Nightmares were nothing new for Dabi. In truth, he couldn't remember the last time he had a pleasant dream. What little slumber he had was either devoid of anything, a blessed respite where he was dead to the world and to his own existence until he opened his eyes again, or... well, something much worse. Most of his dreams branded the smell of burned flesh so deeply into his mind that he could think of nothing else. But he was used to that. It was impossible for him to change what nightmares his mind decided to conjure up once his eyes drifted shut and, after dealing with them for so many years, since childhood really, he was relatively unfazed no matter what horror movie began to play in the depths of his mind. He was used to them, especially the ones where he slowly burned himself alive. 

This one was different.

Choked whimpers filled the darkened room as his fingers curled into the faded green sheets in a knuckle-whitening grip, clutching the clean fabric in his bloodstained hands that smelled of copper and smoke. His heart pounded frantically against his ribs, heavy and fast, throwing erratic punches against his bones as if his shuddering body would split open and let it flee from the horrors that plagued his mind.

He mumbled her name like a prayer, a broken plea falling from the mouth of a sinner, hoping that someone might take pity on him... but he received no answer. No mercy for him, only the torture of watching her go up in the waves of burning blue that rose from his blistered palms. In a matter of seconds, she was nothing but ash and charred bones that once belonged to her. 

There was nothing Dabi could do to stop it and perhaps that was the worst part about this horrifying dream-- he was partially aware he was sleeping and yet he couldn't wake up. In some way, he believed he genuinely deserved this as some kind of awful punishment for everything he was and ever would be. For the sin of existing as the monster he knew he was.

And he couldn't fucking save her. He couldn't protect her because in the end he was the one killing her with his curse of a Quirk. It wasn't enough for it to slowly consume his own body- no, it was more ravenous than that. It would destroy her too, consume the only person who had ever made him feel something other than his unbearable thirst for revenge that still overwhelmed him whenever he thought about the unbridled rage that lurked in his ribcage and all the things he had to endure for fucking years.

But Rika... she had changed him somehow. For better or for worse, he wasn't yet certain, but she had brought some sort of light into his life that was wholly unfamiliar to him and yet, at the same time, felt more like home than anything he had ever experienced. He knew he couldn't stand the thought of her being taken from him and the constant rewind of this nightmare was the closest to hell he had ever been.

Because there was nothing he could do once it started again.

He felt like he was going to throw up. Nausea rose in the pit of his stomach and cold sweat soaked his clothes, but he couldn't stop watching the nightmare unfolding in front of him. One second, Rika stood before him, looking like a deer in headlights, locking eyes with him and offering him a gentle smile as if to say that everything was going to be alright. But it never would be and he knew it, because of what he was.

Dabi could see her reaching out to him and he tried-- he tried so hard-- to pull his hand away, but his body wouldn't cooperate. He was trapped behind his eyes and his fists collided with impenetrable brick walls, over and over and over again until his staples split and blood glistened on his bruised knuckles.

His skin began to heat up. Smoke rose rapidly from the palm of his hand, wrapping around her wrist to trap her, searing hot against her delicate flesh. Self-hatred sat in his throat like bile while he watched himself and knew--

-- there was nothing he could do.

Eyes widening, Rika gasped and squirmed in his grasp. Her attempt to escape him failed. He was far too strong to let her get away now.

And then his Quirk ignited.

Dabi jolted awake with a wordless scream, disoriented and engulfed in unwavering darkness. It took him a few moments to remember where he was and, even then, the tremors relentlessly running through his limbs did not subside. Untangling himself from the sweat-drenched bedsheets, he straightened up and adjusted the pillow behind his back until he was comfortable. It did little to change how the nightmare still dwelled deep in his bones, how he could still feel the unsettling fear in every cell of his burnt body.

It was a miracle Rika was still sleeping soundly next to him. He didn't want to disturb her slumber, really, but he desperately needed to touch her, to feel her skin under his calloused palms to reassure himself that she was really there and okay. And so, his hands slid over the wrinkled blanket to her side of the bed, to where she was supposed to be... and yet her place was empty and cold.

It hit him like a kick in the gut. His chest tightened in panic and he could feel another scream threatening to escape his body.

"Touya? Are you okay?" The door opened with a quiet thud and blinding light flooded the bedroom, as bright and warm as her voice as she quickly turned on the light and crawled into bed next to him. Her hands cradled his face and her thumb caressed the edge of his scars, where metal met discolored and ivory skin. Almost instantly, relief washed over him and he felt as if he could breathe again. "I've got you. It's alright. I heard you screaming and-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, he pulled her into a tight hug. He buried his face in her shoulder and pressed himself ever closer to her. His fingers clawed at her shirt and he held her as tightly as he possibly could to the point where he knew it likely almost hurt to breathe in his suffocating embrace. She endured it anyway, as she always did, but Dabi didn't fail to notice the quiet wince of pain falling from her lips in a moment of distraction.

He held her much too roughly, he knew, much harsher than she deserved. He felt he was probably always harsher than she deserved, even in his love for her. But right now he needed to feel her, needed to be sure she was really safe and alive and he wasn't trapped in another nightmare. He knew no apology could ever come close to making up for even a small portion of his mistakes, for his sharp edges and the ugliness of his scars. And so he only closed his eyes and let the soft fabric of her shirt slip out of his grasp. Instead, he carefully lifted the hem of the garment, running his fingers over her stomach and counting her ribs on either side, tracing his thumb over each bone with hesitant strokes, as if to make certain they were all there.

"I'm sorry," he finally mumbled, his voice muffled against her chest. Apologies had never been easy for him and he usually wouldn't think much of hypocritical repentance. It was too much like the empty words he had heard much of his life, devoid of any promise of change. But this time, he really meant it.

"I'm sorry. I didn't- it was so real. It was so fucking real and I don't want you to leave me, please."

He could feel the wetness of something like blood on his face and it made him feel painfully vulnerable in a way he also hated.

"Please don't leave me," he repeated with a shudder.

"Touya..." Her voice was so soft as she ran her fingers through the sweat-dampened strands of his hair. Dabi couldn't comprehend why... why she was treating him like something so fragile and precious when he knew he did not deserve to be held in such caring hands and certainly did not deserve to receive so much love. And yet, he found himself incapable of doing anything but leaning into her touch. "I would never leave you. I promise, okay?"

And he believed her.

He didn't know why, but her words did more to dispel the lingering remnants of the horrific images in his mind than turning on the lights ever could.

He pressed warm kisses against her neck before laying back down, pulling her to lay on top of him. He was thankful she didn't protest. He was even more thankful she didn't ask him what the nightmare had been about. They had an unspoken understanding about things like nightmares.

He knew he wouldn't go back to sleep. Not tonight. But that was a small price to pay to feel the comfortable weight of Rika on top of him. A small price for the knowledge that she was safe and alive and okay and that neither his own fucked up existence nor the ever-hungry fire that dwelled deep within him could hurt her right now.