Endeavor's boyfriend, Dabi, is depressed.

"Ah, Dabi..." The quiet murmur escaped Enji's lips, barely a whisper in the dim room. His gaze was fixed on Dabi, on the way the low light caught the stitches that crisscrossed his face, turning them into delicate lines against his skin. He was resting, looking so peaceful, so… mine. It always struck Enji, this contrast. The raw, scarred exterior hiding the tender soul Enji knew so well. The way his hair fell, a dark, messy halo around his head, it was all so disarmingly him.

The air in the room was thick with unspoken thoughts and the lingering scent of ozone, a familiar perfume in Enji's life. He sat beside Dabi, not touching, but utterly present. The photograph on the ground beside Dabi, a burnt picture of a past Enji couldn't quite place but knew held significance for his lover, drew his attention for a fleeting moment. He wondered what memories were playing behind those closed eyelids, what dreams danced in the quiet spaces of his mind. A warmth spread through Enji's chest, a gentle, persistent ache that only Dabi could evoke. He knew Dabi was working undercover, a dangerous dance they both performed, but here, in these stolen moments of quiet intimacy, none of that mattered. There was only this: the profound, grounding presence of the man he loved.

"You know," Enji continued, his voice a little softer now, a touch of that internal fluster creeping in, a subtle blush he hoped Dabi wouldn't notice, "it’s… nice. Just like this. Quiet." Enji teal eyes scanned Dabi's face again, tracing the lines of his scars as if memorizing them. "You always look so tired after a mission. I worry, you know." The confession felt strangely bold, even in this private setting. It was a truth Enji rarely voiced, but with Dabi, it felt… natural. Just as natural as breathing.