Chapter Text
"I'm so... sorry," [Name] said, her Sex On The Beach cocktail now nothing more than a distant memory. The vibrant colors of the drink were replaced by the stark reality of the moment as she felt the blood drain from her face. She stared at the dark stain spreading across the shirt of the man standing before her, his onyx hair glinting under the bar's neon lights.
She along with some classmates had come here to celebrate—to toast the completion of their penultimate, laughter and the promise of summer adventures ahead. But now, as she stood there, her heart raced and her mind scrambled to piece together the chaotic events that had led to this mortifying moment. The night had spiraled—drinks flowing freely—while her memories blurred into a haze of flashing lights and half-formed conversations, punctuated by laughter and, now, regret.
The man regarded her with an expression that flickered between confusion and concern, his shirt a canvas of evidence from the evening’s debauchery. Fragments of the night played back in her mind like a broken record: a misplaced step, a careless stumble, and then the unfortunate collision that had ended in disaster.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos surrounding them—his words cutting through the pulsating bass of the bar. His expression was enigmatic, an intricate mask hiding whatever emotions churned beneath the surface.
[Name]'s heart raced as she searched his face for any sign of anger or disappointment, desperate for reassurance. From the lower half of his face to his forearms, his skin was a patchwork of purple burns and scars—held together by medical staples that glinted ominously in the low light. Each mark told a story of struggle, a jarring contrast to the lively atmosphere of the bar. As he glanced down at the stain on his shirt, she could see the dark splotches suggesting something deeper—something that hinted at pain and resilience.
Panic surged within her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. Without thinking, she snatched a handful of brown paper napkins from a nearby table, her hands trembling as she began dabbing at his shirt with frantic urgency.
“I really do apologize,” she repeated, her voice shaky, the weight of her embarrassment almost suffocating. Despite her desperate efforts, the vibrant stain only seemed to spread further, a cruel reminder of her blunder and mocking her attempts at redemption.
She glanced up, hoping to catch a hint of forgiveness in his eyes, but his expression remained inscrutable, a mask of calm amidst her storm. The thumping bass of the music surrounded them, each beat echoing her clumsiness and amplifying her sense of urgency. If only she had the power to turn back time, to rewind the night and avoid this disaster, to save both his shirt and her dignity.
“Let me at least give you money for the dry cleaning,” she offered, rummaging through her purse, her fingers skimming over crumpled receipts and loose change as she searched for her wallet.
He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Don’t want your money, doll. It’s just an old shirt anyway.” His nonchalance only deepened her frustration, and her brow knitted as she bit her lower lip, determination shining in her eyes. She was resolute about making amends.
“At least let me heal the cuts and bruises on your face. Please. I have a healing ability.” The words spilled from her, laden with sincerity and urgency.
“If it makes you feel better,” he shrugged, his demeanor casual as he led her to an empty seat in a quieter corner of the bar.
Following closely behind, she watched him sit down, her heart pounding in her chest. The corners of his lips turned up in amusement as she pulled out a chair across from him. With an apologetic smile, she said, “Just so you know, I’ll need to get pretty close.”
“Go ahead,” he chuckled softly. “I’m curious to see your healing ability in action.” He leaned forward, and she hovered her hand over his cheek, taking in the full extent of his injuries.
A soft light began to emanate from between her fingertips, casting a gentle glow on his battered face. As she concentrated, a warm sensation spread through his skin, easing the pain and tension that had settled there. Up close, the cuts and bruises on his face told a harrowing story of violence, each mark a testament to his suffering. The lingering smell of cigarette smoke clung to him, a reminder of the darker corners of life he may have encountered. Curiosity bubbled beneath her concern for this enigmatic man, but it was overshadowed by a deeper desire to offer kindness through her touch.
For all she knew, he could be a wanted criminal, a dangerous figure lurking beneath the surface of his casual demeanor. But as a future doctor, she had been trained not to judge a person by their outward appearance. Her education had instilled in her the importance of compassion and impartiality. She was bound by a vow to heal all, regardless of their status in the world. This commitment was unwavering, compelling her to extend care and kindness to anyone in need, no matter their past or present circumstances.
“I’m almost done,” she said after a couple of minutes had passed in silence, the low hum of the bar fading into the background like a distant echo. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I’m here to help, no matter what.” Her voice was steady now, filled with a quiet strength that matched the soft glow radiating from her fingertips.
A normal person might have felt frightened by the sight of a man with marred skin, but not [Name]. She saw a mixture of pain and a faint glimmer of hope in his turquoise-colored eyes—a striking contrast to his battered appearance. They held a depth that captivated her, reminding her of a childhood friend she had lost years ago. The familiarity in his gaze tugged at her heart, stirring memories she thought were long buried beneath layers of time and sorrow.
When the man blinked, he raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his tone. “Is there something you want to say about my face?”
[Name] snapped out of her trance, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as she realized she had been staring blankly at him. “No. I was just thinking how your eyes remind me of my first love,” she replied softly, her voice steady despite her embarrassment.
“Is that your way of picking up men?” he snorted, his scarred lips curling into a smirk that somehow softened the harshness of his features.
“N-no!” [Name] exclaimed, flustered. “I’m not hitting on you! God, I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’m so sorry.”
He chuckled, a warm sound that made her feel less awkward, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “You’re funny. So, I take it you’re a hero?”
She shook her head, a dry smile playing on her lips as she looked away, memories flooding back like an unwelcome tide. “I’m not fit to be a hero,” she replied, her voice tinged with a hint of regret. “I’m studying to be a doctor so I can save people in other ways.”
“I see. That’s good you aren’t a hero,” he said, his eyes locked onto hers intently, as if he were trying to read her soul. “Being a hero can be very dangerous in this world. You never know what kind of darkness lurks around.”
She looked away for a moment, lost in thought, her mind drifting to the countless hours spent poring over textbooks and studying late into the night. “Yeah, that’s true. But being a doctor has its own set of challenges,” she said softly, her voice reflective. “It’s not just about saving lives; it’s about being there for people when they need it most.”
He watched her closely, his expression softening with understanding. “That’s quite the noble path,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. The sincerity in his gaze made her feel seen, as if he understood the weight of her aspirations.
She shrugged, a modest smile flickering on her lips. “I just want to make a difference, in whatever way I can,” she said quietly, her eyes reflecting a deep-seated determination that surged within her. “But what about you? Are you a hero?”
A scoff escaped his lips, the corners of his mouth twitching into a reluctant smile. “Hell no. I’m… just trying to get by, like everyone else.” There was a raw honesty in his words, a glimpse into the struggles that lay beneath his tough exterior, a testament to battles fought in the shadows of life.
“Just getting by,” she echoed thoughtfully, sensing the weight of unspoken stories behind his casual facade. “Sometimes that feels like the bravest thing of all.” Her voice was soft yet firm, imbued with a wisdom that came from her own experiences.
He met her gaze, and in that moment, a flicker of something unnameable passed between them—a shared understanding of resilience, of the daily grind that life demanded. Amidst the chaos of the bar, with laughter and music swirling around them, they found a fragile connection—two souls navigating their own battles in a world filled with uncertainty.
Removing her hand from where it hovered over his face, she peered at the area she had healed. Satisfied with her work, she nodded in contentment, a closed-eyed smile gracing her lips. “All healed up! No charge from your future doctor.” The warmth of her smile radiated like a beacon, illuminating the dim space around them.
“Hey, thanks, Doc,” he replied, the corner of his lip quirking into a half-smile. There was a flicker of warmth in his otherwise guarded expression, as if she had momentarily pierced the walls he had erected around himself.
“Call me [Name],” she said, scratching the back of her neck sheepishly. “It’s… awkward being called a doctor when I’m still finishing school and all.” She could feel her cheeks warm, but there was a lightness in the air that made her laugh, breaking the tension that had built between them.
“I’ll see you around then, [Name]. Don’t go spilling drinks on other weirdos now,” he said, rising from his chair with a playful smirk dancing on his lips. His eyes lingered on hers for a moment longer, a silent invitation hanging between them. His lips parted as if he were about to say something more, but nothing came out. The silence was charged, filled with unspoken words and possibilities.
Without thinking, she blurted, “Wait, what’s your name?” Her voice was tinged with curiosity and a hint of urgency, as if she needed to know more about the stranger who had momentarily captured her attention. With her final semester approaching, her schedule would soon be filled to the brim with exams, assignments, and clinical hours, yet she felt inexplicably drawn to the familiar glint in his gaze.
“It’s Dabi,” he said, his voice low and enigmatic, a name that felt like it carried its own weight. He raised his hand in a gesture of goodbye, his presence gradually slipping away as he melted into the bustling crowd.
The bar’s dim lights and the murmur of conversation seemed to blur around her as she watched him leave, the scent of smoke and leather lingering in the air like an echo of their brief encounter. Little did she know, it wouldn’t be the last time their paths would cross again. She felt a stirring in her heart, a whisper of destiny nudging her forward into the unknown.