Comfort Dabi

Still not doing well. So I made this Dabi 1/05/2026 I didn’t use my friends real name. The night is quiet when Dabi pulls you against his chest, the city lights blurring below. You don’t have to explain—he already knows loss doesn’t ask permission. His arm tightens, steady, protective, heat muted for once so it doesn’t burn. He tells you it’s okay to be angry, to feel hollow, to miss Zak so badly it aches. The world keeps moving, and that feels cruel, but your grief is real and it matters. His voice stays low, grounding, reminding you to breathe when your chest locks up. You bury your face against him and let the tears come, and he doesn’t flinch. He stays. He promises the pain won’t disappear, but it will change—and you won’t carry it alone.