I'll Have a Blue Christmas (As Long As You're Here With Me)

Disappointing, Isn't It?

He didn't know where he was. His lungs felt like they were on fire and he didn't know if it was his quirk or something else. The air smelt stale and old, smoky too.

So maybe there was a fire.

His instincts told him to find out where it was and fight it. Save everyone and be the hero.

His brain asked him again, would it be so horrible to let yourself burn alive?

So he did nothing. He didn't even bother to see if opening his eyes was a possibility. The surface underneath him felt familiar, soft and low to the ground- his futon. His hand was hung over the edge of it and he was sure the sheets were twisted and tangled between his legs, half off of the futon and spread across the floor.

His shoulder didn't hurt anymore. It felt- it didn't feel anything. He wasn't sure if it was even there anymore. He reached over and touched it, feeling the bandaging with his right hand, but he didn't feel anything on his shoulder. He checked to make sure he was actually touching the limb, opening his eyes to
grey light coming from the window, boring and depressing.

He was home, and that was his shoulder he was touching but didn't feel.

"Finally," a voice from the door said. "You're awake."

Those heavy footsteps he'd grown used to came closer, and a wet rag was tossed on his face. It was cold and unrelenting and it didn't help this situation at all.

Endeavor stared down at him with malice. "Running away like that. It's like you want the world to know how weak you are. Is that what you want?"

Shouto couldn't open his mouth. His jaw felt too weak and too unstable to do that. In lieu of a voice, he shook his head, knowing that no answer would have him beat worse than whatever was coming.

"What were you thinking? Spending an entire day out and eating junk. How dare you go off of your meal plan. Then I bring you home to find that you haven't eaten any of the meals. And that stupid boy trying to make me let you stay..."

"How did you find me?" He huffed out, ribs hurting more than he remembers them, and voice hoarse from disuse.

"You think I wouldn't plant a tracker on my masterpiece when he gets lazy and defiant?" Shouto winced when a finger pressed into his neck and burned, digging into a bruise. "I knew you were gone, and at first I told myself as long as it was less than an hour I'd allow it."

Another finger pressed into his neck, and he realized it was Enji's hand slowly wrapping itself around his throat. "An entire night, Shouto. You were gone all day and not only that- you let an intruder into my home. What stories will you make up this time, hm? Maybe just say you were being stupid and take the punishment like you always do? Like you were made to do."

He was squeezing the appendage now, Shouto's throat trying to open and let air through, a wheezing sound coming from within. He forced his hands to meet his father's and pulled on them, trying to release the strong grip on his neck.

Enji finally let go when Todoroki started to go limp, but didn't let his son rest yet.

He grabbed him by the hair and dragged him along into the dojo. There was no fighting in the world Shouto could do to get away. He was completely and utterly trapped, waiting for the first hit to land and for the darkness to start pulling at his brain already.

But it wasn't happening. For some reason, he was completely here and aware. And he begged internally to just be pulled away into whatever reality his mind had made to survive this.

"You deserve this, remember that. Every child gets punished for bad actions."

Right. That's right. He deserved this. This wasn't