twelve

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Tomura's POV:

I lock the door behind me, surprised to see the couch empty. "Dabi?" I set my bag on the bar and walk to our bedroom. "Dabi." He's not here. Of course he's not fucking here. We have a few hours a day to actually have time together, as a normal couple, and he's not here. 

He's probably left me a message but I don't care enough to even check. Instead, I go through Dabi's dresser. On the right side of his top drawer. I move aside all his T-shirts and pull out a vape pen.

Dabi hates it when I use it. I used to use it to calm down my anxiety, but he said that is was an unhealthy copping skill. He wanted me to quit. So I listened to him. I always fucking listen to him. I turn it on and sharply inhale. I start coughing as smoke pours out of my mouth and nose. I haven't used it in a few months. I need water.

I close the drawer and walk back to the kitchen. I open the cabinet and grab a cup, but not before the liquor cabinet catches my eye. Alcohol seems more desirable. I grab a wine bottle and a glass. I fill it half way and down the whole thing. 

My phone starts ringing. I assume it's Dabi, and he's the last person I want to talk to. I let it ring. Then it stops. I pour another drink. And it rings again. "Damn it." I check the caller  ID, and it's not Dabi. It's Hana. I decline the call.

mentally unstable pt.2 ~ shigadabiWhere stories live. Discover now