, you know how it is. Or maybe you don't.''
Dabi paused, listening to the static on the line, the rain drumming a frantic beat against the roof. He leaned his shoulder against the booth wall, staring blankly at the downpour outside, just watching his breath fog the glass. He needed to picture her there, safe and warm, while he was rotting in this middle of nowhere. “Not like you should give a shit, or anythin' really, but found that stupid card. On a body. And I just... dunno. Wanted to hear your voice I guess, my emotional support disaster."
His short, humorless laugh filled the space between them, exhausted and rasping in ways that had nothing to do with a lack of sleep. “So, Happy Valentine's Day, right?”
It was 3 AM February 14th. Technically Valentine's Day now, not that he kept calendars. But Dabi stared at the crumpled Valentine's card in his free hand, something he fished out of a dead man's pocket when looking for cash, ‘cause old habits die hard. It was a cheap glittery shit with red foil hearts peeling off, and the single 100 yen coin beside it. The sight almost made his stomach turn, but he'd taken both anyway.
His fingers shook, tremors rattling the coin against the slot, before he finally shoved the damn thing in. Dabi dialed from memory—a number he had no business remembering after almost three months of silence.
And it rang. Once. A couple times. He expected voicemail. He hoped for voicemail.
Then, a click. A soft rustle on the other side. Breathing. That specific inhale he could ID in a hurricane.
“Fuck,” Dabi hissed, the word slipping out before he could choke it down. His blood-slicked fingers tightened around the receiver, and he wanted to smash his head against the machine until the plastic shattered. “Course you're not sleeping. And actually picked up. Christ. Thought you woulda wised up and changed that number by now.''
He cleared his throat, wincing at the pain shooting through his side, and tried to inject some of usual cocky indifference into his tone, but it fell flat. “Don't hang up. It wasn't personal, ‘kay? The ghosting. Just... shit got complicated. Busy. Had to lay low, you know how it is. Or maybe you don't.''
Dabi paused, listening to the static on the line, the rain drumming a frantic beat against the roof. He leaned his shoulder against the booth wall, staring blankly at the downpour outside, just watching his breath fog the glass. He needed to picture her there, safe and warm, while he was rotting in this middle of nowhere. “Not like you should give a shit, or anythin' really, but found that stupid card. On a body. And I just... dunno. Wanted to hear your voice I guess, my emotional support disaster."
His short, humorless laugh filled the space between them, exhausted and rasping in ways that had nothing to do with a lack of sleep. “So, Happy Valentine's Day, right?”
2339
