(A/N: This is an interactive fic, see the notes at the end to see how you can play along)
Content Warnings: mental illness, mentions of psychological/emotional abuse (because Endeavor), very minor passive suicidal thoughts
Shouto is already awake, has been for hours, when he hears the sound of keys jingling in the hall outside his apartment. He rolls over on his futon and pulls his comforter tighter around his shoulders at the familiar click of his deadbolt being unlocked.
Fuyumi's soft footsteps rustle on the tatami as she toes off her shoes and moves across the room to open the curtains. Bright afternoon light fills his room and white spots pepper Shouto's vision as he groans and ducks his head under his blanket.
"Shouto," his sister scolds, but the lump on the futon that sits in the corner of his modest studio doesn't budge. Fuyumi sighs, "you didn't move out so you could lay in bed all day."
A fist pounds on the inside of Shouto's skull, his mouth is sticky and dry, and, when he opens it to speak, a wheeze escapes. After a cough and a few raspy breaths, he's finally able to will his unpracticed voice to work, "I'm doing the internship, what more do you want?" There's an edge to the words as they trip off his tongue in his usual monotone. He flinches a little at Fuyumi's gasp, and scoots over on instinct when he feels the futon shift under his sister's weight as she sits down and tugs the comforter off his face.
"You know I'm not just talking about the internship, don't be rude." Finally, Shouto rolls over and meets Fuyumi's gaze, her brow knitted in frustration as she watches him reach for the pack of cigarettes and lighter on the floor in front of him before sitting up and facing his sister. He shakes the pack before pulling out a smoke. Only three left, he notes, he'll have to go to the store today, after all.
As soon as it's lit, Fuyumi is pulling the cigarette from his lips and snubbing it out with a huff.
"I hate it when you do that."
There's ice in Shouto's eyes when he glares back, "I left to avoid the nagging."
He doesn't miss the hurt in Fuyumi's gaze, and struggles to swallow over the lump that grows in his throat. He knows he's being unfair, he can count the number of people who care about him on one finger, and is apparently dead set on reducing it to zero. His gaze falls somewhere to the right, as he manages an awkward apology, "Shit, sorry Fuyu."
"I just want you to be happy and healthy, Shou." Fuyumi's voice is quiet as she wrings her hands in her lap, "and maybe make it to lunch when you say you will."
Shouto squints in confusion, "That was today? I could've sworn we made plans for Friday."
"It is Friday." Fuyumi deadpans. Shouto's face falls at the information. He's sure yesterday was Wednesday. He grabs his phone from the box he uses as a makeshift nightstand and the screen proves Fuyumi right.
He's far away as he wracks his brain for Thursday, but the last thing he remembers is drinking a six-pack after his internship and then waking up at ten that morning.
What happened to Thursday? Had he slept right through it?
Fuyumi's concern is evident in the slight downturn of her lips and the crease in her brow. Shouto hates it and does his best to ignore the faint itch of embarrassment that bubbles under his skin. His wandering gaze lands on the ashtray on the floor and gets stuck there.
"Look Shouto, I know you agreed to the internship so you could move out, but I was hoping you'd use it as an opportunity, not an excuse to stay in bed until 3pm." The lilt of Fuyumi's voice is gentle as a lullaby, but the words still sting.
Honestly, Shouto doesn't know what to do. He's never really had friends or hobbies. Besides, he doesn't really care much about anything, and mostly never has, so his face is blank as he looks her in the eye and let's the first excuse that comes to mind out, "I happen to like my bed."
Fuyumi throws up her arms and groans in frustration, "everyone likes their bed! It's not a good reason to never leave your house!"
"I do leave my house…"
"Crawling to the corner store for cigarettes and beer does not count." Her arms cross over her chest and Shouto opens his mouth to respond, but he doesn't have a chance to before Fuyumi cuts him off, "and I know you're only interning Monday to Wednesday right now, which doesn't count either because I also know you're miserable there."
Fuyumi's gaze is pointed as she stares at Shouto, challenging him to argue.
So he crosses his own arms to mirror her and meets her eyes with defiance.
With a frown, she sighs and pats Shouto's knee. "I just wish you'd try a little harder. Get a job! Make some friends! I worry about you alone all the time."
His expression softens at that, he hates that she worries about him, though he knows she always has. Any excuse he was about to make dies on his tongue.
Fuyumi stands, a sad smile planting itself on her lips, "I have papers to grade, I'll text you about rescheduling lunch."
Shouto watches as Fuyumi gathers her things and steps in her shoes. Before walking out the door, she turns back to him, a spark of determination lighting up the wobbly upturn of her mouth, "just think about it okay?"
Then, she's gone, and Shouto is left staring at the door.
His life at home had been on a rigid schedule, honor classes, private lessons, piano, internships, his father wouldn't settle for second best and he pushed Shouto hard to follow in his footsteps.
The groan that escapes as he reaches for the cigarette Fuyumi had put out is heavy.
Don't I deserve a break? he thinks as he lights it and relishes the way the smoke fills his lungs even as it burns his throat.
Still, the weight of the downturn of Fuyumi's pathetic attempt at a smile haunts him and leaves him with a guilty pit in his stomach.
Okay, he'll think about it.
It's not long before he's finished off the pack. He has a bad habit of chain-smoking when he's feeling particularly frustrated and he growls at the empty box in his hand.
He stumbles a little as he crawls off his futon and pulls on the crumpled sweatpants he'd shoved off the night before -or was it two nights ago?-.
The deep bags under his eyes catch his attention in the bathroom mirror and he scowls as he straightens the part in his messy red hair.
With a final sigh, he shoves his feet into his shoes and heads out the door.
The market that Shouto frequents is only a couple of blocks away, but his studio is located on a busy main street, crowded with cafes and shops. Shouto avoids leaving as much as possible, hates the crowds that gather and fill the neighborhood with mindless chatter.
Shouto's never really felt comfortable in casual social settings, he has an overbearing father and his own chronic apathy to blame for that. Enji's always discouraged him from making friends, claiming they would only serve as a distraction from his mandatory studies. Shouto isn't sure if he's ever agreed with the sentiment, but it doesn't matter either way because he's never managed to make any friends, not meaningful ones, at least.
Not even when he'd finally convinced Enji to let him go to public school. He didn't do it because he was lonely, he isn't sure if he was, really, but because it offered him a few precious hours away from his father's angry gaze and constant berating. Not to mention the ghostly afterimages his mother's presence had left behind in his childhood home, the ones that turned his blood to ice and kept him awake at night, sick with guilt and regret.
The street is mostly empty as Shouto exits his apartment building. Relief floods his exhale as he takes in the cherry blossoms that litter the sidewalk and glares at the sun as it warms the late spring sky.
His shoulders hunch as he ambles along, lost in his thoughts, trapped by resentment for his father, haunted by a mother he hardly remembers.
It only takes five minutes to get to the store, then another five to grab a six-pack and a carton of smokes. Once outside, he pulls one out, lights it, and relishes the heat in his chest.
He'd smoked his first to piss Enji off, underestimating how addicting the cancer sticks truly are. He shrugs the thought away, doesn't really care that he's sending himself to an early grave.
The gentle breeze ruffles Shouto's unkempt bangs as he drags his feet back to his apartment.
He's a block away from his destination when the sound of laughter from somewhere to his left reaches his ears. He's not sure what makes him glance over, he's always been skilled at tuning out the world around him, but something about the boisterous giggle reminds him of something he doesn't know as faint shades of green tease at the edges of his vision. It fills him with inexplicable comfort and he doesn't even notice the way his eyes sting at the feeling.
He can't see the source of the laughter, but it suddenly doesn't matter as his eyes zone in on the Help Wanted sign propped up in the window of the small cafe in front of him.
His chest floods with something like warmth, and, before he can stop himself, he's reaching for his phone and adding the number to his contacts.
He's still undecided about making friends, but maybe a job would be enough to get Fuyumi off his case.
(That's what he tells himself anyway, but his head is beginning to ache as he searches his memory for the sweet sound of a laugh he's sure he's never heard before.)
Using the butt of his first, he lights another cigarette, before flicking it out and tossing it in the trash can. With a final glance at the small storefront tucked between a bookstore and a post office, Shouto turns and heads home.
(The glare of the sun is shining against the windows, so Shouto couldn't see the person cleaning the glass from the inside, didn't notice when they'd paused their task at the sight of him taking down the cafe's number, and missed the curious green eyes that watched him walk away from Plus Ultra Coffee Company).
What happens next?
1. Midoriya's POV
2. Shouto goes to the cafe to apply for the job
3. Enji makes an appearance
A/N: Okayyyy maybe this is a product of me avoiding my other fic, but at least I'm being productive? (For those of you reading As I Live and Breathe, chapter 7 is coming, I promise).
A little backstory, I found this thing I wrote last fall and like it well enough, but only vaguely remember where it was going. SO, I thought I'd have a little fun and make this fic interactive! I'll post two or three options at the end of each chapter. It's up to you to leave a comment with the one you like best and, after the chapter has been up for three days (or until it has at least one comment, let's be real, nobody might read this), I'll tally up the votes and go with the majority. I'm not planning on having a posting schedule, but I'm going to keep the chapters pretty short, which should make for faster updates. I will also post the winning option, and maybe a small preview, over at my tumblr: wordsandstuffbyme on the day the vote is counted, so follow me there for updates, timelines, and sneak peeks. OKAY thank you for reading this long ass end note, AND clicking on this fic. You're all wonderful, let's have a blast, shall we?