end all, be all (bnha x reader)

1. Drawing Board

draw•ing board
/ˈdroiNG ˌbôrd/
noun

1. A large flat board on which paper may be spread for designers or artists work on.

2. The intial draft or beginning of a plan, in reference to the phrase: "Back to the drawing board".

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There is a stern distinction between nervousness and anxiousness.

Dabi never liked to blur those lines.

He came to a quiet conclusion that there are two types of anxiety, nervousness, the berating kind of anxiety. The anxiety you get as a kid when you've gotten into trouble at school, and the car ride home is completely silent. The anxiety you get when you don't know when your next meal will come through. The anxiety you get when you realize everything has fallen apart, that this is your life now, the anxiety that bleeds and breeds devastation.

And then there's the euphoric kind of anxiety, anxiousness. The anxiety you get when you finally get ready to have intercourse with the love of your life. The anxiety you get on the day of your birthday, or Christmas before opening presents. Or the anxiety that you've finally found the stepping stool to get what you want.

This anxiety makes Dabi dance his fingers on his dark pants, his skin ghosting lightly on the fabric.

But, he isn't the 'openly expressive' type, for now his composure is cool and indifferent like normal despite the tingling of the 'good anxiety'.

The girl behind his is nearly the total opposite though, she looks as if she'll jump out of her skin from excitement. Bouncing on her toes lightly, eyes shining with delight, and a small blush.

Clad in a classic uniform covered by a school regulated cream colored sweatshirt, perfect for the chilly air nearing Mufustafu, blonde hair in twin buns, she looked weirdly...cute? In a freaky sort of way. Dabi wasn't gonna dwell on it.

At the moment, he has the impression that this freaky little girl is insignificant and slightly inferior to him. These are shallow thoughts but right now, who gives a shit?

It's not as if anyone can read his mind.

As he's escorted by the shady broker—who Dabi, is in absolutely no position to call shady, ever— a string of words leave his mouth that Dabi does not pay attention to as he's decided it's irrelevant to what he's thinking, hearing the joking tone.

He guided them both to a door that opens with ease, the entrance to a bar, he realizes.

The mantra a warm lights and a clean bar are engraved in his eyesight. It's clean at least. Surprisingly clean. A nice change from the dingy shithole places he's been to lately, and the dingy shithole he thought this was going to be.

On the barstools are two people, behind the counter there is one.

Immediately he is using photographic memory and engraving their faces into his mind, in case something comes of this situation. In case something goes awry.

The guy on the stool, he recognizes immediately, it's Tomura Shigaraki, the kingpin in this pipe dream disaster. The man of the hour. He isn't much to look at; Dabi removes his gaze.