The night has been illuminated with fireworks and the moon is brighter than it has ever been in his life. Shouto loves the balcony, even if he will never get to be outside with the kids downstairs, he loves to watch them play. Loves to watch the way their eyes light up with wonder with each explosion, loves the sounds of their voices as they scream out colors to try and guess which will appear next.

He loves his mom, she always finds time for him, so he doesn't have to be alone. He fears, that if she weren't here, the night would be all too dark.

He watches her, the girl downstairs, with such wonder in his eyes that it prompts his mother to explain. "That's Fuyumi. She's your older sister."

Shouto leans forward, and Rei's hands grab underneath his arms, pulling him back from the edge. "Not too far, Shouto," she warns softly, voice like snow.

Shouto points to them all, "Can I play with them," he asks, childlike wonder invading his desires.

Rei shakes her head and pulls him from the view, into her lap. Her slender hands card through his hair, pulling out knots from earlier's training.

"Maybe, Shouto. Maybe when you're older."

Shouto frowns, "I wanna now, momma."

She leans her chin on his shoulder, cheek providing warmth to his neck. "Not now, Shouto. It's too dangerous."

Shouto leans forward just slightly, once again, looking to where the girl- Fuyumi, he remembers- is passing a ball to a white-haired kid much taller than her. She laughs, and then a boom sounds in the air. She points at the red that bursts into the night sky, mouth open in awe. Her own eyes follow her finger, all the way until she's pointing at Shouto, and she stares back at him.

He isn't sure what he expects, maybe for her to be disgusted like father says everyone will be, once they find out how weak Shouto is. But instead, she smiles, and it's the most surprising thing Shouto's witnessed.

And then she waves, and his heart stops in his chest.

He frantically taps on his mother's shoulder, pointing and babbling for her to look down at Fuyumi, at his sister. When she finally leans forward, Fuyumi sees Rei, too, and she waves even quicker, smile intensifying. Rei gives a gentle wave back, smiling down at her daughter.

He stares at Fuyumi for a bit longer, and when he finally, finally looks away, he sees that his mother is crying, starry tears flooding her vision.

"Shouto, I just want them to be happy like this... all the time."

Shouto nods, and he doesn't know why, but he feels like he should be crying too. He hugs his mother, latching onto her so tightly he might never let go. She squeezes back, gently, because Endeavor says she is weak, and Shouto doesn't care because he knows it's a lie.

"Me too, momma," he says, and no tears slip past. How could he look at someone like Fuyumi (who has stars in her eyes and wonder in her heart and whose smile is so, so bright), and feel sad?

When he awakes, there is a sense of dread sitting heavy in his chest. He can't remember what he did, he does know that he did not feel so sick last night, when he... slept?

He struggles to open his eyes at all, and past the fog in his brain, he hears a beeping, going faster, faster, faster, until someone is whispering, mumbling words of safety into the room and he is okay? At least, according to the voice, he is.

It takes him nearly thirty minutes to really open his eyes and sit up. He is covered in wires and tubes and there is a shallow basin next to his bed, he knows it is for vomiting, but why does he need it? How does anyone know he feels nauseous? Did he tell someone?

Why is Aizawa-Sensei here?

A nurse comes in, setting a portable table over his bed and supplying him with a small plastic cup of ice chips and a Gatorade. She asks him how he feels, and with Aizawa here, he thinks he shouldn't lie. He tells her he feels nauseous, and she tells him to press the button for help, if he needs it.

Aizawa watches him tiredly, as he opens the energy drink and takes it sip by sip, throat sore like he'd eaten chemicals last night. Shouto can't be sure that he didn't, because he has not been told why he is even here, in the first place.

When he finally works up the confidence to ask, throat sore and painfully raw, Aizawa just says, "Rest a little longer, then I'll tell you."

Not the answer he was looking for, but he guesses it's a hint of how bad it was.

He closes his eyes, and for a few more hours, he doesn't sleep, just sits there. He thinks Aizawa fell asleep, if the soft snores coming from him are any indication of slumber. He wonders if Aizawa is actually sleeping, or if he's pretending, waiting for Shouto to slip up so he can scare him.

Except, Aizawa is the most tired person he's met. And he cares for Shouto, not like anyone else in Shouto's life has.

He almost feels bad, getting up after he was told to rest. He's not connected to anything that can't be dragged along with him, and most of the devices are connected to a pole with a saline drip atop it all. He swings his legs over the bed, finding that they are weak and shaky. He considers again, whether he should be up or not. He knows the answer.

Shouto stands weakly, left hand reaching for the pole. He uses it as a sort of cane, as he makes his way over to the small bathroom across the way. He leaves the door open, in case he might fall and need to call out for help, and looks into the mirror. He doesn't look often, but he's glad he did now.

His face has a big, fat bruise, settled in on his left cheek. It's not too bad, just hardly dark enough to be seen. It's bloomed right above the one Endeavor gave him, on his jaw. He wonders if Endeavor gave him the new one, too.

His eyes are almost sunken in with exhaustion, and in a way, he looks like the skeletons they show in biology class. He is paler than he thinks he should be, his scar basking in the spotlight for how red it seems.

His right arm is wrapped in thick gauze and bandages, from the crook of his elbow to the bone in his wrist. He presses two fingers to the middle of it, finding that the pain there has been dulled, probably. It stills stings, though.

The rest of him looks semi-normal. His chin and around the bottom of his lips look slightly inflamed, like a rash beginning to form. His hair is very messy, and he doesn't want to think about how bad he knows he smells right now.

"You just can't listen to anyone, can you?"

Shouto startles, turning and forgetting the state he's in. He nearly collapses, if not for the pole and Aizawa's hand shooting out to stabilize him.

"Sorry," he says, throat scratchy and overworked.

"Just come sit," Aizawa directs, almost begging. "I'll tell you what happened."

He could never quite figure out what he had done. His mother always keeps him at a distance, keeps her own distance. He respects that, keeps her personal space. Shouto never asks more than once to sit with her, or for her to come to his room after training, so he doesn't have to be alone, and so the nights don't seem so dark, every once and a while.

"Can you sit with me, momma?"

Hesitance, and then she swallows dryly. "Maybe." No.

Shouto finds there are a lot of maybes in his life. He tries to rationalize using them. Because maybe his mother is just tired. Maybe she just needs space. Maybe she doesn't want to stay up so late, anymore.

One night, he looks for her. He passes the border into his siblings' wing of the house, hearing his mother's voice. He peers through a cracked sliding door, not making a sound.

"And then the mama rabbit said, 'That is how much I love you! From right here on the ground, to the moon and back twice over.'", she recites, a book held in her hands. Hugging onto her arm, Fuyumi turns the page. Natsuo is sleeping, cuddled up to her. Touya is sleeping on the tatami near them.

"'Well, mommy', the baby rabbit says, 'I love you from right here in the ground, past the moon and the stars...'"

He has always struggled to comprehend her inability to love him, as much as she loves them.

It's news to Shouto, to hear that he overdosed.

Even so, it makes sense.

He does not remember reading any bottle labels. He must've been dosing them wrong, and then mixing lithium with anti-inflammatory drugs? He has no clue what that even means, but it sounds bad. It has to be bad, if it landed him in the hospital.

Aizawa seems a little bit... worried, that Shouto is not freaking out. Shouto thinks that there's nothing to freak out about. He's almost died about a million times.

"Are you okay?"

Shouto shakes his head, face neutral. He doesn't vocalize it, because talking sounds like a chore right now and he is supposed to be resting.

"Todoroki," Aizawa starts, rubbing his neck. "I want to apologize. I knew how things were, you told me how much they bothered you and I guess I tricked myself into thinking that all you needed was someone to talk to. That I... that I helped you."

Shouto shakes his head again, cringing as he opens his mouth to speak. "I didn't... I didn't try to kill myself," he says shortly. Aizawa looks up at him with a pity-laced gaze. "I didn't know how much I was taking."

Aizawa nods, "Still, though. I failed you by letting you go home. I knew your sister didn't have your best interests in mind when she invited you. I still agreed to send you. And you were hesitant, and it seemed more like a sacrifice, you going there... the whole thing is crappy. Just accept my apology, please."

Shouto can only nod, clenching his fists so hard in the bedsheet that his nails dig into his skin through the fabric.

It is in the nature of snow to be cold and merciless. Shouto is usually so evenly split between that unrelenting, numbing cold, and searing heat.

Now, sitting in a hospital bed with the person he thinks might care most about him, next to him, he feels like a snowy day, when the clouds part just enough to let the sun provide warmth to Mother Earth and her creatures. He feels so calm, so restless, so... something. There's still that dread, moving up and down between his stomach and chest. Nausea sitting idly in his stomach, waiting for the okay from his throat to be let through, so he can hurt even more.

He remembers, faintly, the dinner. He remembers being angry, remembers the things Fuyumi told him, what she blamed him for.

The things he told her.

His heart has never been much more than a fragile little thing. It races and claws up to his throat to choke him, back down to his stomach and flips. That nausea is suddenly very prominent, climbing up his esophagus, tasting of Gatorade and feeling as cool as the ice he'd chewed on earlier.

Shouto leans forward, his upper back aching. All he needs to do is point, and Aizawa has brought the basin up to Shouto's chin, as they both wait for the inevitable to take place. It takes minutes for him to finally puke, he closes his eyes so he won't see it, won't see his heart sitting there in the basin, unbeating because Shouto said such horrible, terrible things. And to his sister, of all people.

Aizawa calls a nurse and he gives Shouto more ice chips, telling him to let them sit at his throat and cool the irritation down some. He says he will be back with warm tea for the swelling.

"Okay?"

Shouto shakes his head for the second time that day, in response to the question. "I yelled at my sister."

"I heard something about you two fighting," Aizawa says, leaning back into his chair. "I wasn't there for it, though, and it was in passing that it was revealed to me."

Shouto leans back on his pillow. "I said I hate her."

"Do you?"

Shouto pauses.

"...I don't know."

She lies, and she deceives, and she is a snake. She uses all of that charm and promises of a nice weekend and 'dad won't be there', as bait. Luring in anyone who won't just listen to her.

And Shouto has fallen for it too many times.

"Kid, you can feel bad for saying what you said, and still be upset with her," Aizawa crosses one leg over the other. "And you've every right to hate her."

Shouto leans his head back, letting an acid burp fall from his throat. The fight with Fuyumi feels like a shard of glass in his heart, one that she stabbed in there herself, twisting it and turning it until his heart can only bleed or freeze over.

Except, the fight is not the shard. Fuyumi is the shard. Stabbed into his heart years ago, and over time, it has dulled and become a part of him, become an ache that only serves to pain him, right beside his mother's shard, and his father's shard.

The fight with her was the shattering. The destruction of the shard in a way that will leave scars, and pieces of glass inside of him.

They will lie there, planted by hate and deceit, buried so deep inside of his heart that he could not ever dream of plucking them out.

The fight with Fuyumi feels like being stabbed, but it also feels like he's reached the next level.

Of what, he doesn't know.

At least, there are no secrets between them. Fuyumi thinks Shouto killed their brother, thinks he's the attention whore of the family.

Shouto thinks Fuyumi should stop trying to fix something that was never more than a problem in the first place.

"Kiddo, just remember you've already got people who want to be there for you." Aizawa scratches his neck, a growing look of softness becoming more prominent in those tired eyes. "Besides an entire class of delinquents, you've got me. And I... I was really worried for you, back there. I just want you to be alr-"

A knock sounds at the door, and for a reason Shouto cannot bring himself to understand, both men startle. His guess is that Aizawa realizes how vulnerable he's being.

"I've got that tea, for ya." The nurse steps in, clearly wary of the raw feelings being exposed here. He sets the tea on the side table next to Shouto's left hand, nodding to Aizawa before leaving.

"About time," Aizawa grumbles, and it draws a hoarse laugh from Shouto. Aizawa himself, smiles, and Shouto can't think of anywhere else he'd rather be, right now.

When Natsuo finally sees him, the next day, it is mostly to visit, but also to bring him a change of clothes as he is discharged.

Natsuo hugs him, uncaring of Shouto's injuries or how sore his entire body feels. He squeezes so tightly that Shouto might disappear, or maybe he'll be more grounded than ever.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he says into Shouto's shoulder. He's leaned down at an angle to fully embrace Shouto. "God, that was terrifying. I love you, little bro."

Shouto hugs him back.

In the car, Natsuo explains that the reason he had the migraines was because he was taking painkillers every day. It might've started as a natural stress headache but Shouto turned it into something more.

"No biggie," he says, smiling to the backseat. "Now you know, and you can't make the same mistake twice."

Shouto swallows, guilt flooding his veins.

When they arrive at UA, the sun has already fled from the horizon, casting shadows over the building and its courtyard. Shouto eyes his own shadow. The way it's tilted forward and the way it distorts his image.

"Thanks so much, again," Natsuo says to Aizawa, shaking his head, before patting his back in a casual hug. Weird.

"It's my job," Aizawa responds, returning that hug. "If you need to visit and talk with Todoroki, it's a simple phone call away. Come anytime you need."

Shouto stuffs his hands in his pockets, watching the two interact. He knows what their vagueness is about. An ambulance doesn't just show up at the number one's house without an audience, and without questions from the public. It sounds like they'll let it die down, though.

"Shouto, don't be dumb," Natsuo says, hugging him for the second time today. "Seriously," he whispers, "Can't lose you, too."

Shouto buries his face into Natsuo's sweater. "I won't, I promise."

"Okay." He pulls away, hands on Shouto's shoulders. "Don't worry about the whole Fuyumi thing. Just focus on school and having fun. You don't need her or Endeavor."

A lie, at least the latter is.

Shouto nods, "Will she be okay." He's still angry with her, but that won't erase that he's human.

"She'll be fine. Probably," he sighs, "But don't worry about her, I just told you," Natsuo scolds playfully, stepping towards his car. He waves as Aizawa nudges Shouto in the direction of the dorms.

And as they step inside, he is met with nothing but concern and care, and he wonders why he ever left here in the first place.

"So what happened?"

Midoriya and Bakugo, of course, found time in their busy schedules to come and bother Shouto. He isn't sure if he minds it, or not.

Shouto shrugs, "I was hardly awake for most of it," he admits, looking up to meet Midoriya's eyes. "Sorry."

"Bullshit," Bakugo sits, folding his legs and scooting forward, like he intends to listen to Shouto's story and not let a detail be missed.

Shouto takes a deep breath, thinking to clear his throat but being reminded not to by the sting at the back of his mouth.

"Todoroki, you don't have to tell us if you aren't comfortable," Midoriya says, but he, too, scoots forward. All ears.

He plays with the cut end of the bandage wrapped at his arm. "The day after I went to Endeavor's house, I... had a seizure."

Bakugo's hands fist his jeans and Midoriya very audibly gasps. "Todoroki-"

"Why," Bakugo cuts him off, seriously.

Shouto swallows, throat burning. "Because... because I overdosed on painkillers."

He realizes he could give them all the gory details of the fight with his family. How his father didn't even bother butting in. How Fuyumi told him off, for the first time in her life.

He could tell them how it felt to be dying, how horrifying and dark and liberating it felt. How his heart yearned to stop, so the feeling wouldn't end.

"I didn't know," he says, instead. "I wasn't trying to overdose." Bakugo is stiller than a statue. "I wasn't supposed to be taking suppressants and painkillers together, so-"

"Why... were you taking suppressants?"Midoriya scrubs a hand down his face. "Todoroki... what's been going on, this whole time?"

Bakugo shakes his head, "Fuck... I shouldn't have... I mean... you could've died. All because I told you to take those stupid pills."

Shouto shakes his head. "No," he protests firmly, "If I hadn't wanted to take them, I wouldn't have. This was my fault and even then, it wasn't purposeful."

"But I guilted you. I made you think you needed to-"

"Stop it," he pleads. "Stop blaming yourself. I just... I just made a mistake and I took too much. That's it. It's over now and I'm not taking anything, anymore."

"Fuck," he says in disbelief. "I don't even know what to-"

"You asked me to talk, remember? Let me finish."

Mostly, he doesn't want to give Bakugo a chance to think it through.

"I fought with my sister," he says, because he does not know what else he can. "I said I hate her and I think I wasn't lying."

Midoriya blinks, and Bakugo scoffs. "You think you can get us to skip over the first-"

"Go on," Midoriya urges, leaning forward.