Chapter Text
The harsh fluorescent light flickered above the bathroom mirror, casting a cold, clinical glow over your face. You winced as you dabbed foundation over the deepening bruise on your cheekbone, the swelling still tender beneath your fingertips. The makeup was cheap, barely covering the purpling skin beneath, but it was all you had. You pressed your lips together, exhaling shakily. No matter how much you blended, the discolouration still peeked through, mocking your efforts.
Your hands trembled.
You had to fix this before he came back.
Just then, the faint click of the front door unlocking sent a jolt of panic through your spine. You hastily set the makeup bottle down, gripping the edge of the sink to steady yourself just as the bathroom door creaked open.
"Yo," his voice was smooth, almost lazy.
You turned, forcing a small, uncertain smile. "Hey."
Dabi leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp, blue eyes taking their time scanning your face. His gaze lingered on the bruised side, his expression unreadable beneath the dim lighting. Then, with a slow exhale, he shook his head.
"You really fucked up this time, huh?" His voice was almost amused, like you’d tripped over your own feet instead of this.
You swallowed, nodding quickly. "I know. It's my fault; I'm sorry. I—I shouldn’t have—"
"Kept running your damn mouth?" he finished for you, tilting his head. "Yeah, no shit."
He stepped closer, the scent of smoke and something burnt clinging to him. His fingers ghosted over your cheek, a mockery of tenderness. You forced yourself not to flinch.
"Look at you," he murmured, the edge in his voice making your stomach twist. "All dolled up, like that’s gonna fix anything."
You lowered your gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. "I just—I have work tomorrow."
Dabi scoffed. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?" He let his fingers slide down to your chin, tilting your face up until your eyes met. "You owe me, babe. Don’t forget that."
You swallowed hard. "I'm sorry..."
You barely breathed as he studied you, searching for something—fear, submission, whatever sick satisfaction he got from this. Then, just as easily, he released you, pressing a quick, absentminded kiss to your temple.
"Good girl," he muttered. "I’m heading out. Don’t wait up."
The moment he disappeared down the hall, you let out the breath you had been holding, your entire body sagging against the sink. Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you—eyes wide, lips pressed together to keep from trembling.
You couldn’t break down. Not now. Not ever.
The apartment was quiet except for the faint dripping of the sink. Your hands were cold, but you willed yourself to stay steady. Your boyfriend, Dabi, had left earlier after a particularly heated argument that ended up with you getting a fist to your face, only to return later like everything had been your fault. Just like he always did. And even though he was gone, his words still lingered.
"I wouldn't have done that if you just learnt when to shut up," he'd said, voice cold despite the sharp sting of his hand against your skin. Then, as if that justified it, he'd pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the bruised area. "You know I love you. Just… stop being so damn difficult."
You had apologised even then. You always did.
You swallowed the bile rising in your throat, gripping the edge of the sink. This wasn't new. It should've been easier to bear by now.
It wasn't.
Before you could dwell on your self-pitying thoughts any further, there was a sudden—BANG!
A loud crash echoed through the thin apartment walls, followed by a string of curses.
"I SAID I GOT IT, OLD HAG! QUIT YAPPIN’ IN MY EAR!"
You flinched at the sheer volume of the voice, instinctively pressing yourself against the counter as if bracing for impact. It took a moment for you to realise it wasn't directed at you. It wasn't Touya.
The walls here were paper-thin—every sound amplified, every movement exposed. Another thud followed, then the scrape of furniture against the floor. Footsteps—heavy, deliberate, pacing back and forth. A deep, frustrated grunt. The distinct, tiny echo of a voice on the other end of the line, just barely audible, met with an explosive, "I DON'T NEED YOU TO FUCKING MICROMANAGE ME, ALRIGHT? I'M NOT A DAMN KID!"
Your heart pounded as you overheard the rough, unfiltered yelling. Someone was moving in.
Right.
The new tenant.
The landlord had mentioned someone would be moving in soon. Though, you had pictured a quiet, unassuming neighbour, maybe an older man or a college student. Instead, it sounded like an earthquake with anger issues had just taken residence beside you.
You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to gather the scattered fragments of your composure. This was good. A distraction. You could play the part of the friendly neighbour, putting on the sweet face that kept people from asking questions. Maybe even make a decent first impression.
Wiping at your face, you forced yourself to stand tall. Be sweet. Be kind. Be charming.
You pulled a jacket over your shirt, tugging the sleeves past your wrists and adjusting your attire before stepping out of your apartment. The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering overhead light buzzing faintly, but the source of the commotion was impossible to miss—the open door next to yours, where cardboard boxes were scattered in a messy heap, and amidst the chaos stood a tall, spiky-haired blonde, phone pressed against his ear.
"IF YOU DON'T HANG UP RIGHT NOW, I'M BLOCKING YOUR NUMBER—"
His voice echoed down the narrow hallway, and you hesitated, almost turning back right then and there. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
But it was too late. The moment you took a step back, his crimson eyes snapped toward you, narrowing instantly. His sharp gaze flicked over you, taking in the sudden presence of another person with a mixture of irritation and mild confusion. He clicked his tongue in annoyance before snapping his phone shut with a grunt.
"What?"
You blinked, caught off guard by the sheer hostility in that single word. "Uh—I just…" You quickly gathered yourself, forcing your best friendly smile. "I wanted to introduce myself. I live next door. Welcome to the building."
The blonde stared at you, unimpressed. His gaze lingered on your face for a second longer—too long. You felt an anxious pang. Did he notice the makeup covering the bruise? Your stomach twisted at the thought.
His expression didn’t change. If anything, it only grew more indifferent. "Yeah. Cool. Get lost."
And with that, he grabbed the edge of his door and slammed it shut in your face.
You stood there, staring at the wood, your polite smile frozen in place. Well. That went great. A sharp breath left your nose as you tilted your head, muttering under your breath, "Charming."
"Ah, don’t mind him! He’s always like that!"
A new voice—cheerful, warm—suddenly drew your attention. You turned to see a muscular man with a rather impressive physique and an easygoing grin jogging up the hallway, arms full of grocery bags. He had bright red hair that was spiked away from his head at all angles with gel, paired with slightly pointed red eyes and sharp teeth. You furrowed your brows in confusion when he came to a stop beside you.
He nodded toward the closed door. "I take it you just met Bakugou?"
"Uh… I guess?" You blinked. "He didn’t exactly introduce himself."
The guy laughed, shifting the bags in his arms before extending a hand toward you. "Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m Kirishima Eijirou, by the way. I’m helping him move in. He’s a pain in the ass, but he’s a good guy. Just… takes a while to warm up to people."
You hesitated before shaking his hand. "Y/n."
"Nice to meet ya, Y/n!" Kirishima grinned before jerking his chin toward Bakugou's door. "You know what? Hold on."
Before you could ask what he meant, he turned and suddenly pounded his fist against the door. "Oi! Bakugou! Open up!"
A muffled, "WHAT?!" came from inside.
The redhead rolled his eyes. "Come say hi to your new neighbour properly, dude! Don’t be a dick!"
There was a pause. A heavy, reluctant sigh. Then, after a moment, the door yanked open just enough for Bakugou to glare out at the two of you.
"What do you want?"
"Introduce yourself," Kirishima prompted, nodding toward you.
The man scowled. "Why the hell should I? Not like I need to be friends with this extra just 'cause she's livin' next door."
Kirishima’s brow twitched. "Because it's basic human decency? And you were a total ass just now."
A long, stubborn silence stretched between them before the blonde turned sharply and glared at you as if this was somehow your fault.Then, through gritted teeth, he exhaled sharply and muttered, "Bakugou."
He was already moving to shut the door again when Kirishima quickly used his foot to block it from closing. "And?"
A tick formed in the blonde's temple. "Katsuki. You happy now?"
You tilted your head. "Ecstatic."
Bakugo’s eye twitched. Kirishima let out an amused chuckle at your sarcasm. "See? That wasn’t so hard," the redhead teased before stepping past him into the apartment. "Anyway, Y/n, right? You live right next door?"
"Yeah," you confirmed with a small gesture toward your door.
"Nice! We should all hang out sometime." Kirishima beamed just as Bakugou grabbed the handle. "You'll thank me later, man."
"You're so damn pushy." He grunted and then shot you one last unimpressed look before shutting the door—less violently this time, at least.
You exhaled through your nose, tucking your hands into your jacket pockets before turning back to your own apartment. You weren't sure what to make of your new neighbour yet, you just hoped he wasn't another one of Dabi's clients.