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A soft thing for Dabi
It's in the quiet of night, so late that neither of you should be awake, that the words escape you.
"It wasn't your fault."
They're whispered, so softly that you don't even realize you spoke them aloud until his head lifts from your chest to look at you with tired, confused eyes.
"Hm?" He nuzzles his nose into your chin, peppering soft kisses into your haw.
"It's nothing," You say softly. He takes your words at face value, or at least he seems to. Whether it's because he's not fully awake, or because he just trusts you that much, you'll never be sure. He just lays his head back down, resting his head against your chest once again.
What would he think, if you told him exactly what you were thinking? What would he think, if you told him that everything that's happened to him to make him the way he is now wasn't his fault? That it wasn't his choice to be born, to have a father like Endeavor who treated him so poorly he snapped at such a young age. That there had been no reason for him to burn himself alive over and over again just to prove a point that never should have needed to be made in the first place.
It wasn't his fault. He'd been a child. He never should have had to endure any of it.
But, like always, you keep your mouth shut. You hold him tighter, kiss his head, and whisper that you love him.