Red.

     One of the strongest colors in the color wheel. A bright tone that stands out no matter how many times you try and subdue it. You didn't have much of an opinion on the color, rarely ever having to use it unless you were going for a dramatic design.

     Where were you? Why were you thinking about that color now?

     You look to see Momo standing on the small stage, a dazed look on her face as she stopped talking. Was the speech over? Did she get cut off? You look down to see one of your personal favorite designs, her dress that could hide her in the snowiest and whitest of terrains now having that extra flair from the color you were just thinking about.

     Was Momo's dress always that red?

     Your friend's scream echoed throughout the dark night, shaking as she drops to her knees and stares at the forming pool of blood on the fur jacket. You get snapped out of your unresponsive state by a shove from Jirou, the girl's worried cries enough to make you go after them. You tripped and landed next to her, having no time to mind yourself as you stared at her state.

     Tears pooled her eyes, dropping one by one in unspoken synchronization down her cheeks. Your roommate trembled as she wipes them in desperation as she tosses her mask away, shaking hands fumbling for her purple handkerchief. Melissa held a hand to her head, yelling something incoherent on a phone and around. You could only hear bits of it, something about an ambulance or anyone being a doctor. Momo was huffing, biting her lip and struggling to let out even breaths as you clutched her uninjured hand.

     "Hey. . . hey, Yao-momo! Stay with me, girl, don't you dare close your eyes!" Kyoka's voice trembled, wiping away the stray tears as Raven's eyes blinked in desperation to stay awake. You mumbled apologies under her breath as though you were somehow responsible, teeth chattering from both the cold and the sight of your friend bleeding out in front of you.

     "Fuck, fuck! How do we—pressure, pressure, right? Right?! Do we—" You nod at Jirou before she can continue in hysteria, helping her remove the jacket from the model. She shakily lifts up the arm, trying not to pass out herself from the sight of all the blood Yaoyorozu was losing. She mumbles an apology before placing and wrapping it around the wound as best she could. "We need to get her to a hospital," You breathed out, giving her hand one last squeeze before standing up and looking for Melissa.

     The blonde was making her way up to wherever the helmsman was. The people around panicked and gathered around the girl, yelling out to be let off the boat. You saw her family close in around her in worry, pushing Jirou away as a result. She didn't seem to mind although, much more worried about her friend's state than whether or not she was near her.

     Taro was kneeled beside her, trying to wipe away the tears and push her hair out of her face with quiet coos. You stood at a distance, just in time to catch him glancing at your direction. You held eye contact, shaking your head with the ghost of a scowl on your face. He kept on the act, looking concerned before disappearing behind the crowd. You huffed, going after Melissa with a shake of your head.

     How fucking dare he put on this whole act pretending to care— the mere sight of him was enough to grate on your nerves like nails on a chalkboard, wishing that the bullet somehow missed and hit his stupid face instead.

     You took in a deep breath, remembering that now wasn't the time and that you should worry about your friend getting to a hospital.

     Not even a few hundred feet away from you a party cheers, another job well done under their belts.

     Dabi held on a stoic look as he removes himself from the weapon. He grips the gun, pushing himself up and off the basketball ring. It shifted and creaked under his weight, landing with a small thud beside an amused Shigaraki. He had a look of triumph, closing his eyes as he listened to the cries coming from the yacht with a hum. "Wow," He scoffs, opening his eyes as he keeps them on the boat, "I can't believe it! You actually had the balls to do. . ."

     He trails off as the black haired man drops the gun on the concrete, bored and not in the mood as he follows his comrade's gaze. On the boat the target leans on another person as she gets escorted off, her arm heavily wrapped in gauze and bleeding cloth. The boat had come a lot closer to shore after the bullet hit, presumably looking for a proper place to dock.

     Tension filled where silence couldn't, the oddly clenched fists of their leading man enough to catch the attention of all three of them. "You fucking," He rolls up his sleeves, turning to Dabi and hooking him right in the jaw. "TRAITOR!"

     The impact made Toga wince, hands clutching onto Mr. Compress' shoulders as he only holds out a hand to stop her from moving forward and any of the sorts. The black haired male only keeps his head at where it stopped from the hit, somehow managing to keep calm despite what had just happened.

     His bright blue eyes glanced to Shigaraki's face, brows relaxed despite the awkward position his body currently held. He takes a breath, standing up normally as he holds full eye contact. The man before him seethed with rage, pupils constricted as each breath came out in a huff.

     He turns a moment later, stomping over to the gun and taking it for himself. He holds it to his shoulder, before turning to the yacht with a snarl. He growled, planning to aim it straight towards the girl's head. Shigaraki groaned in both frustration and anger, finding Yaoyorozu nowhere near where she had originally stood at. He couldn't see her, and even if he did, he wasn't at a place to get a proper shot.

     He turns to Dabi to berate him more, but can only find his figure walking off. "You asshole, you better finish the fucking job or so help me God—I'll shoot you myself!" He doesn't respond, keeping up his pace.

     "Sh-Shigaraki!" Compress trembles, watching as the man aims it at the phoenix's back with his teeth bared. At that he stops walking, turning to him just as he pulls the trigger. Toga yelps, hiding behind the tophat wearing man's back and staying there. She was used to seeing people die, hell, it was her job. But even she has to admit where certain times it didn't sit right with her, not wanting to see it happen right before her eyes.

     But much to her surprise. . . nothing happened.

     Shigaraki looked even more angry as he stares at the gun, continuing to pull the trigger but getting nothing in response. "What the—Atsuhiro! Ammo, now!" He flinched at the mention of his real name, hands shaking as he holds Toga back, "I. . . I don't have any. . !" He dares respond, earning a glare and an aggravated groan of disappointment and pure rage.

     Left with no choice, he rips off his gloves and makes his way to Dabi. Each step got quicker and quicker, the sounds of his shoes pounding against the pavement only feeding more to his anger. That's all that he felt right now—anger. The way Dabi didn't even care about it as he walked away was enough to send him over the edge, but the way he didn't even make an effort to avoid the hit or make some snarky remark as he fights back with his own tells him that this wasn't the same man he worked with.

     The Dabi he knew didn't hesitate to kill a man. Or woman. Or anything in between! He let him work with them because of that—he was hired for the very same reason he wanted to kill him right now: He didn't care. He never did, he never tried! But now. . . oho, now, he decides he can just act like this because of some girl he saved?! Dabi turned against their work and became an actual fucking enemy to Shigaraki. . . over a woman?

     He was so close, so near to just crumbling the shit out of him. He could picture himself grabbing hold of his neck, feeling both flesh and bone disappearing into nothing but dust beneath his fingers. So close. . . one touch on that bastard and he'd be dead!

     . . .

     But he stopped. Or rather, gets stopped by a blonde who jumped in at the very last second. She was crying now, sobbing in fact, as she wrapped her arms around him to stop him from going any further. "Shigaraki please. . !"

     "Let go of me."

     "This isn't—"

     "I said fucking let go of me!" He shoves his elbow behind and, coincidentally enough, that's where her face was. She cries, but keeps her grip, "I'm not gonna let you kill him just because of a missed shot!"

     He struggled against her surprisingly strong hold, hissing in frustration. "Why the fuck do you suddenly care?! What, you're gonna tell me next that you were in on this? Huh?!" He finally manages to get out by grabbing hold of her arm, all five digits touching as the girl's eyes widen in horror.

     "Shigaraki—!" He gets shut up pretty easily as he gets met with a red eyed glare, watching in hopelessness as Toga's skin slowly cracked and crumbled. Tears were running down her face, crying and whining as she desperately tries to pull away. His powers spread up, and up, and up! The cracks formed all the way up to her elbow, splitting and forming different shapes as she slowly starts to bleed. "This!" He finally lets go, lifting up her flailing wrist and thrusting it towards Mr. Compress to emphasize a point as she yelps, "This is what happens when you fucking go against me!"

     He keeps his head down, sweat hidden beneath his mask and hat. Finally their leader drops her wrist, snapping his head towards the direction Dabi went to only to find. . . an empty street.

     By now he was long gone, away and out of sight from the angered beast that was Shigaraki. His hands twitched and itched to have something to break, wanting to be able to crush Dabi's windpipe with his own hands and powers. Toga's hand was nothing but a warmup to him, he wasn't satisfied with it. He wanted that fucking fire chicken's neck, and he wanted it now.

     But. . . nothing.

     His figure wasn't there, not a single trace of him was.

     Toga whimpered as the other man holds her, not wanting to go against Shigaraki's orders but feeling some sort of paternal instinct kicking in at the sight of this highschool girl crying in pain with her arm crumbling to pieces like fine China. He flinched as he feels the red-eyed's glare land on him, burning a hole down his hat as he keeps his head low.

     He doesn't say a word, settling with another growl as he finally walks off in anger.

     This was supposed to be an easy mission. Kill the girl, get the cash, go drink. But now. . . Atsuhiro's eyes gazed to the blonde's face, hers unfocused and red as tears continued falling mercilessly. "I wanna go home. . ." She whimpers, hiding her face as she lowers her head, "I want. . . I want to go home. . ."

• • •

     The ambulance rolled off into the night with it's all too knowing cry, piercing the previous silence as you sit next to the two other girls.

     The various guests were getting onto fancy cars, some complaining as some cried in hysteria as though they were the ones shot. The yacht's music had not stopped, it's track not at all fitting the night's events as you sighed and rubbed your temples. "Fucking hell. . ."

     Melissa was leaning on you, face lacking any sort of emotion as Jirou stayed with her head in her hands. "Are we allowed to visit her. . ?" The blonde asks in a soft voice, gripping the expensive fabric of her baby blue dress. "Or is it soon?"

     "I think it'd be better if we wait until tomorrow," You whisper, sighing as you leaned back on the stone-cold seat. "With that we can at least give the situation some time to settle and ourselves a clear mind before we delve back into what happened. . ." You voice slowly trails off as you once again sigh, watching the cold air exit in a puff and disappearing into the night.

     You turn to your roommate, who's remained silent since earlier. She still held her head, thankfully her breath now somewhat more even. You open your purse, glancing at the time displayed on your phone. It was nearing midnight, and all of you needed the rest. "We should head back home. I can get us a cab," You offered, earning nothing from Jirou but a nod from Melissa. "Yeah, we should."

     She sits up, stretching her neck before giving you a quick side hug. You leaned into it, trying your best to reciprocate, "I'll go give dad a call." She stands up, walking over to give Jirou a hug of her own, "Goodnight, guys." You wave her goodbye as she walks off into the distance, taking out her phone and dialing who you assumed was her father.

     You remained in silence as your roommate sits there beside you hunched over. She finally took her hands away, but you still couldn't see her face. "Hey. . ." You quietly coaxed, softly tapping her foot with your own heels, "You ready to go home?"

     She stays unresponsive for a few moments, before sighing and softly nodding. "More than anything." You sigh inwardly at the sight of her finally sitting back up, cracking her back as she groans in a stretch, "Crying all night feels good but doesn't really solve anything." You laugh softly, accepting her hand as she lifts you up to your feet. Patting her shoulder, you lock arms with her and make your way over to the nearest taxicab stand.

     The night was cold, it nipped at your face and it felt overall unwelcoming. But more than anything it embraced your figure in a hug better than anyone else, finding it comforting to know that the cold is always somehow there each time something unfortunate happens. It was a weird way to cope, but it was the way you decided to go with and you didn't have plans to change that.

     In the end the ride back remained silent, glad and thankful that the impromptu end of your trip was at Midtown East, where you and your friends frequented for lunch. The ride back to Chelsea didn't take long, the process of arriving home and getting ready for bed a big blur until you arrived back in your office.

     You had changed into your pajamas, it being a pair of comfortable pants and a sweater you found at the bottom of your drawer. You somehow felt right at home surrounded by the evidence there was pointing to you being crazy, scattered papers and pieces of information littering both your desk and floor. It would be a miracle to discover anything in this mess, sighing as you decide to leave the problem to future Y/N and head for your bedroom.

     Yeah she probably won't do it either, but at least she had the benefit of sleep.

     Or at least, you hoped that she will.

     You sigh as you stalked over to your room, looking down at the couch to see Jirou sprawled over it with a bowl of oatmeal in her hands and Sir Hamilton on her lap. God, if anything were a sign of stress eating it'd be that. The music enthusiast would never eat oatmeal on a good day, let alone a full bowl of it. You first discovered this habit of hers in college, not knowing she would be bringing it over to even now.

     You stare at her for a bit more before finally feeling creepy, shaking your head and heading to your bedroom door. The white wood greeted you just as it had many nights before, but it felt like it had been so long since the last time you actually slept inside. You fumbled with it, cursing yourself for locking it despite the obvious reasons as to why.

     And obvious reason number one was sitting hunched over on your bed.

     At this point you weren't surprised, taking a deep breath and closing the door behind you with a soft thud. Finally Dabi looks up, staring you straight in the eyes. You raised a brow, expecting a flirty remark to exit his mouth. That, or a playful apology. Hell, even anything snarky would be more in-character.

     But. . . none of those happened.

     He just stared, and stared; his blue eyes drooped and devoid of life as he stares into yours. His lips were a tight line on his face, his hair down and over his ruggedly handsome features as hands lazily swung between his legs. He looked so. . . out of place. He looked confused, sad, depressed—but buried beneath all that was a weird sense of anger. Something fouled Dabi's mood, but you weren't exactly sure what did.

     . . .

     Holy fucking hell what am I supposed to do?! Siri, how do I cheer up a person who shot my friend and broke into my room?!—

     You snap out of your gaze as he inhales, leaning back as he forces on a smirk. "Hey."

     "Hey."

     His voice sounded as dead as he looked, his tone just as lifeless as his eyes as you frowned. "Hey. What's wrong?" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You shouldn't be asking that. I put a bullet in your bestfriend's arm and you're the one asking me what's wrong. You're a weird one, Y/N." Your mouth curled downward even more, stalking towards him with a raised brow. Dabi? Calling you by your actual name instead of a flirty, non-consistent petname? Not in this economy, bub!

     "Yes, that's wrong, I know, but something else is bothering you. Care to tell me, sweetheart?" He looks the slightest bit amused, trusting that it would get his attention despite the forced tone as he softly chuckles at your antics. "Sorry, I'm just. . ." He sighs, patting the spot beside him. "You got time?"

     "If it means getting you off my bed then yeah sure."

     He rolls his eyes with humor, waiting until he feels the foam mattress shift from the added weight. "Alright what is—woah okay," You cut yourself off as you feel him lean towards you, hands instinctively trying to hold his frame. "Uhh, hello??"

     "Sorry, sorry. I just. . . I don't have an excuse, babe," He sighs into the crook of your neck, hands managing to wrap themselves around your waist before you have a chance to stop him. "I just really need a hug."

     You suppress a bubbling laughter in your throat with a snicker, before clearing your throat and forcing out a sigh, "Five minutes, but start talking." He chuckles softly once again, before nodding on your shoulder as he pulls you closer.

     Damn, guess sleep is off the agenda tonight. Deepest apologies, future Y/N, I'm still a bitch.

note ; i just finished rottmnt last night lol i feel devoid of everything head empty only donnie and wanting season fucking  t h r e e