Synopsis: after a passionate yet fleeting romance, Dabi cruelly dismisses you, leaving you heartbroken and alone, but determined to rise stronger from the ashes of your shattered hopes
MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II
The neon lights of the bar flickered erratically, casting eerie shadows that danced on the grime-covered walls.
You downed another shot, the burn of alcohol barely numbing the ache of your recent heartbreak. Your ex had left a gaping wound, and tonight, you sought solace in the chaotic embrace of strangers.
His piercing turquoise eyes, marred skin, and a smile that spelled trouble drew you in like a moth to a flame. You knew he was a dangerous villain, the kind of guy mothers warned their daughters about, but you didn't care. You wanted to forget, to lose yourself in something — someone — who could make you feel alive again.
It started with a heated exchange of glances across the bar, a smirk tugging at his lips as he sauntered over to you. Words were few, but the chemistry was undeniable. His touch was electric, his kiss incendiary. He was everything your ex wasn't — wild, unpredictable, intoxicating.
You knew better than to fall for a guy like Dabi, yet here you were, craving his touch, his presence. He never promised you anything, but the nights you spent tangled in sheets, the whispered confessions in the dead of night, made you hope.
Then, without warning, he vanished. Days turned into weeks with no word, no explanation.
Your calls went unanswered, texts unread. You should've seen it coming. He was a shadow, a fleeting storm that left destruction in his wake.
You replayed every moment, every touch, trying to decipher where it all went wrong. Was it something you said? Something you did? The doubts gnawed at you, each one a dagger to the heart.
The silence was unbearable, each day a reminder of his absence. Nights were the worst, the memories of his touch haunting you, leaving you restless and aching. He had marked you in ways that went beyond the physical.
You went back to the bar, hoping against hope to see him, to get some closure. The familiar smell of smoke and regret hung in the air, but Dabi was nowhere to be found. You sat in your usual corner, nursing a drink, the memories crashing over you like a wave. The way he made you feel — alive, invincible, desired — was now a cruel taunt.
Reality set in, cold and harsh. You were just another fling for him, a temporary thrill. The pain of rejection was a familiar sting, but beneath it simmered anger. How dare he make you feel this way? How dare he make you believe, even for a second, that you were more than just a fleeting distraction?
Then, one night, as you lay staring at the ceiling, lost in the whirlpool of your thoughts, you heard the knock. It was forceful, almost impatient, and it jolted you upright. Your heart raced as you crossed the room, a mixture of hope and dread tightening your chest. When you opened the door, Dabi stood there, his presence as imposing and unnerving as ever.
“Hey,” you said, attempting to sound nonchalant despite the way your hands were shaking. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Clearly,” he replied, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. His tone was cold, detached. The warmth you had once felt in his presence seemed to have vanished, leaving only a frigid distance in its wake.
He stepped inside without a word, his eyes scanning the narrow corridor leading to your bedroom as if searching for something. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension. He looked different — harsher, more distant. The man who had once held you close now seemed like a stranger.
“I came to talk,” he finally said, his tone clipped and cold.
You closed the door behind him, trying to steady your nerves. “Talk? You haven’t responded to any of my messages. You just vanished.”
“I came here because you wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone. I thought I’d come and get this over with.”
The casual cruelty in his tone cut through you like a blade. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sting of his words and the lump forming within your throat. “I thought we had something real,” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly. “I thought you cared.”
Dabi’s expression hardened further. He took a seat on the edge of the couch after making it casually to the living room. He scoffed, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back, taking a long drag from a cigarette he had managed to light on the way in. “You thought wrong. I never promised you anything. You built this whole thing up in your head, princess.”
The harshness of his words felt like a physical blow. You had opened your home, your heart, hoping that beneath his rough exterior, there was something worth holding onto. But now, it felt like all those moments you shared were nothing more than a cruel illusion.
“Is that it?” you asked, a mixture of anger and despair bubbling up inside you. “You come here to tell me you don’t owe me anything and then leave?”
“Pretty much,” he uttered, his voice dripping with indifference. “I didn’t ask for this. You’re the one who got it into your head that there was something more.” He stood up abruptly, his movement slicing through the air like a final, brutal punctuation mark. The cigarette burned down to a stub in his hand as he flicked it down on the floor. “I’m done here,” he added coldly. “If you’re looking for some sort of apology or explanation, you’re not going to get it from me.”
You watched him walk toward the door, his silhouette framed by the weak light from the hallway.
“No!” you cried out, rushing to block the door as he made to leave. “You can’t just walk out like this. You can’t just say it’s over without anything.”
His eyes darkened, the harsh lines of his face hardening even further. “Move.”
“Please, Dabi,” you begged, tears streaming down your face as you clutched the hem of his coat. “Don’t leave like this. Just tell me why. Tell me what I did wrong.”
He grabbed your wrist, yanking it away from his coat with a force that made you wince. “I told you to move. I don’t fucking want to hurt ya, princess, so better listen to me.”
“Why are you doing this?!” you cried, your voice breaking. “I thought you cared. I thought —”
“Stop thinking,” he snarled, his voice like ice. “Stop imagining there was ever anything more than a distraction. What did you think this was? Some kind of romance? You were a cheap fuck, that’s all. At least you were clean, not like the whores I usually fuck.”
The venom in his words left you stunned, your grip slackening on the doorframe.
He pushed past you, the touch cold and unfeeling, and opened the door.
You stumbled back, feeling as if the ground was falling away beneath you. “Get out,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “Just get out.”
He stared at you for a moment, his eyes devoid of any compassion. “Gladly,” he snarled, turning towards the door. As he opened it, he glanced back one last time. “Don’t contact me again. We’re done.” He paused for the briefest moment, then stepped out, the door closing behind him with a final, echoing thud.
You sank to the floor, the tears you had been holding back finally breaking free. The pain was raw, tearing through you like a wildfire. You screamed, the sound filled with all the anguish and betrayal you felt. “Why?” you cried out, your voice echoing in the empty apartment. “Why did you do this to me?!! You sick fuck!”
There was no answer, only the oppressive silence that seemed to swallow your cries whole. The walls of your sanctuary felt like they were closing in, the weight of Dabi’s rejection crushing you from all sides.
Eventually, your screams turned to muffled sobs, your energy spent. You lay on the cold floor, feeling more alone than you ever had. The apartment, once a place of comfort, now felt like a cage, the shadows lengthening as if to mock your despair.
You had survived heartbreak before, and you would survive this. Dabi was a chapter in your story, not the whole book. The scars he left would fade, just like the memory of his touch. You would move on, even if it meant facing loneliness head-on. But for now, you allowed yourself to grieve, to feel every ounce of the hurt he had inflicted. And in that grief, you found the first stirrings of resolve — a faint promise that someday, you would rise from these ashes like a phoenix.
