all that internalization of failure, that he'll never be what his father wants, too small, too weak. do you ever think it might be a problem for dabi when it comes to twice.
it's almost worst, isn't it? that they're the same height, i mean. how many times does he see jin's arm flex or his chest or legs. how many times is he comparing jin's body to his own, unable to ignore how solidly built jin is compared to his more scrawny and thin stature? what's even worse is how undeniably attractive he finds twice. there's a twinge of jealousy in his chest and it's festering there.
and against all odds, of all people, it's twice he ends up bedding with (his first, if you must know). he wants it but he doesn't. he can't relax, can't stop himself from thinking how much stronger, bigger, better twice is, that there was never any hope that he could be like that.
he fails at this too, hasty to start but unable to finish. always feeling embarrassed, always unable to look twice in the face, sure that he's either going to see him avert his gaze or grimace. always stopping and slinking away (and he really doesn't understand why twice keeps trying, or maybe--and this makes him sick to his stomach--twice is just too nice, pities him and doesn't deny the trip to bed or its inevitable conclusion)
it's that thought creeping along the back of his brain that he stops again, for the final time he thinks to himself. he collapses against the bed, but jin's either unaware or is just that persistent, and follows him down, settles his mouth against dabi's neck, pressing hard enough so he can actually feel him there. chest to chest, stomach to stomach, he bitterly thinks that his ribs must be poking jin something fierce, he must be disappointed by the feel of staples and warped skin and bones must feel against a real, actual body.
but if twice feels that way, he doesn't show it. and he can't help but marvel at the way jin lips feel across his skin and the way his fingers eventually run across a tender spot, his warm breath against dabi's face as he mumbles something he can't catch, but feels the weight of it all the same, the shame and jealousy and anger all fading away like a bad dream.
and when they both finish for the first time and jin's sniffling against his throat and blood has run from dabi's eyes to his temple, it feels like the past is truly and utterly dead. like he's always been here and they've always done this and they'll continue like this, tangled up together until the stars go out and the bright eye of the night slowly closes for the last time.