Shouto wonders how that feels. To favorite someone to the point of obsessiveness, just to have them hate you.

Shouto's decided that's how he feels. He hates Endeavor. He hates his stupid red hair and his ugly blue eyes and his terrifying, stomach-clenching voice. He hates that he wants to talk so damn bad and he hates that he's got the world on his side.

Sometimes, he still holds some hope that Endeavor really could change. Maybe Shouto could forgive him then.

But when you see a man, and all you can think of is how hard they hit and how long they burn you before the screams become too much, well, how can you forgive them?

Sensei said he wouldn't forgive him, Shouto doesn't think he should. Fuyumi does. And maybe Fuyumi knows better than Aizawa. She's the closest to Endeavor.

Fuyumi lies. She tells Endeavor about things that Shouto's seen her do, and she never fails to mention that everything is his fault, Shouto did it. Shouto always does it.

Shouto lets her, he stopped caring after a while.

"Todoroki?"

Shouto hums, looking lazily towards Kirishima and the rest of his small group. They've taken to sitting with him when being alone is too much. He never told them to, they just do, and Shouto appreciates it, even if they'll never know.

"Do you think we're going home for winter break? Sensei's never clear about anything he says," Kirishima asks, rubbing his neck nervously.

Shouto shrugs, "I'm not sure. I'd imagine since we haven't had home visits for a while, they'd be escorting at least some of us out."

Ashido raises her hand, "If any of us end up leaving the dorms we should totally FaceTime. That way we can still talk when we train."

"What?" Kaminari's voice is filled with bored surprise and disappointment. "You're seriously gonna train over break? Now I have to," he pouts, bottom lip jutting out from underneath the charger in his mouth. "Can't we all take a chill pill for once?"

Shouto would like to. But he knows that going home, despite Endeavor's supposed transformation, means training in the dojo.

"Nobody said you have to train, Kaminari. We just don't want to lose progress," Ashido flicks a lock of his yellow hair, "Don't be such a baby."

"Am not! I'm just saying that we're still technically kids, why can't we do just one normal thing?"

"Training is our normal, Kami. Anyways, you don't have to. It's not like anyone's making you. Just take it easy if that's what you feel like," Kirishima smiles, supportive as ever. Shouto wishes he could be like Kirishima, however red he is.

Shouto stands, it's getting late and he really shouldn't miss any sleep he can manage. When everyone wishes him a good sleep, he quietly wishes them the same, and he takes the elevator up to the fourth floor.

In his room, the same room he regrets ever making look like his house's interior, he doesn't bother turning the light switch on, just undressing in the dark and doing his best to slide into a tank top in the same lighting. When he's sure the shirt is on -whether it's backward or not is a problem for tomorrow- he slides under the sheets of his futon. It's softer than he remembers, the day's exhaustion catching up to him.

Shouto's quiet most of the time. All of the time. Momma gets hurt when she speaks, so Shouto doesn't. He knows the words but he doesn't know which ones he would say. Which ones are safe or not. He still gets hurt.

He fell, tripped in the doorway on his way to the kitchen. A sob tore itself from his throat and he let it. It's okay to cry, Momma always says. He hopes his cries reach her so they're at least useful.

He hears footsteps, and he wants to smile but his knee hurts still. He can see the scrape from the wood, the redness from his skin being torn. The thought makes him cry even harder.

Shouto stuffs his face in his pillow, shaking his head. That's just a memory. He knows it. He's fifteen and not three. He's not three so

"Shut up. Crying is for the weak. I refuse to have another weak child." Father covers Shouto's mouth hastily, quirk burning at Shouto's skin. He screams harder at the sting of heat, he hears a questioning 'Shouto?' from momma.

"I told you not to cry."

Shouto gasps when father hits him, just like a few weeks ago. He doesn't understand what he's done wrong. It hurts. It hurts so bad.

Father drags him to his office, furious in his journey to a drawer at the top of his desk. "I told you to shut up, if you can't learn now you never will!" There's a roll of tape in his hand, army green and thick. He takes a piece, slapping it on Shouto's mouth. All he can do is emit whines, lips unable to open with the tape on his mouth.

Shouto twists in his sheet, throwing his cover off. It's too hot, suddenly. He hopes he's not making too much noise by moving around. Bakugo's right below him and he'd hate for him to lose sleep over this.

Shouto often wonders what he'd be doing if his father had transformed years ago. Before Shouto learned that trusting Endeavor meant getting hurt. Before Endeavor hurt mom so bad that she was taken away. Before Shouto was taught that the world is against him and his sole job in it all is to step over the world. How can he not? He was born into a set life, his dreams didn't mean anything. He was always meant to come here, to UA. He's going to become a hero, because Endeavor told him so when he was four, and his quirk showed up in its searing hot and numbingly cold power. Shouto thinks he's done well of at least learning to like it. He's even got friends, his first ever.

He bets Endeavor wouldn't expect that. While training Shouto, not raising, because raising was mom's job, he made sure not to allow any social contact. No siblings, no school friends, no neighborhood friends. Just Endeavor and his never-ending flame.

Shouto can't do much to embarrass Endeavor. He can hardly do anything at all without throwing his life away. He's learned to annoy him in smaller ways, making friends, purposefully missing questions on quizzes and exams, and then showing how easy it is for him to get back to the top.

Endeavor hated it. Until he didn't. And he encouraged positivity and friends and mistakes and... he started acting as a parent should. He hasn't raised a hand to Shouto once since he realized his wrongness in their family history.

Shouto almost wishes he'd hit him again. That he'd beat him and that Shouto's feelings could be valid. Then, hating him would be easier, justified. Because if you hate a good man, wouldn't that make you bad?

Shouto must be bad. He didn't visit his own mother for 10 years. He hates the number one hero. He ignores his sister's calls sometimes and he doesn't reach out to his brother. And even after he's offered a loving parent, he can't help but hear whispers of fake undertones. Endeavor wasn't made to be nice.

Maybe Shouto wasn't, either.

Shouto shakes himself out of another flashback again when he hears his phone ringing. He catches the time before answering: it's 2:30 in the morning. Why is Fuyumi calling him?

"Hello?"

"Hiya, Shouto. How was your day?"

Fuyumi lies, but she's always been nice about it. She's never laid a hand on Shouto, she's never yelled at him. She's the perfect sister, not that he's one to judge what perfect is.

"It's been good."

Fuyumi's smile can be heard through the phone, her light, happy tone seems ever uplifting. "That's great! I'm glad you're doing so well in a public school." She pauses, and with hesitance, "So I know you told me about the talk you had with your teacher. You did... tell him, right?"

The last time they spoke, Shouto confided in Fuyumi. He told her that Aizawa knows. She sounded desperate when she told him to take it back, to stop ruining the family.

To stop lying.

"I told him I lied."

Fuyumi sighs, "That's good, you'd want to be truthful to your homeroom teacher. And starting rumors like that isn't nice."

Shouto's blood freezes, "Fuyumi, I didn't really make any of it up. Endeavor did-"

"Oh, Shouto. Just because you guys worked together before doesn't mean you still have to call him by his hero name," her tongue drips acid. Sweet, alluring acid. "Call him 'dad'."

Shouto grips his phone, "I don't... want to do that. And you aren't listening to me. I never made up any story, he really did-"

"Shouto, I'll call your teacher and apologize on your behalf," she interrupts, acting oblivious. "That way you don't get in trouble."

"I already apologized."

"It means more coming from the family, sometimes. I'm a teacher, Shouto, trust me."

Shouto swallows, "I guess.. that makes sense. Do you have his-"

"I'll ask dad, we're going for lunch tomorrow anyway," and there's that way too audible smile. He can picture her bright teeth exposed, lips covered in that strawberry lipgloss she's worn since she was a little kid. "Oh hey, I can ask him to bring you something? What time is your lunch?"

And then Endeavor will ask for Shouto in person, and that's another awkward conversation Shouto would love to avoid.

Shouto's hands fist the sheets, "No. I... I'm gonna go to sleep."

"Oh! Okay, Shouto, sleep well. I'll tell mom you said hi when I see her."

Fuyumi lies, and she pretends. She pretends she doesn't hear Shouto. She pretends like Endeavor never hurt him. She pretends like she never heard Shouto's screams, the way they were muffled by tape and water and a burning, searing hand.

She loves to pretend that their family is perfect, but she knows firsthand how far from that it is.

"Do you have a pencil?"

Shouto reaches into his bag, feeling for the plastic casing of a mechanical pencil. He takes one out, handing it eraser first to Kaminari. The rest of the interaction is wordless, but neither misses the glare Aizawa-Sensei sends their way.

"Today you'll be working in pages 347 to 501. Answer the questions individually and in the last ten minutes of class we'll go over them with partners."

Shouto takes paper out, placing it on his notebook for a smoother surface than the slippery desk, and copies down the title. It's all he can do before his name is called.

"Todoroki, I need to speak to you out in the hall for a minute," Aizawa calls, already halfway out the door. His posture is less slouched than usual, he must be angry. But teachers don't hit students. He can at least count on that.

He stands, ignoring how every last pair of eyes in the class is on him, mumbling about what might have happened that he needs to see Sensei alone about.

When he steps out of the hall, he feels how much cooler it is than the classroom. It's winter, which would explain it. The classroom is heated, the halls are less so, just sheltered from the rain and snow outside.

"Your sister called," Aizawa-Sensei starts, and Shouto forgot that's why he's out here. "She pretty much confirmed that you were lying, apologizing for you and everything." He pauses, a stony glare sent out at the snow outside. "I want to know if she was faking, too."

Shouto hides a clenched fist behind his back, "My sister doesn't lie," he fibs, watching for any change of emotion in Sensei's face. "I'm sorry if she bothered you, though."

Sensei's expression is one Shouto will never be able to decipher. "Okay, I'll believe you for now. I really wanted to ask you about something she told me, about you wanting to go home for Christmas. If you fill out a form, you'll be able to go home for a week, you'll need guardian signatures and permission from Nedzu, and me."

Shouto throat feels drier than it should be. Or maybe it's his mouth that's dry. Both. "She told you I wanted to come home?"

"She said you were excited, even. Since she doesn't lie," he fixes Shouto with a look so exposing, Shouto wants to physically recoil, "I'd assume you were working on getting Endeavor here to sign that?"

"Ah... yes. But... he's a busy man so I'll just stay here and save everyone the hassle." Shouto blinks, and Sensei's eyes have moved off of him and over to the windows again.

"If that's what you want, I'll appreciate not having to deal with Endeavor."

Shouto nods, "Yes, I'd rather stay. My family won't mind."

"In that case," Sensei yawns, stretching his old limbs out and sighing, "Get back in there and take notes. I'm sure Iida will go back a few slides for you."

Shouto bows out of habit, more than respect, not that he doesn't respect Sensei. "Yes, sir."

The questions that come at him on his way back into class are harassing and distracting.

Lunch is worse. Kaminari's only curious, he knows. But added on with Mineta and Ashido and Sero, with a few comments from Sato, it's a lot.

He excuses himself from his table and sits in the bathroom all lunch, head leaned against the stall.

He burns. A small portion of his upper arm exposes itself when he removes his blazer. He burns, and he supposes it's just an excuse.

Maybe it's a silent, unknowing plea of his that the fire one day won't stop. Maybe it will start to glow blue and grow bigger than any forest fire could hope to be. It would consume him like the fire consumed Touya, and he would finally be free of Endeavor. It's a longing to trick himself that all this time, the burns weren't from Endeavor. Shouto burns himself. He has since he was four, the few months before he had his quirk, wasn't Endeavor. He did it because he wanted to. Because fire is good. Fire is not Endeavor and Endeavor didn't do anything wrong.

Maybe he thinks, despite years of knowing that it's not how life works, that if he burns long enough, the world will stop moving so quickly and he might be able to relax for a moment. Maybe his mind will stop reeling all of the time, trying to find its way through life as his body does so easily.

Mostly, he thinks he burns because he's forgotten how to survive. He's forgotten the need of surviving. His body reacts to danger, his brain can't keep up with it. His quirk helps his body, his mind leaves his body, he's gone.

When he comes back, he burns. But, he's still alive. So burning must be good?

The sting of a new burn brings his mind back to his body. It gives him enough of what the real world is like, to actually be able to think, for once. Eventually, if he burns hard and long enough, the patch of dead skin tissue will scab, and Shouto can pick at that. He'll make it bleed over and over again until it becomes so small he forgets about it, and he can make another burn. They leave scars, they always do. But with his, his quirk licks at his should while in use, nobody should be surprised. Nonetheless worried.

When he feels the sting and it becomes too overwhelming, letting thoughts of Endeavor linger in his brain, he stops. He pulls his hand away and his skin sticks to his fingers just slightly, as he's melted it like rubber.

And then he hides it, lets that sting sit there for hours, then days. When it goes away, he'll burn it again to add to the pain.

And if anyone asks, he'll tell them that it's how he remains at the top. Endeavor's perfect little prodigy.