"I was wrong," comes the admission, a truth Shouto isn't sure he's able to handle completely just yet.

Aizawa sits silently, tired eyes prodding at Shouto for elaboration.

Shouto averts his gaze. "My sister lied to me about something regarding my mother's availability." Aizawa's eyebrows pinch together, and so Shouto continues. "There was a potluck at the psychiatric hospital. My sister was supposed to tell me about it and she didn't, not until the day of." Aizawa's look of confusion is nothing if not frustrating.

"She lied to me that I couldn't go to see my mom," he summarizes, folding his arms, gaze set on Aizawa's.

Aizawa only sips from his coffee expectantly, which is not doing much to settle Shouto's nerves.

"Why won't you say anything?"

Aizawa shrugs, "You look like you have more to share."

He's not wrong. Shouto has about a million words to say and none of them are that friendly.

"I guess I really want to know why," he settles with. "My sister could've picked any other day to trap me over at Endeavor's home. Even though I ended up going, in the end, I still missed hours of the event because I didn't know."

"You can blame it on her, you know."

Shouto stays silent.

"You said it was because you didn't know, but that wasn't your fault. Your sister didn't tell you, therefore it's at least partially her fault," he elaborates.

Shouto shakes his head, "I should've asked earlier on. I don't like that she didn't tell me but-"

"But nothing. You can just say that you don't like what she did and that you're angry with her," Aizawa interrupts again, and Shouto doesn't want to be angry with Fuyumi. She went through so much. She's finally getting the dad she wanted, and now she's trying to put together the family she's always wanted. That's okay. She deserves it. Shouto can sacrifice that small bit of pride if it makes her happy.

Except, she's not sacrificing anything in return. She won't even get angry and demand and take what she wants. She's been controlling from the sidelines this whole time.

Mom said not to think too hard about it. Shouto revealed that he hadn't been told and she said just to enjoy the party in the moment. That's all. Just focus on the present.

She could've forgotten. Fuyumi could've just forgotten that she was supposed to tell Shouto.

But then why would she lie?

Maybe she forgot about that, too. Maybe she forgot that mom told her to tell Shouto. Maybe she forgot that it wasn't just the nurses and patients allowed to attend.

Anyways, it's just a party. It doesn't matter that much.

"I saw my dad," Shouto avoids Aizawa's wanted confession. "He apologized to me in person, this time."

Aizawa straightens, "Are you okay?"

A nod, because he's fine. He didn't get hit.

Actually, his own personal hero came to save him and take him out for ramen.

"My brother got me out of there," he says, a small smile playing at his lips. "We ate ramen in his car."

"Instant?"

Shouto throws a blank look to Aizawa, "Why does it matter?"

Aizawa smirks, "Because I'd like to know?"

Shouto stares for a moment too long, before giving the most confused expression he can muster. "No, he took me to a local shop."

Aizawa pulls out a pen from his office cup, while sliding a sticky note pad over. Clicking the pen, "Got a name?"

Shouto tilts his head, "No, I didn't look... what are you doing?"

"Gotta eat somewhere, kiddo," Aizawa smiles a slightly less creepy smile than he does in class, but Shouto sees the genuineness it holds.

"Okay," he says, a skeptical tone.

Aizawa turns serious again, "So your dad, what'd he do?"

Shouto looks to the ceiling, "I said something rude to him and he just stood there and took it. He apologized for beating on me when I was little, said he shouldn't have."

Aizawa nods, "And that's good? Bad?"

"Not good," Shouto says, "I don't know what to do. It feels like I can't keep hating him forever."

...

"Do you want to keep hating him forever?"

Shouto wonders the same thing.

He thinks about that question during dinner at the dorms. It's late and some people aren't even there, so nobody talks to him.

Does he want to keep hating his father?

Of course not.

Maybe.

Shouto blasts his fire at Bakugo when they train in Ground Beta. It reaches the boy's suit and singes the hems, which brings an onslaught of cursing and explosions Shouto's way.

Shouto throws up a wall of ice to block the attack, a stupid move since they've all seen how Bakugo's explosions destroy Shouto's ice.

(Does Shouto actually hate Endeavor?)

"Oi! You good?"

Shouto's just now realizing he's covered in rubble, laid on his back on the ground. Bakugo's explosion must've toppled over one of Ground Beta's buildings. Shouto wasn't fast enough to dodge. He really should've been. Does he hate Endeavor?

Shouto maneuvers his left hand out of the rubble and puts a thumb up in lieu of a voice. It's with this confirmation, that Bakugo starts cursing and digging him out.

"What the hell were you thinking," Bakugo scolds, throwing a piece of rubble aside. Shouto can only hear him, can hardly see through the dusty rays of light peeking in through the pieces of drywall and cement.

The rubble on his face finally moves, and his cheek is no longer pinned to the ground. A few more pieces moved, and Shouto is able to take Bakugo's hand to get pulled up.

"Thanks."

Bakugo releases the grip he has on Shouto's hand, "Yea, whatever. Teachers would've expelled me if I just let you die in there." He looks out at the destruction he created. "Think I'm gonna call it for today."

Shouto nods, "Bye."

Bakugo's eye twitches, "What the hell do you mean, 'bye?' You're coming with me!"

Shouto shakes his head, "I need to train my fire output. I'll come back to the dorms later."

"Tch, training your quirk when it's at its weakest?"

Shouto tilts his head, "Lots of pros do the same."

"It was a compliment! Bastard," he storms away, growling and mumbling about whatever.

Shouto doesn't understand Bakugo's brand of complimenting.

It was a watershed of emotions the first time he realized what fire could really do out there. Father always kept it under control. The training room was fireproof, so the rest of the house was always safe.

Shouto was seven, the first time he lost control of his quirk. As serious as that sounds, it was small. Shouto had been drinking tea and it'd turned cold. It was also the first time he'd used his quirk for something conventional. Something normal people use their quirks for.

Heating up the tea, Shouto focused hard. The mug was hot in his right hand and so he set it on the soapstone countertop. His left hand remained wrapped around it, quirk slowly heating up.

Shouto remembers all too clearly how angry father had yelled. He's still not sure what father was angry about, at the time. Maybe work or maybe his messed up family. Either way, the shout jolted Shouto, and flame shot out from his left hand and onto the paper wall.

He knew, then, that this time would be an even worse punishment than he'd ever received before.

Blasting fire near one of Ground Beta's buildings, he watches it go up in flames, the same as the door that day. Then he spreads ice through the blaze, stopping the spread of destruction and heat.

"What were you thinking?! Were you trying to kill the rest of us?!"

He can remember his indifference to it all. By then, mom had left. Shouto couldn't see from his left eye and father was more intense than ever.

In short, nothing mattered anymore.

Even now, nothing matters.

Breathe in...

...Breathe out.

Fire.

Another part of the building goes up in flames, sending frustration to his brow and calling on his ice to delete his previous work. He wants to blast the fire forward, through the street. Not at the buildings. He will never have to do that, if he's lucky.

His output is strong, which is good. But the shape of his fire needs controlling. He needs to change his stance somehow. Narrow out his hand posture to make a smaller trajectory.

"It's like you can't do anything!" Father's so tall, so demanding.

Shouto swallows, covering his head with hands that are sure to be broken with the blows Endeavor will deal. "I'm sorry. It was an accident." The fire is out now, Father held Shouto's right hand to the area while shouting for him to use his quirk. Shouto wasn't very surprised when he was thrown.

His wrist pops with the force of Endeavor's hand.

Shouto screams, terror and pain mixing to be one hell of a feeling- one he's felt before, over and over and over and over again

That headache grows worse with the heat he's putting out into the world. Flames lick up his shoulder and to his hairline, his costume's best feature working to regulate his temperature.

His brain feels as if it's trying to smash its way through his skull, and so he goes to hold his head. He stumbles, fire weakening in his hand and eventually dying out.

Breathe in...

"I can't take it anymore..."

...Breathe out.

"...he looks just like him."

Shouto falls onto his knees, headache growing even more painful than before. It's pounding at his eyes and pushing tears out of his tear ducts. A groan escapes his throat, soft and hardly audible.

He's fine.

...

Really.

Shouto returns to his room. And because two pills have not been working, he takes three painkillers. It won't hurt him, some people do much worse and turn out fine.

He sits in his room, watching shadows cast by the moon. He likes the way the leaves outside are so clearly themselves in their shadow form. No question of what they could be.

His headache softens with the medicine. For hours, he's suspended in a state of exhaustion just between passed out and awake. He hears walking outside his door. He sees someone stop in front of it, hears incoherent muttering, sees the light return as the person walks away.

The hall light turns off after a while, Iida always comes through to make sure they're turned off. To save energy or something like that.

Shouto yawns more times than he can count, and each movement leaves him more awake than before.

The next time he opens his eyes, he doesn't close them again.

"...boy!"

Momma tenses, Shouto's already beaten her to it. He knows it's bad. He knows father is angry again. It sounds like Natsuo got scolded this time. Crying and incoherently babbling apologies. He hears something slam, before there are footsteps in the hall to the living room.

The archway is occupied by a large figure in a matter of seconds, red hair spiky and dominating as ever. He looks to momma, "Leave."

Momma's shaking, her grip on Shouto's wrist like that of a statue. "Enji... I... I can't let you hurt him anymore. I- I can't."

Father only grunts in annoyance.

"Shouto, come."

Like a dog trained to do his master's bidding, Shouto climbs from his mother's lap, stumbling over to father. It's eerily quiet in the house, Fuyumi must be tending to Natsuo after the bad scolding. His sobs are near-silent, even to Shouto's trained ears.

"Training room, now."

A chill travels down his spine at the demand. There are threats behind each word, and each is sure to come to be by midnight.

Shouto sidesteps Father, peering behind his shoulder at momma. When he was younger, she'd watch him leave with the saddest eyes he's ever seen.

She's learned to look away, now.

Shouto takes a deep breath in, the cold air of the outside world cooling his lungs. It eradicates the nausea of insomnia all too easily.

The stars are bright out. The light pollution of Musutafu leaves the stars in clusters all over the sky. Shouto reminds himself that those things are in space. They seem so close, though. Like small little dots left by white and yellow paint. A few are airplanes, which don't ruin the painting. It adds a realistic touch to the scene.

"Loser."

Shouto startles. He hadn't even heard Bakugo climb up the gutter. But he's sitting on the railing yet again, red eyes expectantly waiting for a response.

"Oh."

Bakugo gives the most exasperated look he can, "Oh? That's it?" He steps down from the railing and slides his back down the half wall, bringing his knees to his chest.

"Did you need something?"

"Let's talk, idiot," he snaps, crossing his arms on his knees and bringing his chin forward to rest his head on them. "If I come up here, and you're also up here, it means I want to talk, got it?"

Shouto remains blank. "Why?"

Bakugo shrugs, "Your problems are way bigger than mine, it's distracting from all the bad stuff."

"Oh."

...

"So you lost your shit in the classroom," Bakugo prompts, avoiding eye contact.

"Yea," Shouto says, turning back to the sky. "I had a bad dream."

"You froze everyone to their seats."

"I know."

"You attacked a teacher."

"...yea."

Bakugo stretches his leg out, kicking Shouto's calf with his socked foot, "Are you injured, then? Old man must've been pissed, right?"

Shouto shakes his head numbly, it's not so shocking for people to know, anymore. Bakugo knows, Midoriya knows, Sensei knows.

"He doesn't beat me anymore."

"Oh."

Shouto leans his chin on the cold metal of the safety rail, accepting the coolness and hating the way his teeth press together.

"I wish he would."

He hears it in the way Bakugo breathes; the shock of a statement that probably shouldn't have been said.

"Why would you want that?"

Shouto turns back around and slides down the half wall, the same as Bakugo. Sitting down and folding his legs. "Cause then I could just hate him again. It would be simple, no other feelings."

"So you don't hate him right now?"

"I don't know."

Bakugo stays silent for a while, leaning the top of his head against the half wall. His neck is uncomfortably bent and his eyes are slowly closing in on themselves, before springing back open.

"You can leave, if you're tired."

"Nah," he rejects, closing his eyes again. "I'm just resting my eyes, IcyHot. Keep talking."

"Bakugo, just go. It's cold out here and you'll get in trouble if you stay out here all night," Shouto stands, reaching for Bakugo's arm, before getting slapped away.

Bakugo stands, stretching his arms high into the sky. "Fine. But only because I'm not gonna sleep on your shitty balcony."

Shouto rolls his eyes, headache returning. "Yea, whatever."

Shouto refuses to let Bakugo climb back down the gutter, not when he's so tired, so he herds him into his room, closing the sliding door softly as to not wake anyone. Bakugo trips over Shouto's futon, but is back to walking immediately afterward.

Shouto feels compelled to follow him out the door, just down a floor and to his room.

The walk down is quiet, Bakugo and Shouto quietly shuffling past all the other rooms and down the stairs, until they finally reach his door. Bakugo opens it in a way that leaves it swinging into the room.

He turns, fixing Shouto with a look of seriousness. "Get some sleep, tonight. I mean it. You look like shit and you've been acting like a maniac lately."

It's his way of caring, Shouto thinks.

He nods.

As Bakugo closes the door, he mutters some more insults that Shouto just convinces himself come from the heart.

Shouto sighs, pivoting on one foot towards the stairs. His head is hurting again, the painkillers aren't working as they should. Maybe he needs something different. He's heard Tylenol and Ibuprofen are similar, maybe Tylenol will be stronger.

He runs into someone, their nose hitting his chest hard and having them recoil. Shouto's hands come up to catch them, but they're already steady.

Midoriya rubs his tired eyes, a yawn in his throat. "Todoroki? Why are you up this late?"

Shouto straightens, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I was walking Bakugo back to his room."

"Oh," he yawns again. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Shouto nods, looking past Midoriya. "We should both probably get to bed now. This isn't either of our floors."

"Todoroki," Midoriya asks, voice careful and low. "Can we talk?"

Shouto knows this is going to turn into a pity party for him. Midoriya will ask questions and be sad about the answers, because the things Shouto's been through aren't normal for nice people like Midoriya, and Sensei and Bakugo. The things Endeavor did to Shouto weren't like what their parents did, and so it's wrong. It's so, so wrong.

He guesses being shoved underwater for problems that weren't even yours, that must be really bad.

Todoroki sidesteps Midoriya, "Sorry, it's really late. Sleep well, Midoriya." And he walks away, calves burning from the walk up.

He closes his door before Midoriya can say anything or catch up to him.

His head hurts, and so he reaches into his desk and pulls out the bottle of ibuprofen. Except, it's red labeled- not blue like the ibuprofen is.

He should probably take the suppressants more often, he thinks. He shakes the bottle, not bothering to read the label, and takes two. That's the standard for most medicines. Afterward, he takes two ibuprofen, dry swallowing and closing both bottles. He needs to get more ibuprofen, soon. He's running out after just three days.

Shouto sleeps well, ignoring the nausea bubbling up in his stomach.