Chapter Text
There is a room in the League of Villain's base that only two people know of—Kurogiri, and Shigaraki himself. It connected to Shigaraki’s bedroom, the only way in or out. It was small and likely to be used as a closet or storage room. In this room was a desk with monitors everywhere. It was quite the setup; although not as nice as the computer setup in Shigaraki’s bedroom that he used for gaming.
On the walls were pictures taped up, pictures of people—men—And two in particular. Shigaraki spent most of his time in this room when he wasn’t bullying a group of teenagers. Shigaraki stared at the screens as he scratched at his neck, it was slightly scabbed from yesterday when he had scratched so hard he made himself bleed.
Tomura Shigaraki’s pale, cracked fingers drummed against the wooden table in front of him. His red bloodshot eyes were fixed on the monitor before him. Tomura was slouched over as he leaned a little closer to the screen. On the screen was a man—one of the men whose picture Shigaraki had hung up all over the walls of this very room. The screen held a grainy image of Dabi, sitting alone at a bar, the usual bottle in hand. Shigaraki’s grip tightened, nails digging into his palm. How many nights had he watched him like this? How many times had he silently seethed as Dabi drowned himself in cheap liquor, running from demons Shigaraki could only guess at?
He hated it. Hated the way Dabi’s expression turned hollow, the way his smirk faded into a tired grimace. Hated the fact that, despite everything, he couldn't tear his eyes away.
But he knew better than anyone that obsession was a sickness. A festering wound that wouldn’t heal, no matter how much he scratched at it. And Shigaraki was far too gone to care about the consequences anymore.
The room reeked of stale air and decay, much like his own twisted thoughts. But even as the leader of the League of Villains, he felt powerless against the gnawing need that consumed him. Dabi was a puzzle he couldn’t solve, a flame that threatened to burn him alive, and yet, he couldn’t stay away.
“...He pisses me off,” Shigaraki mumbled to himself, leaning back in his chair as he closed his eyes. “I should just kill him… It’ll save me some trouble.”
Shigaraki’s eyes burned, how long had he been staring at the screen without blinking? Shigaraki rubbed his eyes but stopped and looked down at his hands. The fingertips on his left hand were dripping with blood. With a frustrated sigh, Shigaraki touched his hand with his non-bloody right hand.
Yep. More blood.
Shigaraki’s eyes flickered back to the monitor, and if he left Dabi could leave the bar. But what was the likelihood of that? Shigaraki stood up with a huff and left his bedroom, stepping past piles of clothes and trash he didn’t bother to clean.
“Dad!” Shigaraki called, stepping out of his room and into the hallway. “Dad, I'm bleeding again!”
Shigaraki walked down into the bar that occupied half of the living room. Behind the counter stood ‘dad’ or Kurogiri. Kurogiri was leaning against the bar counter talking to Mr. Compress in a hushed tone, although when Shigaraki walked in all talking came to an abrupt stop.
Shigaraki sat on a bar stool, his head tilted to the right as he held his hair out of the way. A hiss left through his teeth as Kurogiri carefully applied disinfectant to the scratch. “I don’t get why you can’t just give me a Band-Aid.”
“Do you want this to get infected?” Kurogiri questioned. “I have seen your bedroom, it is horrendous. Gods know what kind of bacteria you are growing in there.”
“Ha. Ha. Very funny Dad,” Shigaraki said, rolling his eyes.
Shigaraki winced as Kurogiri finally applied the band-aid. Kurogiri’s eyes softened as he set his hand on Shigaraki’s shoulder.
Shigaraki stood up waving off Kurogiri’s hand “Don’t touch me,” Shigaraki said quickly.
Once back in the closet room, Shigaraki paused as his eyes landed on the screen. His hand was still resting on the doorknob as he stared at the screen. Slowly Shigaraki approached the desk and sat down, leaning closer to the screen.
Dabi was still there at the bar, but now he was no longer alone.
Hawks was with him.