Work Text:
There are some words that are like platitudes. The words ring empty and taste bitter in their mouth. The blank beige walls suddenly seem to tower over them. They feel the words strangling their lungs as they try to remember how to function. The white desk tucked into a corner with only a little bonsai tree and a white desk lamp on top of it. They squirm in their chair, feeling insecure about something they had been so sure about a moment ago.
They feel as if someone has ripped the rug right from under their feet. There is no foundation left to stand on; there are only white tiles staring back at them. They glance over at the bed with its white sheets and white pillows on their right side. They find themselves missing a way to tell the time. They try not to notice how it makes them feel disconnected from their physical prison. Their limbs feel weighted to the ground by an unknown force. By way of their imagination, they can hear the tick-tock of a clock.
They curl their fingers into fists after noticing that their hands are trembling. From behind their desk, they can see out their window into the parking lot. They understood for the first time why everyone else their age liked to drive: for the freedom it offered. They had been too scared of vivid visions of car accidents and people dying.
The overhead speaker chimes. They are still in their seat, swallowing breathing as if trying to cease all noise. The person coughs into the speaker.
“This is your morning announcement-” They wonder why they are here. Where was here? “You will be taken to breakfast this morning-” The closet filled with neutral color clothing in front of their bed held no answers. They return their gaze to the window. This is the daily scripture for today-” The last words send their mind spiraling and their stomach-churning.
If they weren’t panicking before, they certainly were now. A shiver racked through their full body. Oh. Of course. The plain white pajamas no longer look so innocent, but the white serves as a reminder of how they will never be pure.
‘Not so pure, are you?’ Touya can feel his voice inside their head. Dabi slinks inside his new room, wearing his signature black and his smirk that got under his skin.
“Shut up.” Touya tries to make their face as bored as possible. They couldn't let Dabi realize that he was getting under their skin. They quietly rubbed their thumb over their wrists, trying to soothe themselves.
‘Couldn’t be the one dear old dad wanted?” Dabi plopped onto their bed, claiming their space as his. ‘Always the failure, Touya.’ The words sting more than the boiling water did. Touya swallows their anger, trying to ignore the pain that resurfaces with his words.
‘Sweet, kind Rei didn’t want you. Your mother didn’t love you.’ Touya feels as if his chest has suddenly turned to lead when he struggles to breathe. Oh, how they wished he was wrong. ‘You don’t even have a face that a mother could love.’ Touya choked back a sob with the awareness that there was no way Dabi hadn’t heard that.
“At least I have a mother and a father. A mother who did try to love me. It’s not her fault that I was such a bad child. A father who tried to train me. He put all the effort in for nothing. I had Natsuo, Fuyumi, and Shouto.” Touya wishes they had pictures to back up the words they are confidently throwing at Dabi. A picture of Touya being held by Rei before she decided he looked too much like Enji and a picture of Natsuo, Fuyumi, and him building a snowman together after Shouto’s quirk manifested. Dabi snorts, clearly not believing a word they just said.
“Right, Rei deserves the mother of the year award. Pouring boiling water onto your face is what a good mother does. Enji put you here for kissing a boy. Showing how homophobic he is, isn’t he?” Dabi’s eyes lack the usual mirth from when he teases Touya. Touya avoids Dabi’s glower.
“It was wrong. The desire to kiss another boy is wrong.” Touya whispers with their knees pulled into their body.
“Why do you still listen to him? His words do not need to control you.” Dabi’s gentle tone almost set them off. It was smoothing like a baby being rocked by a gentle summer breeze. He bottled up their urge to cry after the tone they missed from their mother.
Touya only had two memories of Rei being their mother. Their mother had made hot chocolate with the mini marshmallows for herself and her children. Fuyumi had sneezed into the cup, freezing her hot chocolate. Natsuo’s loud and carefree laugh had boomed within the house. Touya had a small tentative smile on their face.
It was hard for them not to notice that Shouto had yet to be born. The miracle birth was akin to Jesus’s birth. The child that was born with the perfect duality of Rei’s and Enji’s quirks. Shouto has the perfect combo of ice and fire, which is further confirmed by his red and white hair. The golden child is the apple of Enji’s eye, and he does not have time for his other children.
Enji put Touya and his other children in a Catholic school. Touya barely remembered their time in school. Those were the years they spent crying in the bathroom. Those were the years they spent hating their attraction to men. Those were the years they spent dragging anything sharp they could get their hands on across their skin.
Dabi is the only reason they had survived all those years in school and in training. Dabi was a part of them that they carried around with them. He was sorta like a roommate that made self-deprecating jokes and impulsive decisions. For example, Dabi decided to kiss another boy at their Catholic school.
“All your fault,” Touya mumbled, giving Dabi a pointed look. “That we ended up here.”
Dabi rolled his eyes. “Enji called this mercy. Can’t let a homo roam free at our Catholic school. Better to lock us up than to throw us out of his house.” Their chest stung at the memory of Enji wrapping his hands around their throat and letting their neck burn. The burning look of hatred was seared into their memory. If this is mercy, he didn’t want it. He would rather bring down the wrath of God. Mercy is for Shouto and Enji.