Chapter 22: Aftermath
The air in the Inferno Club’s VIP lounge hung thick and still, saturated with the ghosts of expensive cigars and whispered deals gone sour. Crimson velvet swallowed the scant light from flickering black candles perched on obsidian sconces, casting long, dancing shadows. Dante Morningstar sat alone in a deep, wingback chair upholstered in the same bloody fabric, a half-empty glass of bourbon dark as tar resting on the armrest. His posture was deceptively relaxed, but the stillness radiating from him was absolute, predatory. The faint, lingering scent of ozone and charred divinity clung to him, a stark reminder of the battlefield carnage mere hours past. He stared into the shifting shadows, his expression unreadable, the intricate tattoos snaking across his bare torso seeming to writhe in the low light.
The heavy velvet curtain separating the lounge from the club’s main floor ripped aside. Dabi stood there, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling beneath his torn shirt. Ash smudged his jawline, dried blood crusted near his temple, but his eyes burned with a fury hotter than his own blue flames. He stalked into the oppressive silence, the thick carpet muffling his steps but doing nothing to dampen the raw anger vibrating off him. He stopped a few feet from Dante’s chair, fists clenched at his sides.
"Why?" The word cracked out, sharp as broken glass. "Why the fuck did you fuck Sukuna?"
Dante didn’t move. Didn’t look up. For a heartbeat, the silence pressed down even heavier. Then, slowly, his head turned. His eyes, previously shadowed, ignited. Not grey. Molten, searing gold, like twin suns erupting in the gloom. The temperature in the lounge plummeted. He rose from the chair in one fluid, terrifyingly controlled motion, unfolding to his full height. The sheer force of his presence, ancient and furious, slammed into Dabi like a physical blow.
"Are you fucking serious?" Dante’s voice was low, a Detroit rasp scraped raw over gravel. It wasn’t loud. It was worse. It vibrated in Dabi’s bones.
He took a single step forward, closing the distance. The gold fire in his eyes pinned Dabi where he stood. "You walk in here," Dante began, the words dripping venomous disbelief, "stinking of battlefield grime and cheap indignation… and you ask me that? After what you did?"
He didn’t wait for an answer. The dam broke. "Literal moments, Dabi!" Dante snarled, the sound tearing through the velvet silence. "Fucking moments after I had you bent over that fucking bar in the main room! After I fucked you raw, made you scream my name until your throat was fucking shredded! After I told you I fucking loved you!" Each word landed like a hammer blow. "You remember that? Or did Hawks fuck it out of your head?"
Dabi flinched, his own anger momentarily eclipsed by the brutal, explicit recall Dante forced upon him. The memory surged – the cold bar edge biting into his hips, Dante’s relentless thrusts splitting him open, the raw, filthy words growled against his ear, the shocking, unexpected declaration hanging in the smoky air afterwards. And then… Hawks.
Dante saw the flicker in Dabi’s eyes. Saw the recognition, the shame beneath the defiance. It fueled him. "You crawled out from under me," Dante continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous, intimate growl, stepping even closer, forcing Dabi to tilt his head back to maintain eye contact, "still dripping my fucking come, reeking of me… and you went straight to him. Let him put his hands on you? His cock in you? Did you tell him you loved him too? While you were still wet from me?"
The imagery was brutal, explicit, designed to wound. Dabi’s jaw tightened, his fists trembling. "That’s not—"
"Not what?" Dante cut him off, a sharp, humorless bark. "Not fucking relevant? Not your goddamn business who I fuck? Is that it?" He leaned in, the heat radiating from his body now palpable, smelling of bourbon, brimstone, and violent intent. His molten gold eyes bored into Dabi’s. "What the fuck was I supposed to do, huh? Brush it off like it was nothing? Smile and fucking wave while you spread your legs for the first pretty bird who chirped at you?"
He paused, the silence crackling. Dabi could hear his own heart pounding against his ribs, a frantic drum against the suffocating tension. Dante’s voice dropped lower, rougher, thick with a fury that felt millennia old. "Was I supposed to ignore that shit? Pretend I didn’t see? Pretend I didn’t fucking know?" Another step. Dante was almost chest-to-chest with him now. Dabi could feel the power coiled in him, barely leashed. "Tell me, Dabi. Since you’re so keen on asking questions tonight." His gaze was relentless, unforgiving. "What the fuck did you want me to do… after I found out you were fucking Hawks?"
The question hung, brutal and unavoidable. Dabi opened his mouth, defiance flashing, ready to spit something back – an accusation, an excuse, anything. But Dante didn’t give him the chance
Dabi’s chin jerked up, defiance hardening his bruised features. "You don’t get to fucking judge me!" he spat, the words sharp and brittle. "You fuck whoever you want, whenever you want! Sukuna? Seriously? After everything?"
The molten gold in Dante’s eyes flared white-hot, incandescent with fury. "PLEASE!" The roar ripped through the lounge, shaking the velvet drapes, making the candle flames gutter violently. Dante surged forward, invading Dabi’s space completely, forcing him back a step. "Fucking tell me!" His voice cracked, raw and ragged. "What the hell were you expecting me to do? Huh? Throw you a fucking parade? Congratulate you on your conquest?" Tears welled, thick and hot, spilling over Dante’s lower lashes, tracing gleaming paths down his ash-smudged cheeks. He didn’t wipe them away. The raw, shattered heartbreak etched onto his face was terrifying. "You fucking broke me, Dabi."
Dabi froze, his own anger evaporating under the sheer, unexpected torrent of Dante’s pain. His mouth opened, then closed. Words died before they formed. He stared, stunned, at the tears, at the profound hurt radiating from the being who’d torn angels apart hours ago. Dante saw the paralysis, the dawning horror in Dabi’s blue eyes. He stepped impossibly closer, their chests almost touching, his breath hot and unsteady against Dabi’s face. The scent of bourbon, ozone, and salt filled the scant space between them.
"Was it just sex?" Dante whispered, the question a blade twisting in his own gut. His voice trembled. "All those nights… the things I told you… the things I felt… was it just fucking sex for you?" He searched Dabi’s face desperately, needing an answer, fearing it. "Then why?" His voice rose, thick with tears and fury. "Why the fuck did you tell me you loved me?"
Dabi flinched, his throat working soundlessly. He tried to form a syllable, anything, but Dante wasn’t finished. The dam burst completely. "You made me believe it," Dante choked out, the words pouring forth like poison. "You made me lower every fucking wall. You crawled inside my head, my heart… places no one’s been for fucking centuries!" His hand shot out, not to strike, but to press hard against his own chest, over the intricate tattoos covering his heart. "You got me to talk about things… things buried so deep I thought they’d turned to fucking stone!" The admission was ripped from him, agonizing. "Shit I never told anyone."
The realization slammed into Dabi like a physical blow. He saw it then – the depth of his betrayal, not just of trust, but of the profound vulnerability Dante had offered him. Shame, thick and suffocating, flooded him, hotter than any flame he could conjure. Regret twisted his gut into knots. He looked away, unable to bear the devastation in Dante’s golden eyes.
Dante leaned in, his tear-streaked face inches from Dabi’s. He didn’t hide the raw agony anymore. "Fuck you," Dante breathed, the words thick with tears and venom. "Fuck you for making me feel like this." His voice broke completely. "Fuck you for making me fall in love with you." He swallowed hard, a sob catching in his throat. "And fuck you… for getting me to open up… about shit in my fucking past… I kept buried." He drew a shuddering breath, the final words a low, trembling snarl filled with utter desolation. "And especially fuck you… for fucking lying to me… about loving me too."
The air crackled. Dabi opened his mouth, a choked sound escaping him – apology, explanation, something – but it was too late.
Dante vanished.
No shimmer, no fade, no dramatic puff of smoke. One heartbeat he was there, radiating heartbreak and fury, tears glistening on his cheeks, his presence filling the oppressive lounge. The next heartbeat, he was simply… gone. Utterly absent. The space where he stood was empty. The oppressive weight of his power, his pain, his very existence, vanished with him.
Silence crashed down, absolute and deafening. The velvet curtains hung still. The candle flames burned steady again, casting long, lonely shadows. The scent of bourbon and ozone lingered faintly, already fading. Dabi stood alone in the crimson gloom, staring at the empty space where Dante had been. The echo of Dante’s final, broken words – fuck you for lying – reverberated in the sudden, crushing void. Nothing. Fucking nothing. He was just gone.
He was just gone.
The emptiness where Dante had stood hit Dabi like a physical blow, sucking the air from his lungs. The lingering scent of bourbon and ozone was already thinning, dissolving into the velvet-scented gloom. Silence, thick and suffocating, pressed in from the crimson walls.
Dabi took one step back. Then his knees buckled. He hit the plush carpet hard, the impact jarring up his spine. The shock of Dante’s disappearance, the brutal truth of his own actions, the raw devastation on Dante’s face – it all crashed over him at once, a tidal wave of shame and remorse.
A hot, unfamiliar prickling stung his eyes. He blinked, confused. Wetness? He hadn't cried since the fire, since his skin became scar tissue and pain. But now, the dam broke. Fat, hot tears welled, blurring the dark velvet and flickering candlelight. They spilled over, tracking through the grime and dried blood on his cheeks, falling onto his clenched fists in his lap. He couldn’t stop them. They kept coming, silent at first, then hitching into ragged, ugly sobs that shook his shoulders.
He curled in on himself, making himself small, wishing he could disappear into the carpet fibers. Don't see me. Don't talk to me. Just leave me here to rot.
The heavy velvet curtain rustled. "Dante? You in here?" Sapphire’s voice cut through the oppressive quiet. Her footsteps faltered as she entered. "Dabi?"
He flinched, turning his face away, pressing his forehead against his knees. His silent plea was useless. He heard the soft whisper of fabric as she crouched beside him on the plush carpet. "Dabi? Hey. What happened?" Her voice was low, genuine concern replacing its usual sardonic edge.
He couldn’t answer immediately. His throat was clenched tight, choked with tears and self-loathing. He tried to pull himself together, to swallow it down, but a fresh sob wracked him. "I-I fucked up," he managed, the words thick and wet. "Real bad." He wiped furiously at his face with the back of his hand, smearing tears and ash.
Sapphire stayed quiet, just waiting. "What do you mean, fucked up?" she asked softly. "Talk to me."
"You're gonna hate me," he whispered, his voice barely audible. He couldn't look at her. "Definitely hate me for this."
Sapphire let out a soft sigh. "Dabi, it takes a lot to make me hate someone. Like, apocalypse-level betrayal. I might get pissed as hell at you, but hate? Nah." Her hand rested gently, firmly, on his shoulder. "What did you do?"
Her unexpected kindness was the final crack. The breakdown surged harder, uncontrollable now. He gasped for air between sobs. "After… after him and me… at the bar." He shuddered. "He fucked me… god, so hard… told me he loved me." He swallowed thickly. "I said it back. I meant it." The shame burned. "But then… I got shitfaced. Blind fucking drunk." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I slept with Hawks."
Sapphire’s hand tightened slightly on his shoulder. "Oh. Shit."
"Dante found out," Dabi choked out, the tears falling faster. "Don't know how. Didn't know 'til… 'til I came to talk to him, just now. And Sukuna… Sukuna fucked him." He dragged in a shuddering breath. "Sukuna confronted me. Said it was my fault." He paused, the truth a bitter pill. "It is my fault."
He dropped his head lower. "And then… just now." His voice broke completely. "I came in here pissed… asked him why he fucked Sukuna. He… he lost it, Sapphire." Dabi’s shoulders shook violently. "The look on his face… like I’d gutted him. He told me… told me he loved me… told me he opened up to me… about things he never told anyone… centuries, Sapphire…" The memory of Dante’s tears was seared into his mind. "He was crying. Crying. And I… I just stood there. Couldn't say a fucking word. Nothing. Like a fucking useless piece of shit."
Dabi let out a ragged, broken sound. "He said… 'Fuck you for fucking basically everything.' Then he was just… gone." He looked up finally, meeting Sapphire’s wide, stunned eyes, his own blue irises swimming in tears and utter desolation. "Vanished. Poof."
Sapphire stared at him for a long moment, absorbing the raw, ugly truth. Her expression shifted from shock to grim understanding. "Well," she breathed, the word heavy. "Fucking goddamn." Her hand, still on his shoulder, gave a small, reassuring squeeze. She shifted, settling more comfortably on the floor beside him.
"Listen," she said, her voice firm but surprisingly gentle. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Dabi. You fucked up. Monumentally. Like, epic-level, relationship-ending fuck-up." She paused, letting that sink in. "But… it's not unsavable."
He blinked, tears still spilling, a spark of desperate, pathetic hope flickering through the wreckage. "It… it isn't?"
"No," Sapphire said, shaking her head slowly. "He loves you. That much was screaming off him, even through the rage. That kind of hurt? Comes from caring way too fucking much." She met his gaze. "It'll be hard. Brutally hard. He’s proud, stubborn, and you just ripped his heart out and stomped on it while wearing Hawks’ fucking scent." She saw him flinch but pressed on. "But savable? Yeah. Very possible. He just needs time. Time to cool the fuck down, stop seeing red, and… well, process the fact that his Firstborn Prince of Hell ass actually cried."
Dabi let out another choked sob, a mix of relief and crushing guilt. Sapphire tugged gently on his shoulder. "C'mere." Hesitantly, awkwardly, Dabi turned into her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling his head down onto her shoulder. He stiffened for a second, unused to comfort, unused to touch that wasn't violence or lust. Then he collapsed against her, the dam breaking fully. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his body wracked with harsh, shuddering sobs, years of unshed tears finally pouring out.
Sapphire held him tightly, one hand rubbing slow circles on his back, the other cradling the back of his head. The Inferno Club's distant throb felt worlds away. "It'll be okay," she murmured into his hair, the words a quiet promise against the storm of his grief. "Not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But it'll be okay." She rested her cheek against the top of his head, holding him as he finally, truly broke. "I'll go talk to him. Later. When he’s resurfaced. Won't say we talked. Just… feel him out. See how deep the damage is." She tightened her hold slightly. "Breathe, Dabi. Just breathe."