early mornings with her
x
Every third Wednesday of the month, Dabi pulled himself out of bed at seven-thirty in the morning instead of his usual twelve in the afternoon. And instead of applying a fresh bottle of dye to his normally black hair, he spends thirty minutes longer in the shower and scrubs the already fading black dye out of his head, revealing a distorted, greyish-pink color that, while he isn't particularly fond of, gives him a soft sense of familiarity. When he leaves the bathroom, Toga's waiting outside the door, towel and pout in tow. Watching her sharp, yellow eyes glare at him gives him that same sense, and he fights the urge to stick his tongue out at her. He looks at her for a moment, silent and observant, watching her slightly angry expression slowly morph into something more annoyed than mad. "You're up early," he decides to say, falling into the familiarity.
"I have school, Dabi," she answers, and that's where the sense ends. He's looking down at her and doesn't want to block the bathroom any longer to get her worked up, or hide her lotion in the baby's room because she needs it, or lick her favorite pen and it's his now, or stick his tongue out at her because he's only teasing Yumi, calm down. No, he doesn't want to do any of those things anymore and he lets out a sigh and steps out of the way.
"You don't go to school anymore, Himiko," he says before turning to walk away, watching as she entered and stood by the door.
"Go to hell!" she shouts, slamming the door, and bringing that feeling back, though now it was too little and too late for him to relish in it. Still, it bought a small smile to his face and silently he's thankful. Moments pass before he hears the shower running and that's when he walks away, drinking in the small, almost pleasant, reminders of home against his better judgment.
But then he finds himself in his room, staring at himself in the mirror, picking at the patches of wrinkled, purple skin that covers his body. He tears himself from the mirror and throws on a pair of jeans and white t-shirt, adding a grey jacket when he realizes his arms are out and his burnt skin isn't the best thing to have on display today. Then it's back to the mirror, staring at the deep patches of skin under his eyes and jaw, unsatisfied. He takes a pair of dark sunglasses and puts them on with the utmost care, and then glances back at the mirror, seeing that he's hidden his eyes and the surrounding area. There's still the issue of his neck and jaw, but he isn't as concerned with it. It's nothing that he isn't used to, and it's unsightly but so is he—sometimes.
And with that, Dabi leaves out his room and locks his door, to be gone for what he estimated to be no more than a few hours.
x
Riding crowded busses brings back more small feelings for Dabi, and he doesn't hesitate to give up his seat for the schoolgirl with bright blue eyes and glasses, employing the manners instilled in him by his mother. The girl smiled at him and started studying, and then he suddenly found himself looking at a younger Yumi, who always had her nose in a book. It took everything he had to control himself enough so that he wouldn't flip the book out of her hands with a flippant, sarcastic, 'oops'. Instead, he dug one hand deeper into his pockets and let another hold on the railing above his head, closing his eyes. He leaned his head against the wall, not unlike he did when he was in school.
Exhaling, he realized this this was going to be a longer trip than he thought.
He exited the bus a few stops than his intended destination, finding it easier to walk a few blocks than stand and watch The Girl read without reaching out to touch her. She looked like a smart girl; she kept her nose buried in the book the entire ride. Every so often she looked up at him, and he looked back, though she didn't notice underneath his glasses. Dabi didn't want anything from her, but for her to either tell him some lame thing she read from the book or to say some smart, sassy comment, but she didn't do either, preferring to keep her peace. It was slightly incredible to him, how someone could bring some of your memories alive without bringing all of them back.
It was torture.
He didn't notice how his eyes were drawn to every white haired woman on the street, watching them for a moment longer than he needed. If he could sneak a peek at their faces, he would find himself slightly disappointed and their green and brown and red and not blue or grey eyes. Unconsciously, he'd wrinkle his nose and pout, like he was a child and he was not getting his way.
He should visit her.
x
Dabi's nerves gathered themselves together and attacked when he approaches the bright, white building with far too many windows. He almost felt himself sweat when he grabbed the door and pushed it open. The cool rush of air invaded his nose and he would've choked, but he is far too composed to do something so uncool. The staff downstairs are dressed completely in white, with plastic smiled placed on their faces. Without hesitation, he walks to the front desk and asks the lady sitting behind it, "Is Rei Todoroki still on the twelfth floor?" His voice comes out even and cool, and he's thankful because his stomach is twisted into knots that he hasn't felt since he was a child.
She looks at him with narrow eyes and said, mechanically, "Only select people are allowed to see her."
He drops his glasses further down his nose to reveal his eyes, staring down the worker. Her bored expression, softens when she sees he's got the same eyes as him. He lowers his voice to say, "That's not what I asked."
The lady nods her head, "Twelfth floor, first room from the elevator. May I have your name?"
He looks back at her and drops his glasses, "No, you may not." And he walks to the elevator with a large, cocky grin that reminds himself too much of his father, but he doesn't let it stop him from smiling. The elevator is sterile and fast and that makes him queasy, and he steps out of it just as quickly as he got on.
Her door is white and pristine, and Dabi assumes that Enji is paying to get it painted every two weeks to keep appearances up. He doesn't miss the snowflake embellishments in the corners and surrounding a gold nameplate reading TODOROKI R. The whole floor is a little warmer than the rest of the hospital, and little decorations are scattered throughout the hall, feeling more like an apartment building than a hospital.
He pushes the door open swiftly, without knocking, and outwardly cringes, remembering his manners. Still, he walks in bravely and finds R. Todoroki sitting on her bed, staring out the window. She looks at him and a smile breaks out on her pale face, wrinkles forming in the corner of her grey eyes. "Hi, Touya," she says, standing, "I've missed you." Dabi was slightly taken aback at hearing his birth name, but then realized that Touya was the only name she knew him by. Taking off his glasses and putting them on a desk, he wrapped her in a hug, surprised to find how small she was in his arms.
"I missed you too, mom," he says breathing into her white hair. He pulls away from her and looked her up and down, taking her appearance in. He remembered that she was always slim and pale, but she looked a little thicker and her face seemed more colorful. Still, her hair was the same bright, white and trailed past her shoulders and her eyes shined the same way they did when she looked and Yumi and him when they were kids. Aside from the fine lines appearing around her eyes, she doesn't look like she's aged, almost as did she were frozen in time, stuck at thirty forever. "...I really missed you, mom," he breathes.
"I'm sorry, Toy," she says, sitting down on her bed and patting the spot next to her, signaling for him to sit with her. "I jus—"
"It's not your fault," Dabi interrupts, placing his hands on her shoulders, "You did the best you could with us. All of us." He drops his hand and lays his head on her lap, like he did when he was six and Mom and Yumi were the only people who mattered. Rei let her hands entangle themselves in his hair, and she smiled once she found his scalp.
"You're still coloring your hair?" she probes, remembering when his hair was as red as his father's. When he was twelve he bleached it to match her and his siblings, and by the time she went away it was still white. She smiles when she feels him nodding and hears him hum in response.
"It's black now, but my roots come in red. I'll bleach them and then add the black on top," he answers, closing his eyes. Gently, she reaches down and touches his face, first the smooth, pale skin of his eyelids and then she trails down to the rough, burnt patches under his eyes. "I hate my red hair," he adds, nonchalantly.
"You're still my handsome boy," she chirps, bringing a kiss down to his forehead. He smiles at this, and although he wants to swat her away from his forehead like he used to, he lets her, knowing it's been a while since he's got a mom-kiss and it'll be a while before he'll get another. He hopes that it won't be eight years, like it has been, but he can't be sure.
Jokingly, he says, "I'm 25, mom." She abruptly sits up and looks at him in mock disbelief.
"That's impossible," she says, directing his chin to look at her, "because I'm your mother and I'm only 32." He holds her gaze for a moment but then drops it, laughing.
"I must've forgot."
"Are you being good to your sister and brothers?" Dabi pauses for a long moment, looking at his moment, his eyes blank. Everyday, he thinks about Yumi and Natsu, though thoughts of Natsu are few and fleeting and Yumi is always on his mind. He can admit to himself that he misses them, and before he joined Tomura he'd send them packages, but lately he hasn't done anything remotely nice. And Shouto? Normally, Dabi doesn't think of him at all, let alone as one of his siblings. Thinking back, Dabi can't remember them being close, even as children.
"No, mom," he finally answers, "I don't think so."
His mother tsks and tells him, authoratively, "You should be. Fuyumi's a teacher. Kindergarten, I think. And Natsu's doing well in college. Shouto's—"
"I've never spoken to Shouto," he lies, slightly. He's taunted him as Dabi a few times, but as Touya? Never.
"That makes me sad, Touya," she chides, placing a hand on his forehead. "He's a good kid. He's got a really good head on his shoulders and he's very kind. Enji did a good job with him."
"If Endeavor raised him, I want nothing to do with him," Dabi dismisses flatly.
"That's an awful thing to say, Touya!" she scolds, using the same voice she did whenever he pranked one of sister. "Don't let your anger for your father ruin your relationship with Shouto. Anger does awful things to people...it can make us do the worst that we could possibly do. Shouto's better than Enji, and you should be good to him, too."
"I miss Yumi," Dabi says, changing the subject. His mother notices it, but doesn't say anything about it.
Instead, she lets out a sigh and asks, "You haven't seen her?"
"I haven't been very good to anyone, lately, mom."
This time, she pokes him, causing him to open his eyes and look at her. He finds her looking down at him, a perplexed look floating about her grey eyes before gardening, and he watches as she clenches her jaw. "Is this because of your father, Touya?"
"I-" Dabi starts, but cuts himself off seeing his mother look at him so harshly. Her face is turned into a small frown and wrinkles appear on her forehead, making her look more her age.
"You can be angry at him," she starts, her tone strict and heavy, "By God, be angry. Kick and scream and express yourself, but do not let it consume you. I'd hate to see your anger drive your actions." Dabi looked at her, his blue eyes darkening and closing. Gently, he shakes his head and places a hand to her cheek.
"Mom," he starts, his voice low, "it's a little more complicated than that." She kept her eyes on him, clearly not pleased with his answer. "Things are a little crazy right now, mom, and I can't say why."
"If things are crazy, it's your job to stay sane."
"No excuses, huh, mom?" he says jokingly, dropping his hand from her face. Looking at her, for a moment, she's actually only thirty-two and he's nine, being reprimanded for putting glue in his sister's hair gel.
"None."
"You want me to be good to them?"
"I want you to be good to everyone, Touya," she says with a small laugh on the tip of her tongue, "but you can start with your siblings, I suppose."
"I'll be good to anyone you ask," he says, stretching the truth just a little bit. When work comes around he can't always be good, but he knows he doesn't always have to work.
A knock on the door startled them both, sending them jumping out of their skins and scrambling over each other as to not show just how close they were, though they quickly relaxed when they seen a bright pair of glasses and soft white hair. The young woman looked from the door in awe, unable to find the courage to walk in. "Touya?" She gaped, her eyes wandering like a child at Christmas.
"Hey, Yumi," Dabi said, sitting up and alert at the wide-eyed adult. She was bigger than he remembered, older, with pretty adult features taking over her awkward teenage ones. She was still wearing glasses, even after swearing them off after years of him hiding and breaking them. Her white hair reached her shoulders and definite, bold red streaks littered the tresses. She almost reminded him of his mother, but her face held a serenity that he's never seen in his mother.
"Did Dad—" Fuyumi began, but quickly covers her mouth and cuts herself off, shaking her head. Dabi didn't miss how her grey eyes narrows slightly, and tears began forming on her lower eyelid, threatening to spill over. "How long have you been here?"
"Not long enough," Rei answers, running her thin fingers through his hair.
The rest of the evening lazed on carelessly, lively periods of excitement and chatter turning into lovely periods of tranquility and peace, and that oh-so-familiar feeling crept into Dabi's chest, squeezing his heart and preventing air from flowing into his burnt lungs. Though the inevitability of the moon landing in the sky is enough to bring Dabi to his legs and walk out of his mother's door and away from his sister's company, though not without kisses and promises that he will return.
Immediately after he closes the door, he hears something break, but before he can open it, he hears his mother's voice.
"He hurt my son again."
Dabi decides it's better if he walks away.
x
When he arrives home, it's darker than what he expected. The moon was taking on a waxy, yellow hue instead of the clean white that he knew and trusted. He walks in and finds Himiko sitting on the couch, a textbook in her hand and eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
Without thinking, he asks, "Don't you have parents?"
"M' father's dead," she replies smoothly, not taking her eyes off the book.
"Mine too." He goes over and sits with her on the couch, peering into the textbook only to find it blank. The girl mutters something about hating math, and he could never understand how she does what she does.
"He hit me, so m' boyfriend killed him."
"Mine too."
"You had a boyfriend?"
"I had a father who hit me." Himiko didn't say anything after this, burying her nose in the wordless book and focusing all her energy into studying. "I have a little sister, too."
"I'm your little sister."
"Close enough."