"Who. . ." Momo swallows what felt like a rock forming on her throat, words hitched and incomplete as she stares down the pair of eyes staring. . . glaring at her. "Who are you?"

     Thoughts came in and out of her brain in a frenzy, plans and whatever means there were to escape making and breaking just as quickly. She doesn't remember what floor she was in, but she damn well knew she was not anywhere near the ground. Not a tree, not a crane, definitely not a ladder tall enough—there was no way this man could've been able to reach her window without some sort of power or skill that would mean he's capable of killing her.

     He remains silent, judging her with eyes that was burning with an emotion she couldn't name, yet so cold and unfeeling right alongside. God. . . who knew such a shade of blue could ever exist and be so human?

     If the circumstances were different she would've been falling in love with them, getting herself lost in an endless abyss of a cerulean sea. But. . . she wasn't. As beautiful as those eyes were she didn't know who they belonged to—what they've seen and do, whatever mistake, pain and anger it tried to hide behind them.

     And she knew that if she didn't act quickly she'd be the next mistake.

     Her glare remained on him, hands clutched tightly on the metal that grew colder and colder with each breeze that passed. So cold. . . so, so cold that it started burning the skin on her fingers.

     He doesn't seem to respond, contemplating what she assumes is definitely just him talking himself into doing something he might or not regret. If he said it out loud, she could've maybe talked him out of it. She might have managers and staff to do the more business side of things of her job, but growing up with a brother who talked about nothing but work had her knowing a thing or two about convincing people.

     She was running out of time, and he had the element of surprise. She wasn't outnumbered nor could she be outsmarted, but a part of her aches to be close enough to her bed and call a nurse, a doctor—anyone! She didn't fancy being alone if it meant dealing with this guy.

     All the while she panicked and fought herself inside and out, Dabi had already answered her question earlier. Sure it was a stupid answer of 'doesn't matter', but hey at least he answered.

     He was just waiting for her next dialouge, seeing as that's how conversations usually worked. But the words hung in the air as it completely missed her ear by popping right out the other, eyes on him but mind most definitely somewhere else. He pursed his lips from behind the mask, his feet starting to ache from his awkward and uncomfortable crouched position on the window sill as she continues to argue with herself internally. If he wasn't in such a hurry he would definitely be fucking around.

     But time wasn't on his side and he was running out of it, and even if he might not have known it at the time, so were you.

     "I need your help." He decides to speak to try and snap her out of it, continuing to stare thoughtlessly as she still drifts off in her consciousness. But it seems that was enough to have her pay attention, seeing the way her eyes. . . almost turned on if that made sense, like a PC starting up for the first time as she zones back to reality. "What?" Her grip had loosened from the surprise, but her knuckles went pale just as quickly as she visibly takes a step back. "Why. . . why should I trust you?"

     She knew she shouldn't have been talking to him right now, that much was obvious, but it would be rude to just leave him hanging and his questions ignored. "You don't have to, but I'm just saying that it would help Y/N." He doesn't ignore the way her eyes darkened at that, a part of her believing she can trust him at the mention of your name yet also feeling the urge to scream for help the more. Why did he know you? Did you know him? And if you did, why? What was your connection with him, and why was he on her hospital window?!

     Even more thoughts started to swarm her head, Dabi not missing a beat to stop her from zoning out again and wasting even more time. "Please." He wasn't one to beg, but it just slipped. Eugh, never again, feels disgusting and pathetic and it left a foul taste on his pride.

     "Is Y/N in danger?" Was the first of many questions in her head, being the only one she could voice out with a slight tremble to her voice. "Where. . . where is she? How do you know about her?"

     "She won't be if you don't help," He didn't mean to make himself sound so demanding, but it was the only way he saw fit to get his point across and taken seriously. "How I know her isn't important, but how we could avoid whatever danger there is happening before it can take place, is." He feels bold enough to jump down, partly to test the waters but also to get out of the uncomfortable position he had been in for a few minutes now, watching as the girl visibly flinches and almost moves behind the metal stand she so depended on with a shake of her head. "No. . . no I'm calling security," Her voice was weak as she falls back, feeling stupid for telling him what she had been planning but not feeling safe enough on her own with a company she knew nothing about.

     He panics, standing up with his arms held out to somehow stop her. This only makes her shake her head even more, now running to the bed where the button for staff displayed itself of so nicely. But he was quick, just in time to run past her and place himself directly between them. This of course makes her stop in her tracks, reaching and grabbing the long piece of metal used to place and remove hangers on the cabinet provided in the room without hesitation. She holds it out like a weapon, stance somehow correct yet uncertain as the tube connected to her arm slowly rose with blood. "Get out. . ." Her message was laced with venom and every intention to have him out, but her voice fails her in a fucked up attempt to make fun of her as it broke. "Please. . ."

     "I don't know how I'm gonna prove that I know her to you, but believe me when I say that I'm hating this just as much as you." He lifts his hands up and away from his pockets, to prove he held nothing and had no weapons on his person, "But just. . . listen to me, when I say that I need your help. Hell, it isn't even much as helping me as it is helping your friend."

     Her face scrunches up, finding the courage to take a step closer and almost jab her weapon of choice towards him in an attempt to intimidate. "Oh, oh she's my friend alright, and I know that girl wouldn't be stupid enough to befriend someone like you. You broke into my hospital room!" He looks taken aback from the way her voice rose, much less from the voice but moreso the fact that someone might overhear and intervene. "Y/N is anything but stupid, so her placing her trust in you is highly unlikely!!"

     Dabi wasn't one for patience, that much was evident as he took a few deep breaths to avoid saying anything that might just warrant further demands of knowing the truth. Fuck, he wanted to tell her the truth, but he didn't know enough to tell her a story that won't sound made up! So now it was his turn to remain silent, eyes scanning the floor as though that would somehow help him form a way to get her trust.

     "I. . . I was the one who shot you." She scoffed, "And what point are you trying to prove? Mine?!" It wasn't the best way to convince someone, definitely because no one sane enough would just walk up to a person and tell them that they almost killed them once. He was the reason she ended up in this hospital, but he was also the reason why it hadn't been so much worse.

     "I was planning on killing you, you know." Her face darkened even more, about to berate him for how stupid he sounded trying to convince her to help him. But he presses on, "I was just doing my job. The only reason you lived was because Y/N talked me out of it. Kind of. I don't know, the memory's blurry,"

     "Oh it isn't to me," She laughs humorlessly, harshly pointing to her arm that had started to bleed out from how much she was moving. "I remember the events quite well. You shot me, and you expect me to believe that you're some helpless saint that needs a random model to help him out on whatever stunt he was trying to pull? No thank you. You should be thankful I'm not planning on pressing charges or calling the cops, because I am just about this close to throwing you out the window myself!" Her index and thumb held no space between them as she so proudly emphasizes it, Dabi biting back a ridiculous comment on how she wouldn't be able to while that injured and armed with nothing but a glorified metal stick.

     But he was getting better at holding them back alright, instead getting back to his point. "Y/N saved your life when I tried to take it for my work. Fucked up, you can hate me as much as you want, but it doesn't change the fact that the only reason I'm here is to help her."

     "And why am I supposed to believe you? You can name throw all you want, get on your knees and beg for all I care, but without anything to support your claims I can't trust you to be telling the truth!" He couldn't blame her for being cautious, but holy shit was this whole interaction making him lose his temper. This was supposed to be an easy negotiation, come in, come back out with what he needed before any hospital staff came by to check on her. But guess that couldn't be helped, now stuck having to get a girl he literally hurt not even a week ago to trust him and his word. Fuck, why'd his life have to be this fucking hard?

     Before he could waste another minute trying to provide a reasonable and believable explanation, his phone in his pocket vibrates, both him and Momo snapping their eyes to it. He planned on ignoring it, not exactly in a free spot to text. But it vibrates again. And again, and then again, growing more and more pissed off as it shakes against him. He clicks his tongue, holding one hand in surrender as another went to check on it. She doesn't comment on it, much to his relief, but she holds the metal even higher and going on the defensive as he clutches the small device in his phone.

Dabi I need
I need your help
This taxi is taking me somewhere else this isn't the road to my apartment
The driver's ignoring me and I can't type much
I don't wanna jump out of the damn thing
Pls hurry
We're still in Chelsea i think
But we're goinf the oppsiite way of mt address

     It was hard, trying to focus on both the string of never ending messages and the girl in front of him contemplating if it'd be worth stabbing him. His brows were furrowed and panic soon settles, unnoticeable on his face but evident enough for the girl to look at his phone in an attempt to somehow see what he was reading.

     He gives the messages one more read as if to make sure his eyes weren't fucking around with him, before turning it to Yaoyorozu. She visibly flinches at that, but pauses as her eyes drops to the texts in much confusion and wonder. She reads them from top to bottom, left to right, each word letting her eyes widen more and more as her arms droop in worry. She seems to have finished it, before shaking her head and holding the piece of metal even closer to the man, "No. . . no that's not her," She shakes her head in denial, her eyes fighting back in doubt at the validity of his claims. She looks at it again, and then again, reading them over and over as if that would somehow tell her if it was you and you were telling the truth.

     Seeing that she still doesn't seem convinced, he turns the phone back towards him, tapping a few times before turning it to her with your contact and number now displayed. That would surely get her to believe him, right? There would be no way she wouldn't. She would see that it was you, and you were asking for help. She'd be lying to herself if she doesn't.

     And. . . it seems that he was right.

     It was obvious that she didn't want to, fighting everything inside that told her to trust in his word. He was a guy who managed to slip past staff and eyes, climbing, scaling the walls of the hospital to reach her room with almost little to no sound. She only figured out because of a fucking draft through a window he, soundlessly, opened, this guy was basically a ninja. He could be, for all she knew!

     "But. . . but why would she ask you for help?" She whispers quietly, eyes slowly trailing back up to meet his eyes that had an emotion she knew too well. Sadness, regret. . . but most of all unwavering and stubborn determination. He puts away the phone after a short but reassuring message of telling you he'd be on his way, before turning to her. "Like she said, she can hardly type already. I doubt she'd be able to call the police." He snorts, but it was laced with moreso anger than humor, "She can't exactly fucking text them that she might be being driven straight to her death."

     He takes a deep breath to stop himself from saying more than necessary, before looking at her with his brows still down and a frown settling behind his mask. "But if you believe me now, you best start cooperating. Now that we both now she's in certain danger, you of all people should know that there isn't exactly anymore time to waste." Her eyes looked glossy now, wet and biting back the tears that so threatened to spill as that familiar sting from right before crying settled in.

     God. When was the last time Dabi ever felt that?

     Eventually she sighs, dropping the façade as she also drops the metal on her bed in defeat. She falls soon after, head buried in her hands as she takes a few steady breaths to calm and recollect herself.

     He lets her, continuing to stand there in much awkwardness as she stays silent. Could she go back to yelling at him, please? He was a lot more prepared for that.

     "Alright. . ." She breaks the ice much to his relief, turning her head to settle her gaze on him in pure desperation at the idea of you getting yourself into danger. "What. . . how can I help?"

• • •

im on my way
dont do anything stupid and get yourself killed

     You stopped yourself from typing out a sarcastic input of 'oh yeah like I was planning to', instead settling for a thank you and shakily looking up at the driver. You've completely given up on asking him where you were going seeing as he didn't seem to be responding, just continuing to stare out into the road in what you could only call a hazy look. He looked out of it—not himself, dazed, even hypnotized if you so dare guessed. You were surprised he hadn't crashed into anything yet, managing to drive like a normal person without looking the part.

     You once again stared at the door in contemplation, wondering if it would be worth it to just jump out into the pavement and scream for help. You hardly were able to send your SOS' to Dabi without shaking in fear of what he might do next if he ever caught you, legs bouncing up and down as a sort of fidget. Building after building your anxiety grew, recognizing this as a road to downtown Manhattan. Fear engulfed your every move, the flashing and zooming lights outside being a constant reminder that you weren't home—that you weren't in the safe confines of your own space. That you didn't have a bed to run to if the fears got too much.

     And they were. They were getting too fucking much.

     Various ideas and thoughts popped into your head, appearing and reappearing in constant annoyance. Like a game of whack-a-mole where when you tried and hit one, more would just spawn out of it's place. It was a bother, it was a chore—and it all scared you to no end.

     You knew that you couldn't rely on Dabi too much, you knew that, but a part of you screamed at him mentally to hurry up. You understood that it might take some time, and that you might still have to get hurt just the slightest big before your knight in shining armor swooped by to save the day.

     The thought of just waiting for someone to save you ebbed away on your pride, many misdirected feelings in you all contorting into anger seeping out through the cracks of anxiety. You had nowhere to run, and all you could do was wait.

     You didn't mind waiting, waiting had a chance to be fun if you tried.

     But. . . but this was not fun. It was the complete and utter lack of it. The complete and undeniable opposite of it taking over your feelings like the plague. You could only wait.

     Wait for someone to save you, and wait in fear for whatever place he was taking you to.