Dabi was biting his lip in concentration. Izuku seemed to be deep in focus writing in his new sketchbook sitting cross-legged next to him, laying down careful strokes of his pencil. They were resting in another tunnel of the subway, a single travel lamp illuminating the area. Dabi turned his head and pretended to be looking farther down the tunnel, deep in thought, as his hand began creeping towards Izuku's pocket stuffed with spare pencils and erasers. He felt the polished yellow side of one of the pencils, and began positioning his hand to worm it out, when—

"You do know that your about as stealthy as a horse, right?" Izuku remarked out of nowhere. Dabi recoiled.

"Oh come on, I almost had it! And plus, I snagged that chicks wallet earlier so we could get the dye."

"Well, when I'm expecting it to happen, it's a lot easier to notice, I guess, but the score's still Izuku: 24, Dabi: 17. You'll never beat me." Izuku was grinning at him, sketch forgotten in his lap.

They'd fallen into a rhythm, these past couple months. It felt comfortable and easy to talk now that they could easier predict each other's conversation patterns and mood swings. Things were far from simple, though. Izuku was still a small grieving child who didn't know how to handle emotions and loss. And Dabi? Dabi was still an uninformed teen who hardly had a clue what to say or do in response.

Like, for example, when he had to break it to Midoriya that they didn't have enough yen to continue buying essentials. They would probably have plenty of supplies left if Dabi had been able to convince himself to nab some of the loose cash he'd found around the house, but stealing actual money from the apartment felt somehow wrong. Damn him and his disheveled morals.

After a week or two, the food he'd grabbed from the house had either been eaten or gone bad, and, try as he might to ration water, it never worked out. Especially when the kid kept having meltdowns that left him parched and hungry. The water filter he'd bought as a solution, which had been a whopping 4400 yen, had sucked them dry of their budget (it was a necessary investment, though. Buying water bottles often was getting to be annoyingly tedious).

Dabi considered trying to get a job, but nixed the idea when he realized how clingy Izuku had become. It was a chore getting him to be in a different room for more ten minutes. Leaving for several hour intervals at a time was not going to happen any time soon.

Which brought him to their only real option.

Stealing.

Or rather pick-pocketing, to put it lightly.

Just as he'd thought, the kid was not thrilled about that at all. He tried to convince Dabi to try something else, but couldn't come up with any alternative options. Izuku gave in after Dabi insisted that there truly was no other way.

He wished there was another way, though. Dabi hated the idea of Izuku having to grow up around petty thieving and such general wrongness, but there just simply wasn't another choice. Survival was Dabi's top priority.

"But it's wrong, Dabi," Izuku said into the blanket.

"It's wrong to steal. Villains steal, Dabi. I, I don't want you to do what a villain would do…"

"I know." he started, crouching down to get on the kids' level."I know it's wrong, but we're only doing it cuz' we have to. It'll only be a few hundred yen, Izuku. Nothing anyone will miss, I promise. We need it more than they do." he soothed, rubbing Midoriya's hair reassuringly.

"If you say so…" he mumbled, clearly not convinced."Hey, it'll be alright, okay? This is only temporary. And you don't have to do anything you don't want to. Leave it to me."

Izuku started off by observing silently while Dabi got to work to avoid being left at the station. It was completely unexpected when about a week in, he was asking Dabi to teach him. Midoriya still clearly wasn't on board with taking things from others, but 'he wanted to help out as much as he could', as he put it. Dabi could respect that, so he gave him a few lessons, and he was out there.

And, wouldn'tcha know it, little brat was besting Dabi in only a couple of days.

If Dabi was to be honest with himself, he could pin it on the fact that, for one, Izuku had way smaller hands, and two, people tended to avoid sketchy-looking people with scars like Dabi on the streets. He had a sizeable disadvantage to start, but he didn't tell Izuku that. It was nice, seeing him prideful and happy. Was he about to ruin that to feed his own ego? Hell no.

Partially to make Izuku feel less bad, and partially for their own entertainment, they had made it into a game. A game that, apparently, the kid absolutely dominated at.

The days work thus far had earned them nearly a week without having to worry about not starving, so they were taking it easy, casually conversing with one another while Midoriya drew.

All was well and good until he caught the kid glancing at his exposed lower arm. He instinctively went to pull down the sleeve.

This again.

And that brought Dabi to the newest thorn in his side.

It was inevitable that a little kid like Izuku would become curious about his scars sooner or later, but his shy half-interest in them was getting annoying. He never asked Dabi directly—probably in an attempt to avoid being rude—but he kept giving his chin, ears, and arms quick fleeting stares before retreating his gaze back to the safety of his sketchbook.

Dabi almost wished that he'd just come out and ask him to his face.

And hey, speaking of faces, he could distinctly remember the first time that the kid noticed the marks on his own. As far as scars go, the ones on Dabi's face were a lighter irritated pinkish color, and from a distance, they were almost unnoticeable. So he wasn't surprised Izuku hadn't initially caught sight of them through his little fog. It was the afternoon of the second day when it happened, and Dabi was reading an outdated magazine about politics or dental health or some shit when he felt a pair of eyes on him. Dabi turned to face the kid, assuming he wanted to get his attention for some reason, but was extremely puzzled when Izuku's expression turned from bewildered to looking positively mortified; his face a completely new level of red. He immediately looked back down at his book, utterly humiliated, and tried to sell that it was what he had been doing all along.

Dabi didn't have the slightest inkling of what he could have done to exact such an extreme reaction, and he was about to voice as much when it suddenly hit him. Hard.

You see, all of his life Dabi lived basically secluded from anyone outside of his family. Hell, until recently he'd even been separated from his own siblings. Being self-conscious of several-year-old scars was not common behavior for him, really.

So, when it finally dawned on him, he felt more hilariously embarrassed, and even mad, than he'd felt in a while. As if the kid had purposefully walked in on him in the bathroom, no, the fucking shower.

And sidenote, what in the actual world could you say in response to something like that? The anger was misplaced, and the shame wasn't something he could explain to a child, so he did what any sensible person would do.

Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

The magazine felt a whole lot more interesting of a read, after that.

Thinking back on it, he regretted not addressing it earlier on. Getting it out of the way at the start would have been a smart move on his part.

But hey, maybe that was just him wishing he didn't have to deal with it in the present.

Dabi could start that conversation topic with Izuku later in the day (or later in the week, or month, or better yet, never), but for now he would let him enjoy the serenity and peace of the moment. It was the least he deserved, after all.

"Are we doing it today, or not? Cuz' I think we have everything we need now…" the kid asked abruptly.

Well, so much for enjoying the serenity of the moment.

Another take back to meeting and then immediately living with someone new, is that Dabi's always been one to get lost in thought. And not just the 'huh, oh sorry, what were you saying again?' type, but the 'what do you mean I've been staring at that vase for ten minutes straight?' type. It was apparently unsettling, and probably also concerning, when Izuku first asked him what was for lunch and he refused to respond or even acknowledge his existence. According to the kid, more often than not, those dazes included him staring down a strand of his hair like it had murdered an entire orphanage. Not something you can exactly brush off after the third time around.

This brought Izuku to shyly suggest that he should dye his hair from the color that he'd idiotically admitted was his least favorite, to a different shade. Of course though, he didn't say it like that. Closer along the lines of, 'we don't look similar, so maybe if you dye your hair dark people will think we're related!'. The kid was awful at lying.

Dabi only agreed because dying his hair had been his plan for a long, long time. It was probably good that Midoriya had decided to bring it to his attention as a possibility.

"Ah, yea, sure. Make sure to grab all your stuff," he said turning to walk back alone. The kid looked like he wanted to object to him leaving before he was ready, but didn't say anything. Were his actions purposeful? Of course. As much as Dabi appreciated the sentiment (and he did appreciate it, in a weird way), the dependance Izuku had with him was a problem. He wasn't sure if the insecure behavior was old, or if it was an after-effect of what happened (he had a hunch it was the latter), but it was getting in the way of a lot of things. Plus, Dabi knew that there was no way it was healthy, having an attachment so strong that you can't be in another room without getting nervous. He had to put an end to it, so he did it the only way he knew how to: not addressing the problem or dealing with it properly and hoping it goes away magically.

There was a definite pattern in Dabi's caretaking tactics.

"Dabi?" he asked, assembling his stuff briskly.

"Yea, small might?" he paused. Although Dabi had started purposefully leaving a room in order to get Izuku to face his issue, he wasn't going to ignore an attempt at a conversation. He wasn't heartless.

"Can...you try to get a job? Sometime soonish?" he urged quietly, brushing off the nickname. And the award to the most unexpected question of the day goes to—!

"Kid… you know—"

"I feel like I'm better now though, really! You could leave me at the station for a little while, I'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen, right?" Dabi could tell how hard he was trying to make it sound convincing, but the waiver was there. Dabi knew how much stealing sucked for Izuku, even when he tried to act otherwise, but he had to make it clear that they just weren't there yet.

"What's the worst that could happen? You could have a freak-out, and I wouldn't be able to come home until later. We have no form of communication, and you can't follow me around," Ouch. His tone was harsher than he intended, but he got his point across.

The kid looked down and crossed his arms moodily. He looked more frustrated than sad, so Dabi took that as a cue to continue. Big mistake.

"Look, Izuku, I see that you're trying, and I need you to know that it's not your fault. I just want to make absolutely sure that you're ready, is all,"

"But I am ready! I'm not a baby, you don't need to be constantly looking after me!" Dabi turned around again to full face the kid, caught off guard by the anger. Izuku was red in the cheeks and his eyes bore accusingly into Dabi.

"That's not what-I'm not treating you like a baby, I just want you to be comfortable and make sure you're okay before leaving you alone—"

"I am okay! You treat me like I can't handle anything, like, like I'm weak—" And the simmer of frustration from earlier? It had completely surfaced now. The kid was pissed.

"Kid—" he said. He could feel a flicker of irritation start in him,

"DON'T CALL ME THAT! I'm NOT a kid, I…"

"You can just decide that you're not a kid, kid," he mocked, and, immature behavior aside, Dabi's annoyance was beginning to rise in his throat. He stepped closer.

"You act like you're such an adult all the time, when you're not! You're just like the kids at school! I don't need you, It was all great before, I, s-she—" In the back of his head Dabi noticed the way that the kids' fury extinguished, and he physically sagged, but Dabi wasn't paying close enough attention. He, he was so frustrated and mad and he didn't even know why and then a thought popped into his head and then slipped out of his mouth before he could choke it down—

"See! This is what I'm talking about. What if this happened while I wasn't here? I don't want you dealing with this shit by yourself." He realized what he said was far more spiteful than he meant it to be a second too late when Izuku, who was crying angry tears now, snapped and started stomping towards the exit, his art supplies forgotten.

"Wha-hey kid where are you going?" Dabi stumbled after him but stopped dead in his tracks when Izuku turned around and faced him with the fiercest glare he's seen the kid give, if you could even call it that. His wet face was all scrunched up and red as a tomato, and his eyes shot daggers.

"I don't need you anymore, I never needed you! I don't even know why I came with you in the first place, I can take care of myself fine!" with that, he swiftly turned around and abruptly hightailed it down the tunnel, out of sight in seconds.

Dabi stood in shock, listening as his footsteps grew farther and quieter, until all he could hear was his own heartbeat banging against his ribs.

Then he ran.

He ran down through the tunnels, and up the stairs, and it was late that evening so there were people everywhere, a swarm of children and adults and he didn't see him.

"Shitshtshitshitshitshit--KID!" he cupped his hands around his mouth as he yelled and ran at the same time, scanning beyond bushes and in crowds for a patch of dark green hair.

He didn't see him.

He couldn't find him.

He'd run away.

He'd run away.

"Kid? Izuku, I'm sorry, I—Please come back, I really fucked-screwed this up, okay I didn't—" he tried, pleading into the world. He had to remember he couldn't say the kid's name out loud like that, people could hear, and they could take him.

Dabi didn't have him right now, so that shouldn't even be a problem.

It felt like a problem.

Lots of things felt like problems.

He shook his head fervently. Dissociation was the last thing he needed right now.

The kid was really fast, even on short legs. He'd gotten away from Dabi like that.

He checked everywhere he thought the kid might've gone; the park, the—wait where did kids go when they get angry? With a sickening realization Dabi registered that he knew practically nothing about Izuku other than he favorite color, and what cats he liked, and his least favorite color, and—

What was Dabi doing?

He'd adopted a kid. A traumatized child who he'd basically told to fuck off because he tried to cry about his dead mom.

Dabi was still a kid, technically. Once upon a time, when he was a kid, a real kid, who liked lizards and wanted to learn soccer and wondered why he couldn't play with the other children, he'd cried about his Mom too.

Dabi had found himself back at the subway station some time later that day (dissociation really can sneak up on you, can't it?). His legs felt numb, despite his body being more heated than usual from the stress. He'd been running a lot in the past couple hours, and he still wasn't sure why he'd come back.

Dabi turned on a lamp, and the kid wasn't there. He didn't know why, but he expected him to be, sort of.

Izuku's favorite color was blue, and white, and red. He liked them because they were All Might's colors. Dabi knew this, because Midoriya had told him.

He dropped to his knees and tangled his hands in his hair. He couldn't do this. Izuku was right, why did he even take him in in the first place? He was nowhere near equipped to take in a child, let alone a child that had just lost a parent. But his words hurt. And they hurt frustratingly bad. Like a black hole had opened in his chest and started ripping him apart.

Dabi might like the kid more than he thought he did after all.

"A coward.""

W-what?" he spat with as much spite as he could, hating the way his voice cracked. Pathetic.

"You're a coward. That's why you'll never be any good. You'll amount to nothing. You depend too much on those around you. And one day," the child quivered in fear and false bravado, mustering up a glare at the man glowering before him, even when a crack sounded,"You're going to drag someone down with you."

He was spiraling. His breath was stuck in his throat, and he couldn't, couldn't fucking breathe, why couldn't he—everyone can breathe just—

"Look what you've done, look what you've DONE to yourself!"

He didn't want to, because what he was feeling couldn't be possible, it just couldn't be, but he grabbed his head and yanked it down and—

He looked in complete and utter horror, reveling in the flames that he couldn't stop.

It had never been this bad before, It was painful, so so painful, but it had been, h-he, he had never even, even thought that—

"You can't control them, can you? You're not making them, are you?!?"

The conjoined pain and paralyzing fear killed his words, because what could he say? He forced himself to say something (anything) because if it was one thing his old man couldn't stand, was an unanswered question.

"N-no, I, am! I c-can, just, just please...please," he focused hard about forcing the flames back inside of him, hoping and praying that they would magically retract.

He should have just stayed quiet.

"You're useless! USELESS! You were supposed to be better! How do you expect to accomplish anything when you can't even use your Quirk right?!?"

He grounded himself into reality by clawing at the floor, which was hot because it was on fire. Dabi realized that he was activating his quirk without meaning to. Blue fire danced along his arms and bit at his face, lightly sizzling the old scars, irritating them into a deeper red. He froze in disgust and fear, finally startled out of his memories.

He forced himself to stop shaking, slamming his hands on the ground to hold them still, barely noticing the rough gravel digging into his palms.

"Christ, I suck" he giggled somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

"In for five, hold for four, out for eight. That's how you do it, that's it, you're okay, breathe with me."

Dabi played back again and again like a record tape. Her voice was small and frail, but also soft and nice. It vaguely reminded him of Izuku. She always was able to calm him down, but it was far and few between that she was even there to do so; physically or otherwise.

Take in a breath let out a breath? Got it?

Good.

Jesus, fucking calm down already.

Once he finally got his breathing in order, he was calm enough to rustle down his quirk and stomp the flames on the floor until they dissipated into smoke.

It was then that he remembered why he'd been upset in the first place: Izuku.

Oh, god, he had let him leave (why didn't he move?). He was out there all on his own, and it was-god what time even was it? A quick look at his phone, which was quivering lightly, enlightened him in bright bold letters that it was 20:27. The sun would be setting and Izuku was out there with no shelter, no one to protect him. The reality was more solid than it was before, and for a moment he felt panic nip at his chest, as if threatening him, before it settled.

His head was clear enough to answer a pivotal question from earlier.

"where did kids go when they get angry?"

He'd been hysterical before, probably, because it seemed blatantly obvious now.

Dabi got up and started racing through the tunnels and up the stairs.

He passed houses and shops and groups of people and a park that was empty.

He reached the building in what felt like mere minutes, out of breath.

There was a moment, as he scaled the fire escape stairs attached to the apartment building, when he didn't see him. Dread crept up his spine as he climbed the steps faster, his heart beating faster and fear taking hold of him—

And then there he was, his head in his hands and his legs slung over the metal platform, linked together tightly.

Dabi sat down next to him. He didn't say anything. He didn't have to.

"I'm sorry," Izuku said through his hands. Dabi was stunned.

"I-I'm, so s-sorry!"

He broke.

"I'm sorry for getting angry and yelling, a-and, saying I didn't need you, and, and for never leaving you alone, and for crying, and running away—I don't even know why I got so mad, but I'm so, so sorry, Dabi!" he bawled openly into Dabi's sleeve, barely able to even get his words out between the sniffles and sobs.

"Kid, Izuku, it's alright. It's more than, alright—well, no, this situation isn't alright, I mean—you don't have to be sorry. For any of that." Dabi reassured. He had a feeling he should reprimand him or something, or at least make him apologize for running away, but he couldn't. He literally couldn't be angry at the kid right now.

"...Really?" he whispered carefully.

"Yeah, really. I screwed up. I shouldn't have left you to deal with everything all at once. That was selfish of me. You can ask me anything, right now, and I'll answer you honestly." Dabi was surprised with his own words and the promise he'd made, but there was no turning back now. The offer also seemed to pique the kid's interest, as he lifted his head from out of Dabi's clothes.

"Anything?" he asked. There was a hint of mischievousness in his tone. Thank god he wasn't crying anymore, at least.

"Yep. Anything." Dabi confirmed, preparing himself for a long night. Izuku gave himself a moment, before blurting,

"Okay. Do you like dogs or cats?"

"You are actually the worst." he declared, elbowing the giggling Midoriya gently.

"Dogs, but I like cats too. Now ask me something serious."

Izuku stifled his laughter and then stilled for a second. He looked away and rocked his legs back and forth.

"Why don't you like red?" that one was easy. He was sure the kid had already pieced it together (he was really smart) but it was an easy starter question; an ice-breaker, if you will.

"Endeavor has red hair, and I already told you why I don't like him. Put two and two together and, tada, I don't like red! Next question?"

Another pause.

"How did you get," he reached his tiny hand up to poke his face "—those?" he ghosted his hand over them before lowering to tug at his shirt, unsure. This is what the kid wanted to know most.

Dabi had his answer prepared already, anticipating the question in advance,

"Well, I have a fire Quirk, as I'm sure you've picked up on. It can get really hot sometimes, when I use it a lot, so it can burn me. The places where I have scars are the places my fire spawns when I go past my limit."

"Does it hurt?"—

"Does it hurt, 𝔗𝔬𝔲𝔶𝔞? Does it hurt when I put pressure here—?"

"No, not usually. Only when I overdo it," the lie was unnecessary, but felt required.

Midoriya hummed in response and looked down at his hanging legs, swinging them casually now, instead of compulsively.

"Do you have a family?" he asked.

"Everyone has a family, kid." he stalled so he could think of something on the spot,

"Mom split when I was little, and I was never close to my dad. No siblings, either." it would be easier to uphold something that wasn't exactly technically a complete lie, as long as he was careful.

Dabi could tell how his answers lined up in a way that practically screamed 'LOOK AT ME! I'M ENDEAVORS KID!', but Midoriya seemed to take everything he said as fact, not seeming skeptical in the slightest. Izuku was pure and trusting. It wasn't a trait Dabi wanted to break.

"What was..." he stopped and rephrased, "Did you like your mom?"

Now, Dabi could have said anything in answer to this. 'No' would have worked. 'Never knew her' would have sufficed.

"She was a good person. I think she could have been great. I could have liked her, but—"

"Shoto—Enji, what's wrong with Shoto? Why is his face all wrapped up? What did you—"

"Relax, 𝔗𝔬𝔲𝔶𝔞. This wasn't me. I would never ruin my masterpiece."

He recoiled, confused, before looking back up at his father. A new horrified understanding in his glare.

"What did you do. Where is she?!?"

"She was a threat to Shoto's growth, so I had to put her in a hospital. He's safe now, don't worry."

Rage rolled off in waves. He stepped closer, seething, his quirk naturally activating in response.

"That's what you don't understand," the flames stung his arms brutally as they grew in heat, lighting the room up with blue.

"It's ALWAYS you."

"Dabi…?" Izuku prodded, nudging his head against Dabi's arm.

"What? Oh sorry. Yeah, she was pretty cool. I never knew her as well as I wished I did, though." He answered simply, hoping the casualness could cover up his lack of response.

They were quiet for a long enough while that Dabi considered suggesting heading home, when, out of the blue,

"How...does it still hurt? Her being g-gone?" he lamented. His voice broke a bit at the end.

And god, Dabi was such a moron. Of course the question about his mom earlier had been aimed to start up this type of conversation. Dabi could be insanely dense sometimes.

"No, not really, but I don't think your situation exactly matches up with mine, you know?" he said. The kid didn't respond, sniffling and wiping at his face.

"It's okay to feel sad, kid. Or angry, or happy, or confused or, or anything. Things like this are never black and white."

Again, no response, but Izuku's crying turned more hiccupy and loud, and he gave up on wiping away the tears and snot.

"I miss her."

Dabi stayed quiet (he didn't know what to say), but offered his arms in a hug. Midoriya welcomed the gesture, enveloping his small frame into the folds of Dabi's T-shirt, his sobs becoming swallowed by the night.

'We're going to get through this, kid.'

He hugged back tightly, and swore to the stars.

'I'm going to make sure we get through this.'

I guess I post it earlier than expected lol anyway I want to thank all of you for the support this fic has gotten so far!