He's glad that Bakugo isn't here with him now. It's probably worrisome that he's buying more pills and it's been less than a week. Shouto knows he's fine, but looking from the outside in, he can see why someone might be concerned.

Instead, Aizawa came with him. He needs a coffee and didn't want to make his own. He likes the dark roast here.

They split up upon entering the threshold, Aizawa off to the coffee stations and Shouto off to the medicinal aisle. Shouto looks over the chapsticks before anything else. He picks out a strawberry one, so he can get a bow from Yaoyorozu and call it a gift. He doesn't know Natsu enough to pick anything out just yet.

He picks up a bottle of ibuprofen, and as he stands in line, he picks at the blue label. The cashier nods to him, some sort of show of respect, he guesses. Shouto nods back.

He stuffs the product into his pocket before Aizawa can say anything or see. It's just a precaution. The people he knows are way too overprotective.

They walk out together, hands all stuffed into their pockets besides Aizawa's one, to hold his coffee. It's a snowy morning, the temperature is a bone-chilling cold that's not pleasant in the least. Even Shouto finds himself feeling the coolness of snow.

"Hey, kiddo," he prompts Shouto to look his way. "Do you and your mom talk over the phone?"

Shouto wishes that were a reality. "No, she's still technically hospitalized, even if she's better. It's their policy to keep patients away from media and so a phone is a risk they can't afford to take."

Aizawa hums, "Bet that's inconvenient. You barely get to see her, nonetheless talk to her."

Shouto allows himself a small smile, looking down as his sneakers crunch through layers of snow. "It's true that I'd like more time with her, since I didn't start seeing her until recently. But we still write to each other." He looks to the sky, clouds covering the surface of it and making the entire atmosphere appear white. White on the rooftops, on the clouds, white on the ground and piled up on cars. "Her letters are like really good novels that I can read over and over again."

"Well, you're quite the optimist, today. Something happen to make you this happy?"

Shouto shakes his head. He feels nauseous, that headache is still pestering him, just like his sister, and his father is texting him nonstop despite being muted.

"Coulda fooled me," Aizawa voices, sipping his coffee and flinching away when it turns out to be too hot.

Shouto remembers when he used to love the snow just to spite Endeavor. Endeavor is fire, has always been fire. A never-ending flame that Shouto tended to unwillingly, just by existing and enduring.

Snow is still special to him, in some ways. It reminds him of his mother, of the good parts he can remember of his time spent with her, before the incident. It reminds him of looking out in the courtyard and seeing Touya, playing with Fuyumi and Natsuo. They seemed so untouchable, that trio. A goal he would never reach. Endeavor was the barrier.

A third of that goal has been taken away from him, but he guesses he beat Endeavor there. He can talk with Fuyumi and Natsuo and see them whenever he wants. The same with mom.

Endeavor still controls him. He's left directions etched into Shouto's brain, directions to perfection. Shouto doesn't believe he's perfect. A lot of others do. Like some of the girls, Kirishima and Kaminari. They're wrong. Perfect doesn't even begin to describe Shouto. He's on the opposite end, of that spectrum.

"Todoroki," Aizawa calls, and when did they make it back to the dorms? "Remember you can come talk to me whenever. You're pretty good at timing it out to when I'm not sleeping, anyways."

Shouto feels lighter at this, and so he nods, "Thanks."

Most of the boys are in the common room when he enters, all surrounding the TV as two video game characters fight on a wooden ship. Bakugo's handling a controller, one that looks like it's about to crumble with the force of his movements. Midoriya is his opponent, green eyes focused and movements unsure and slow.

"Hey, Roki!" Sero waves, and it prompts Kirishima to look over, too.

"Hey! You should get in on some of this, later! See if you're as good at games as you are at real fights."

Shouto doubts it. He's never touched a controller in his life.

He doesn't say this, just nods his head and passes by them to the hall. On his way up to his room, he feels eyes on his back, green and expecting.

He shuts his door tight and turns on the light. He's still nauseous. It'll go away with the painkillers and some water. He can't remember eating breakfast, but that's fine. He has a breakfast bar around his room, somewhere.

Shouto scrolls through his phone for a bit. He likes to see how the world is beyond what he can grasp. What lies beyond UA, heroism. It's how he knew about concerts in the first place. It's how he's able to keep up with Ashido's gossip on social media.

He guesses he should probably text Fuyumi, while it's on his mind. He can ask her what Natsuo might like, too. That way it won't seem like he's favoriting one sibling over the other.

Fuyumi had mentioned before that she's on break, so it shouldn't take long to get a response.

He doesn't know why, but he just can't resent her. He knows what she does isn't particularly good, trying to bring something together that just isn't meant to be. It's stressing the rest of the family out. Shouto can see it in Endeavor, too. He wants to do this his own way, Fuyumi's doing too much.

Shouto makes a note to pick up fruit candies. Even if it's after Christmas, he wants Natsuo and Fuyumi to know he appreciates them more than he shows.

He leaves it at that. Shutting off his phone, he wonders what he can get for his mom. Maybe... a mug. If they have those. Or he'll ask Yaoyorozu to help him, at least this once. He'll buy her food.

A knock at his door startles him. He's been at the dorms so long, he no longer has to listen to footsteps as they approach him. Because father isn't here, and father is changing. Nobody greets him with malice anymore.

It's Midoriya, and Shouto's headache tells him to shut the door in his face and go to sleep.

"Did you need something?"

Midoriya smiles, as softly and as reassuringly as smiles get. "Hey, Todoroki. We haven't really hung out in a while, wanna?"

Shouto knows this is about Midoriya wanting to talk. He also knows that Midoriya is a force nobody can ignore: not even Bakugo in all of his boarheaded-ness.

He nods.

A quick walk to the balcony, wrappers drinking in Midoriya's sweatpants pockets the whole way, and they're sitting together, looking out at the overwhelmingly white city.

"Todoroki, are you okay?"

It's oddly tranquil, from the rich whitish grey of the sky, to the crisp freshness of the cold winter air.

"You asked me that before," Shouto recalls, leaning forward against the railing. "I'm not sick, if that's what you're worried about."

"Todoroki," Midoriya stands next to him, his height not yet reaching Shouto's. "You just seem different lately. And you're my friend so I don't want to just ignore it."

"Different how," he questions, and Midoriya pauses.

"... Like you're not even trying anymore." Shouto's eyes widen. "And like you're trying more than you've ever tried in your life. It's like one day you're sick and terrified and the next you're calm and going to the store with Uraraka. And then you leave, and Kachaan says you guys talked before, too... it's confusing."

Shouto holds back a scoff, "Not everything is something to be analyzed, Midoriya. I'm fine. Winters have always been hard for me, and I'm just getting my bearings with all these new traditions and activities."

Midoriya sighs, exhaling out all of his worries, just to breathe them back in again. "If you say so, Todoroki. But I mean it when I say you can talk to me. And he didn't say it directly, but Kachaan will help you out whenever you need, too. Just... don't do anything you'll regret, okay?"

Shouto wonders what he's on about. Regrets and talking... he's looking way too far into this.

"Midoriya," he says gently. "You worry too much."

"I know," he says firmly, "But it's better than letting my friends suffer alone when I could've done something." He leans against the rail, sliding something across the surface. "I know you didn't eat breakfast today, so at least eat this."

Shouto looks down to the wrapped food, an All Might themed breakfast bar. "This is... tacky."

Midoriya turns red, a shock from the white surrounding them. "Uh... Yea, but my mom used to buy them for me when I was little, so it's kind of nostalgic for me."

"I'm not judging. Admiring, really," he admits, unwrapping his bar with a little struggle.

"Admiring?"

Shouto nods, taking a bite. His jaw hurts with his thick the bad is, little pats aria king to his teeth. "I never got to eat stuff like this, growing up. And anything surrounding All Might was burned."

Midoriya hums, taking a bite of his own bar. "Your dad would hate my house, then." He swallows. "How come you didn't get to eat stuff like this, though. It's not like it's super unhealthy."

Shouto looks down to the courtyard below. "When you're created to be perfect, you don't get a choice in what you do. You don't get a say in what you eat, or do, or when you train or sleep." He bites out of the bar again, the sweet taste is revolting in a way that tastes addicting. "You kind of just exist, and you deal with whatever is thrown your way."

Midoriya frowns, "I'm sorry, Todoroki. That's no way to live, especially as a kid."

"It's over now," he says, balling the wrapper up in his hand. "And I didn't come out of it perfect, so it was all for nothing."

There are no lies he can find in a statement so true. Endeavor, even after his apparent transformation, would probably still agree.

"Well, I don't think being perfect matters," Midoriya voices, his energy bright and heroic, it's refreshing to be in the presence of someone so pure. "A lot of people say being strong is perfect and being beautiful is perfect, stuff like that. And... it's really dumb."

Shouto looks to Midoriya, studying the way he looks off to where the sun is peeking through the clouds. He's bright, so bright. In all of the best ways.

"I mean... if perfection is beauty, where do you find beauty in an imperfect world?"

'Here', Shouto thinks. Here, with snow under their slippers, and goosebumps on their arms, and tacky All Might snacks.

And Shouto is right about himself. He cannot be perfect. Because Midoriya is perfect, and he is nothing like Midoriya.