Flea

Chapter Forty Nine

Panic attacks for Maeve were unique. Because of her memory, sometimes it was possible for her to relive multiple events at once through the past. So while she collapsed against Mirio, somehow choking on nothing but air, Dabi was simultaneously snarling 'Don't test me, sweetheart,' wrapping uncomfortably warm hands around her throat, tugging viciously at her hair, and pulling the girl into his taut body from behind. 

In the blurry mix, maybe some of the arms grabbing onto her were Mirio's. It was difficult to tell. Maeve curled up on the floor, keeping her head low to the ground and pulling off one of her gloves. In case she went fully under and accidentally bit her own tongue, the girl sank her teeth into its white fabric. She thought she heard something about getting help, but was it Janus or Mirio?

"No, it'll pass soon, I don't want to worry them," Maeve gasped around the glove, gripping onto an arm to stop whoever it was leaving. They stilled. She felt a presence lower beside her and begin rocking her back and forth gently. A hand traced gentle circles in her back.

***

It was like in those cartoons where someone would be happily walking down the street before getting splattered by an anvil out of nowhere. Except Dabi wasn't walking down the street and said anvil was some kind of mental tsunami.

As soon as he woke up at midday and dealt with the same hangover all over again, the scarred man hopped a portal to Palace of Eros, watching Kamino's press conference on his phone. Maeve wasn't present, which he knew wouldn't've been her choice. Dabi wasn't surprised. There was no way authorities were letting someone who'd been in contact with villains the night before get up and speak on live television.

He only looked up from his phone when an unknown receptionist asked him what Dabi needed, understandably confused why a Frankenstein goth cross had entered the brothel at two in the afternoon. This one was less sharp than the other. Pictures of the league had been over every news site in the country, yet it didn't seem she recognised him.

"What do I need? Interesting question," he replied, before clearing the desk, pulling her out of her chair and dragging the girl around to the base of the steps, where he'd noticed a blindspot from security cameras they first time they visited.

"Is Psyche in?" he asked calmly, staring straight into her terrified eyes and giving a demonic grin, feeling staples on either side of his mouth stretch painfully. She had a blonde bob that was most likely a wig. If that caught so much as a spark her entire head would be engulfed within seconds.

"N- no. Please, please don't hurt me," she managed, not even struggling from shock. Goldilock's eyes flitted between his scars, piercings, and apparel, but avoided the man's gaze. 

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

"Well, she called in sick. I don't know if she's around."

"Let's go see then, shall we?"

Dabi let go of her bare shoulders and placed a palm against the prostitute's back, pushing her firmly up the first flight of stairs. He couldn't leave her down there, she'd just call the police. The girl also served as a nice human shield going up steps into most likely hostile territory.

It happened halfway to the apartment. He felt a wave of unbearable fear, which slammed sideways into Dabi's head with the force of a sledgehammer.

"Oh God, I just want it to stop, make it all go away. GO AWAY. PLEASE..."

The thoughts weren't Dabi's. It was the weirdest fucking thing he'd felt in his life; Psyche had to be upstairs putting up mind defences. Decent effort from her because his skull felt like it was splitting open. Almost crippling, but not enough. He staggered up, clutching a throbbing head in one hand and maintaining a firm grip on blondie with the other.