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The bathroom door slammed with enough force to rip it from its hinges. Touya locked it with a sharp twist of his fingers, then stripped off his clothes, tossing them into a wrinkled pile near the scale. His fingers still trembled slightly from the cold air of morning practice as he twisted the dial on the shower to a scalding hot setting. He lathered his usual washing rag with the scent of that minty soap he liked, scrubbing it across his aching muscles and sweat soaked skin.
He was already trying to rinse away the entire morning. His coach was being an ass that morning, and by the time he had managed to drag himself back home from the grueling training session, his parents were already halfway out of the door, his father barking an order that he was in charge while they were gone this weekend. No explanation. His father never had time for an explanation. Enji Todoroki never had time for anything. Especially not for his eldest. Touya turned up the shower dial. The water wasn’t hot enough.
He grabbed whatever expensive shampoo Fuyumi had left on the rack and poured a fat blob onto his hands. He attempted to massage the ache already forming at the back of his head with his fingers. It seemed that every time Touya was given responsibility of his siblings for even a few minutes, everything would blow up in his face. Touya didn’t doubt it would be any different today. He just wanted some peace before they woke up.
He tried to think of literally anything else. The video game he had been meaning to try out, but had totally forgotten about buying. He and Natsuo could play it together once he bought it. Or the homework his teacher had assigned. Math was one of his better subjects, but Touya was still at a loss with whatever his teacher had assigned them to look over this week. A pile of nonsense. First principles? Differentiation?
He reached for the conditioner and applied a little to the ends of his hair. Takami was in his math class. Touya could just ask if Takami had any idea about the math stuff during their next chemistry session. Takami was smart. Smarter than Touya. He would know, for definite. But he would probably make that annoying face again. That satisfied smirk when Touya said something stupid. How his lips would lift gently at the edges when Touya managed to finally grasp a difficult concept. He’d probably laugh in Touya’s face for even admitting to needing help in the first place. And his wings would stiffen up when Touya said something slightly rude in retaliation. Touya wanted to run his fingers through those wings, just to see how Keigo might react. He wondered if–
Touya turned down the dial to freezing and shivered as the water trickled down his back. He quickly rinsed the conditioner from his mop of white hair and stepped out of the shower, drying his hair roughly with a hand towel. His wet feet squelched down the hall as he headed to his bedroom.
French toast seemed like a good option for breakfast this morning. Touya would usually just skip breakfast and go straight to bed after a morning session, but he had his siblings to look after. They were more important than some well deserved shut eye. He dragged on some plain boxers and some flannel pyjama pants that sat low on his hips, then headed to the kitchen.
He hated how easy it was for him to slip into his father’s shoes like this. Not the cruelty or the anger. Never with his siblings. It was the responsibility. Touya sometimes forgot he was sixteen– like he wasn’t just trying to figure out what he wanted to do with his own life, and trying to survive in this house like the child he was.
It would be easy to shove some half-assed cereal at his siblings and head back up to bed. But his hands still moved on autopilot, cracking an egg into the bowl and adding a splash of milk, cinnamon and salt. His siblings deserved better than that. They deserved stability, comfort, and warmth. He always tried to give them his best.
He dipped the bread into the slightly salted batter and dropped it in the frying pan as the first straggler emerged. Natsuo, who must have smelled the cinnamon and frying from upstairs, shuffled into the room with tired eyes and a yawn to accompany them. He sniffled slightly, heading straight for the sink and grabbing a glass to fill with water.
“French toast?” Natsuo mumbled.
Touya raised a brow as he slid the spatula under the slice of bread, flipping it, “You don’t like it?”
“I didn’t say that…”
“You alright?” Touya asked, looking over his shoulder and frowning. Natsuo had that familiar far away look in his eyes.
“It's nothing.”
Classic.
Touya didn’t push. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He did care– far more than he would ever admit to Natsuo– but because Touya recognised that tight coil, ready to snap at any second. Touya knew it all too well.
Touya was halfway through chopping up strawberries by the time Fuyumi sauntered down, her hair curled gently at the bottoms, and light makeup already applied. She yawned, sitting down at the table and pouring both her and Natsuo a drink from the pitcher. Touya frowned when he saw her, and Fuyumi pouted.
“You always make that face when I wear makeup, Touya.”
“You don’t need it.” Touya replied, popping a bit of fruit into his mouth and sliding the rest from the chopping board to a bowl with the knife. “You look fine normally.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue with him as he sat the assortment of fruit and French toast at the table. It was probably the closest to a compliment she was going to get from any of her brothers, but she knew that was just how siblings operated.
“Can one of you go fetch Shouto?” Touya asked, although his request was ignored in favour of dousing the food in sweet syrups and bickering over trivial nonsense. Of course.
Touya climbed upstairs again, hand on the railing and rubbing his stiff back. He gently pushed Shouto’s door open and looked at the sleeping boy with a conflicted expression. Blaming Shouto for his father’s actions was something of the past now, and their one sided bad blood was gone. He still felt a little resent in his heart every now and then, however. Touya put a gentle hand on Shouto’s head, waking him up.
Shouto stiffened until he realised it was Touya, then curled up a little tighter into his cocoon of blankets. “It’s morning?”
“Yeah, kid.” Touya replied, tucking a tiny strand of the kid’s hair behind his ear. “Come on. It’s just us today. Dad’s away.”
“Really?” Shouto sat up, rubbing his eyes, voice a little more hopeful. He stretched his arms out, and Touya didn’t hesitate to scoop him up.
Touya rubbed his back gently as they walked downstairs together, “Really. And it’s French toast for breakfast.”
“Can I have the red sauce?” Shouto asked, wiping a slightly snotty nose on his pyjama sleeve while Touya sat him down on one of the dining room chairs.
“Sure.” Touya said, cutting his toast into triangles like Shouto liked it. He grabbed a few knives and forks from the drawers, sitting them on the table next to the ketchup.
The second Touya sat down, ready to take a deep breath and maybe a bite of some food if his siblings hadn’t vacuumed the whole lot up yet, the whole table blew up. Natsuo and Fuyumi were still bickering about the same crap from earlier.
Natsuo spoke while chewing on his toast, a look of shame in his eyes, “I just don’t want to… I don’t want to end up like dad. It was just a stupid argument, but…”
“Natsuo…” Fuyumi started, pressing her lips into a thin line.
“What if I said something wrong, though? She said it's fine, but what if she’s just saying that? What if I made her feel scared!?” Natsuo fidgeted, his hand a little shaky as he took a sip of his juice. “And, and what if she’s just too afraid to say something? I don’t want to turn into him! ”
“Natsuo–” Touya sighed, trying to step in.
“Shut up, Touya! You don’t even get it.” Natsuo yelled, “You’re not even in a relationship. You don’t even… You don’t even like anyone.”
Fuyumi didn’t look impressed, “He’s just trying to offer you support, Natsuo.”
“Here comes the peacekeeper, again.” Natsuo rubbed his temples, getting increasingly frustrated with his older siblings. “Why do you always act like everything’s okay! It’s not!”
“Enough.” Touya stressed, loudly, “Both of you, just shut up!”
Crash . Touya’s gaze snapped to his side. Shouto had clearly been reaching for the ketchup, and in the process knocked his glass and plate onto the ground. Broken glass littered the floor. Touya took a deep breath and sighed. Shouto had tears in his wide eyes.
Shouto choked up, freezing as Touya got up from his seat and approached. “I-I didn’t mean it! I’m sorry, I swear, please don’t tell Dad–”
“Shouto, it’s fine.” Touya placed a gentle hand on his head. “It’s just a plate, alright? And it was an accident. I break stuff all the time. Remember when I broke that rice cooker last week?”
Touya rustled his little brother’s hair, walking to and rummaging under the kitchen sink for a brush and a pan to clean up the glass and ceramic mess. The kitchen was quiet for the minute it took him to sweep it all up and empty it into the bin.
Just as Touya was about to sit down, and the conversation was close to returning back to non-controversial territory, a knock sounded on the front door. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Touya pushed his hair back from his face with his hand, walking towards the front door and opening it. Standing there, far too chipper and upbeat for this time of the day was Keigo Takami.
“Wow.” Takami commented cheerfully, raising a full brow, “You always open the door looking like this, or am I just incredibly lucky?”
“Shut up.” Touya grumbled, running a hand down his face. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the door frame. “What are you doing here?”
“Paper run!” Takami held up his little red bag filled with newspapers. Another odd side hustle of his to get a little extra cash. “Thought I’d swing by. You forgot your chem notes last session.”
Takami rummaged through his bag, pulling out a stack of folded notes. Touya snatched them, tucking the bunch under his armpit. “Right, Thanks.”
Touya flinched when another crash sounded from the kitchen, and then more yelling. He closed his eyes, and Takami chuckled nervously.
“You need help? Babysitting?” Takami offered.
“It’s fine. They’re my younger siblings. Ignore them.”
“You must be doing a great job. Explains the ketchup in your hair.” Takami grinned, smugly pointing.
“What?” Touya touched his hair, feeling a bit of toast and sticky ketchup welded onto his soft and freshly washed locks, “Oh, for fuc– whatever.”
Takami grinned again, then his eyes shifted slightly to behind Touya. Shouto waddled closer to the door, looking up at Keigo with big eyes and wrapping his ketchup fingers around Touya’s pyjama bottoms.
“Touya?” Shouto tugged on his pant leg, “Is this your boyfriend?”
Touya rolled his eyes as Takami roared with laughter. His eye twitched, but he still patted Shouto on the head. “No, kid.”
“Shame,” Takami flashed those pearly whites of his, looking at Shouto. “I would have brought your brother some flowers if I knew we were dating.”
“Takami.” Touya deadpanned, using the same scolding voice that he would use on Natsuo.
“Fine, fine .” Keigo teased. “Hang in there, champ.”
“Don’t call me that.” Touya muttered.
“Catch you later, champ! ” Keigo waved, winking as he walked down the driveway and off to the next house awaiting an annoyingly good-looking newspaper boy.
Touya shut the door, immediately planting his face in his hands and cursing under his breath. “I’m going to set that stupid bird on fire...”
“Are you sure he’s not your boyfriend?” Shouto asked, looking up at Touya, seeming even more confused than before.
“Get back to the table, or I’ll put ketchup in your hair next.”