Bury Me in a Field of Flowers (and Don't Tell Them That I Love You)

Chapter One

The muted television throws Dabi's room into a soft blue light as he lies in his bed, watching the smoke from his cigarette curl and twist up into the air before fading. He raises the cigarette before his face and turns it this way and that, silently studying the small ember eating away the cigarette- leaving only ash in its wake. A small part of the cherry falls against his bare chest and with a sigh, he wipes it away. A long time ago, he became desensitized to the bite of heat. He snuffs it out against the ash tray next to him before he accidentally starts a fire. Shigaraki made it pretty clear that the next time he falls asleep with a lit cigarette, the expenses are coming out of his pay check.

Dabi didn't bother to remind Shigaraki that he doesn't even get paid. Instead, he did his normal eye roll and snide comment before stalking into the dark confines of his room.

He turns his head lazily to the side and blearily looks for the blinking clock that sits on top of his television. It takes a moment or two for his tired and strained eyes to focus and read the time, of course it's only half past midnight. He feels like it's been eighty-four years since he's tried to get some shut eye but in reality, it's only been an hour and a half.

A flash of red on his television draws his attention from his clock and his hand itches to find a lost remote to turn up the volume. With no luck, Dabi shrugs and just lies in silence while watching footage of an all too familiar hero soar through the sky.

It turns out it must be some sort of documentary on heroes because for the next half hour, he stays still- transfixed by the short snippets of a much younger Hawks. His brain slowly processes the fact that Hawks was just a teenager when he started rising ranks like a sky rocket and seeing him without his stubble is rather amusing to him. In almost all videos shown of him, he's always smiling or laughing, Dabi can't help but to feel the curving of his own smile.

His smile falls with the next shift of footage and taking up his whole television screen is the stern face of his father staring back at him with disapproval.

Dabi turns his back to the television and closes his eyes.

His dreams are nothing but petite flowers with soft purple veins that run up delicate snow white petals. Slowly, the flowers start to wilt before him and in their place is nothing but a raging and ravenous sea of orange fire.

A raven crows and hops around the quiet street, Dabi observes as it pecks curiously at a discarded bag of chips before it hops off around the corner. He shifts his weight to his left leg and checks the time on his burner phone, he can't arrive on time; he's started a game of how late he can arrive to his meetings with Hawks.

It's the little things in life that keep him amused and an overly huffy Hawks is always the best remedy for his boredom.

"Y'know, one of these days," Hawks pauses- taking a bite out of his burger, "I'm just gonna up and fly away. Making me wait an hour, really? Didn't your mother teach you basic manners?"

"Clearly yours never taught you to not speak with your mouth full of food." A gloved hand wipes at the mess around his mouth and waves the burger around with his other hand.

"Well, excuse me Your Royal Highness." Hawks snorts at Dabi's middle finger given in reply and rolls back his shoulders, giving his large wings a few flaps to work out the cramped muscles.

"Let's get this show on the road! I got places to be and people to see, whatcha need?" Somewhere deep down, there's a twinge in Dabi's heart at that. He tries not to dwell on this new surfacing feeling and instead takes his time to respond, only to waste more of Hawks' time. Dabi takes out a crumpled piece of paper that Shigaraki gave to him earlier and tries to decipher the barely legible scrawl. He closes his eyes and tries to remember what they went over at their meeting prior but as usual, Dabi couldn't be bothered to pay attention. Now he's standing here in a dark alley, trying to decipher writing that could easily be mistaken for an entire different language.