( god, it drives him fucking insane. the way that enji says his name like it's some kind of prayer, like if he says it enough then he'll drag back whatever the fuck he'd been, back then, some sad, determined little kid trying so hard to catch his father's attention. but touya's dead, even if he brandishes his name like some kind of newspaper obituary, using it as his shield, as his sword, as a weapon only to hurt enji, to hurt shouto, to hurt rei, to hurt everyone. no matter how many times enji says it, it's not going to fix anything. not going to make him suddenly remember who he used to be.
this is who he always was, buried beneath his skin. maybe touya could have been someone else, in the end, but he'd been too weak. out of that husk, dabi had been born.
his fingers curl, angry, tight--he wants to torch the chair, torch his father, burn this place to the fucking ground. but there are other people here that he would need to tell, first, or should tell, or does that even matter? he can't keep a leash on his thoughts like this; they spiral, wild and out of control, and he has to actively force himself to pull his hand back.
another two steps, cautious, around the chair. when he finally stands in front of him, he can't help but laugh. it bubbles out before he can stop it. )
How the fuck can you be real, huh? Look at you. ( there's a wild rake of his gaze down enji's body, then back up it again, settling with a fiery determination on his eyes. fuck. he's so close to him. so close, and enji's looking at him--his stomach flips in delight. )
Father. How the hell are you here? ( real? he's real? looking like this? ) You shouldn't be here.
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this is who he always was, buried beneath his skin. maybe touya could have been someone else, in the end, but he'd been too weak. out of that husk, dabi had been born.
his fingers curl, angry, tight--he wants to torch the chair, torch his father, burn this place to the fucking ground. but there are other people here that he would need to tell, first, or should tell, or does that even matter? he can't keep a leash on his thoughts like this; they spiral, wild and out of control, and he has to actively force himself to pull his hand back.
another two steps, cautious, around the chair. when he finally stands in front of him, he can't help but laugh. it bubbles out before he can stop it. )
How the fuck can you be real, huh? Look at you. ( there's a wild rake of his gaze down enji's body, then back up it again, settling with a fiery determination on his eyes. fuck. he's so close to him. so close, and enji's looking at him--his stomach flips in delight. )
Father. How the hell are you here? ( real? he's real? looking like this? ) You shouldn't be here.