"So how's the city treating you so far?"

     That whole game of 'let's steal a celebrity' was going. . . pretty decent so far. You have gotten more than a few odd looks from anyone who were either actual fans of Todoroki, or just smitten by him. Who'd blame them? Man looked fine as hell. If you weren't guided by your impulsive choices of agreeing to date Dabi maybe you would've gone for him instead.

     . . .

     Then again, he did seem like a cheat. You can't be handsome, rich, respectful, and smell good all at the same time.

     "Ah," He rubs a nervous hand on his neck, the glass in his other long forgotten and now replaced by an ice cream cone you, once again, bought for him out of impulse. "About that. What with all the business meetings, and work-outings, I haven't been given much of a chance to explore the city." He laughs, if not sadly, a part of you regretting the fact that you ever let Jirou go off on her own. She got a call from one of the band members last minute, and was more or less forced to leave the two of you and Todoroki in the awkward, limbo-like stage of 'not being strangers' yet 'not being close enough to really be considered friends'. It was an inconvenience that bothers everyone involved.

     "Oh? Damn, let me guess, you don't get to control that schedule either, huh?" He sighs, but nods either way, kind of weirdly cradling his ice cream. "Yeah. En—our father," He catches himself, clearing his throat, "Our father, I mean, is all-that concerned with appearances. Seeing as we're relatively new, and the. . ." He looks off in hopes of finding a better word, "incident. . . at the boat caused kind of a stir in the community, he's been desperately trying to get things back in track." He yawns, covering his mouth with a handkerchief, "Which, in turn, has made me and my siblings exhausted beyond belief."

     The ice cream had pretty much melted, speckles of pink dropping onto the floor as he frowns. "Forgive me, I've been rambling."

     "Oh no, it's fine," You laugh, just about finishing your fair share and throwing away the tissues that came with the treat. "I'm a little sleep deprived myself. But. . ." You figured that, based on your short interactions thus far, that his father. . . doesn't sound like much of a father. He seemed more concerned about business and business alone, somehow forgetting that the people he's working with are of his own flesh and blood.

     "No offense, but your father sounds more like your manager than anything." That was enough to get a laugh out of him, finally actually eating his ice cream that you so generously just shoved into his hand earlier that day, "Tell me about it. I sometimes don't blame my brother for leaving," He laughs once again, though this time a lot more humorlessly, as you stare at him with a raised brow. "Oh?"

     He hums, turning to you before his eyes widen. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to—sorry, it's just. . . it's been a while since I've ever talked to someone about other than work and it. . ." He shakes his head, "Sorry, I'm speaking too much."

     "Oh no no no, it's totally fine!" You landed a supportive pat on his shoulder, by now finding yourself seated in a park bench you don't remember walking to. "I don't mind, plus it sounds like you really need it."

     He doesn't say much else, but his nod was enough to reassure you that he was somewhat thankful.

     You look off, the sun high up in the sky and assaulting you if it weren't for the limited amount of shade you at least got from a nearby tree. Cars raced from the road behind you, the sounds of Manhattan a cacophony to listen to, but it was enough of a home for you. "My. . . brother, left a long time ago." You look to him, quietly telling him it was alright to continue or stop talking if he didn't want to. "I saw pictures of him and asked our mother what had happened to him. She told me he left and didn't say anything else." He nonchalantly bit down on his ice cream, looking dazed and almost not realizing he did it.

     "Oddly enough, I don't remember sharing any memories with him. It's like all signs of him ever existing in my life disappeared with him," Todoroki had his fists clenched around the cone, cracking as the ice cream crumbled down with it. "Uh, Todoroki-kun—" The cold touching his hand was enough of a wake-up call for him, snapping him out of his gaze as he frowns at the wasted treat. "I'm sorry, I'll. . . I'll get you a new one."

     This guy seriously needs a lot of therapy.

     "Stop apologizing, I get it." You tried your best to put on a reassuring smile, "Well. . . I mean I don't, not that much to a personal level, but I know a thing or two about being left in the dark, I guess." You lean back on the bench, watching in the distance how a high school student—who was clearly supposed to be in school, but you weren't a snitch—fails to catch a frisbee, laughing louder than any of his other friends as he goes off to chase it, "Question is, do you want to meet him?"

     "Of course!" You quirk a brow, earning a clear of his throat as he composes himself once again, "Of course. If anything, a part of me even thought that. . . by whatever miracle there is that exists, I'd be able to find him here." He pauses, "In New York. Where I can visit him and ask why he even left." You nod, appreciating his sentiment and the thought of it, and although the odds would never be in his favor for a matter that coincidental, you welcome the idea of it. "Do you have a picture of him? Maybe I can use my totally-real powers and see if I know him," You attempted to joke, only earning a confused look in return. "I actually do. But, that'd be unlikely. The only picture I do have is of him is as a kid, and I don't think we'd ever be able to recognize him now that he's an adult." 

     . . .

     You know, you were learning pretty quickly that this guy probably didn't hear too much jokes growing up.

     You ignore it, leaning over as he shows the man in question, his hand holding onto what looked to be a dusty framed photograph in the picture. It was a simple enough photo, one that included everyone in their. . . fancy family. There was their father, their pregnant mother, two boys, one with red hair reminiscent of their father, the other white like their mother's, and the only girl that had a mix of both. Assuming that Shoto—that was his name, right?—didn't dye his hair, you can only assume that he was who their mother was pregnant of. 

     You only stared at the photo, pretending to know which brother he was talking about as you were left to your thoughts. "Our governess was the only one who told me that his name was Touya," You slowly nod, totally knowing which of these two were Touya. God, did it really hurt to pay attention to which Todoroki was who? 

      . . .that's not a fair question, the answer is yes, especially when you've only really spoken to one.

     "Okay so I totally know which one of these is Touya but for the record, which one of these guys is actually him?" He happily either doesn't hear or ignore your flat-out confession to not recognizing his other brother he's always with, even at the party, you just didn't see him. Either way he points to the kid, who looked to be the smallest out of the two bigger kids. He held a frown, red hair messy and unkept, a direct contrast to the somewhat neater appearances of the girl and hardly standing boy who was tethering on the early, somewhat middle stages of being a toddler. The suit he got on looked a size too big, wrinkled and almost as if it was put on in a rush. Why was that? Even the baby looked cleaner than him! No offense to whoever this guy is, but why does he look he so out of place? 

     Your face contorts into that of pure judgement, frowning at the slightly pixelated face that was heavily shrouded in shadows. Well to be fair, probably who dressed him was to blame. No way that a kid in a family of that status and wealth would ever be left to dress themselves until they were at least like, what, thirteen? 

     "Man, you sure as hell lucked out in the color department, huh?" You joked, continuing to scan over the dusty and overall old-looking nature of the photograph. Not the photograph that Shoto took, it'd be a crime for a phone that looked that expensive to ever have shitty quality, but more-so the one framed and left so unkept you were certain that this was left to rot somewhere in storage. "Even your eyes are. . ." You trailed off as you shamelessly zoom in on the photo, the man beside you not minding it at all as you squinted as hard as you could. "Are. . ." 

     There, in the darkness and shade given by that mop of unruly red hair, devoid of all life and hardly ever having it, were a striking cerulean you could never be able to mistake. 

     "Dabi. . ." You thought out loud with a frown, earning a raised brow from the Todoroki's youngest, "What?"

     Realizing you weren't alone, you quickly cleared your throat, going back to your original spot as you nodded stiffly. "Man what a shame I don't recognize him at all I'm so sorry I don't think I can help I'm—" For a second you could've sworn he looked offended at that, but upon actually looking at him you noticed where he was gazing to like a maiden longing for a life across the sea. Though a lot less dramatic and more serious.

     "We have to go there." You raise a brow, half-expecting him to be pointing at some weird New-York-exclusive shop or something of the sorts, following where his finger led to. . . a building on fire.

     "Nope!" You said entirely on instinct, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him up to walk back to where the rest of his family was. "What? Why not?" He keeps looking back, like a child trying to convince their mother to stay just five more minutes at an amusement park, frowning as it didn't seem like you would budge, "We need to help?"

     "Take it from the girl who's fresh-off the kidnap roster and has been held at gunpoint at least twice in her life now, we don't," You turn back to glare at him, glad that the building was getting smaller and smaller and slowly out of sight, "We have the cops for that. Also, getting trapped in a burning building is anything but fun, Todoroki-kun." You nod at his slowly opening mouth, "Yes, from experience." 

     "You sound like you lead a fun life," You weren't sure whether or not that was a passing side-comment or a direct jab, deciding to just laugh at it. Although a little too obnoxiously for your liking, "AHAHAHA I sure do!" You were about a block away now, Melissa's school coming into view and the paparazzi parked outside for a certain rich family about to make their red carpet like entrance just to get to their limo. "Oh, is. . . I think your dad's glaring at us, Todoroki-kun." You quickly let go of his arm, wincing at the obvious wrinkles you unknowingly caused on the sleeves. 

     He follows your gaze with a knowing and seemingly unbothered look, but the way his fist clenched even on the sticky issue he had with the ice cream and how cold his eyes looked, never-mind the color, you knew more than ever that his relationship with his dad wasn't all too-great. "Hey, maybe you can talk to him?"

     He realizes what you were trying to do pretty quickly, sending you a passing smile as he turns to go back with his posture as straight as ever and aura that of a reigning king, "It's fine. I'll see you around, L/N-san. Thank you for the treat." With a final nod he walks off, not being given much of a chance to say your greetings back. Instead you settled with observing how he interacted with his father, not missing the almost-all the time occurrence of them silently glaring at each other before breaking contact to do something else. It was a mess, it was toxic, and a part of you felt even sadder at the sight of his siblings just following suit quietly like kicked puppies. 

     You saw him looking out his side of the surprisingly open window, sending a palm up as a sign of a final goodbye as he waves back.

     But once again you catch him glaring, at something, someone you didn't need to see to know, before rolling up his windows and the car driving off into the distance. You got to see a glimpse into the life of being a Todoroki, or more-so, a life they could have had that was away from the ones that they do. A life they'd probably enjoy a lot more. No doubt that popularity and fans isn't much of the issue, really, who wouldn't want a group of people to idolize you so much to the point that it's creepy? No one, right? So who could say for sure that Shoto wasn't just being a bratty rich kid crying about how famous he was?

      . . .

     Oh that's right you, because for the first time in for-never somebody actually talked to him with all the intentions of making a friend.

     You turned on your heel, deciding now that going back to your boutique was a good idea. You should've gone back hours ago of course, but like, come on, cut you some slack, somebody needed your help and you and to figure out what a certain liquid does and—

     . . .

     Oh my God the liquid.

     A groan escapes your lips as you stumbled in the afternoon heat, running a hand down your face in total disregard of whatever was on there at the thought and memory of why you were in this area in the first place. Vial, pink, mutation, kidnapping, bad—it all slipped your mind! Fuck, what now though? Stealing Todoroki away was your form of distraction from ever having to think, but now that your distraction was over, you were completely back to square one! Square zero even! Goddammit!

     "I need a drink," you mumbled to no one in particular, silently agreeing to let yourself suffer in the heat than getting into a taxi. It was just a short ways off back to the Garment District, pfft, it's not like it'd take forever to go there on-foot haha, totally. . . totally not. 

     . . .

     Okay maybe you were lying to yourself, but you sure as hell weren't jumping into a taxi cab any time soon. It was either exercise or another life threatening situation. Man, ain't trust issues such an amazing thing? 

     "You need a ride, girlie?" Called out a—probably well-meaning—taxi driver with his window rolled down, adrenaline pumping into your heart as you shake your head erratically. "NO!" 

     Needless to say you turned more than a few heads as you dashed madly in the vague direction of where you were supposed to be going.

● ● ●

     "What are we supposed to do with this thing?" It was nearing midnight and you sat on the couch with your head draped dramatically over the back, Jirou sitting beside you with her nose in her fourth cup of coffee and eyes glued to whatever shitty movie you could find and binge without commitment. 

     The vial still rolled on the palm of your hand lifelessly, half of what remained still oozing inside. You weren't too sure why Layla hadn't just taken all of it, seeing as it didn't really serve any purpose if it were to stay in your hold, but you decided that it was of respect to whether or not you wanted to keep it. "She said she needed more information on it and you stupidly agreed to get some even though you have no idea where to start."

     . . .

     You lift your head up just to look at her in offense, earning a shrug without her ever turning her head to address it to you. "I don't know, just thought to remind you, because I know you'd forget." You scoffed, lightly hitting her but not denying that she was right either way. Blue mentioned that they'd be keeping their files close to whoever was manufacturing these, no doubt in either a secret base, an underground laboratory, or both. You don't know why you ever agreed to get those research papers, seeing as you weren't really in need of it. You didn't need a cure for Layla to reverse engineer, you didn't need to know more than that the thing could mutate people, and the information would certainly hold no value to you. So why oh why were you so tempted, so fucking tempted to just grab your phone and start asking Freddie for help. If that girl can listen in on previous call logs, surely it wouldn't be too hard to search for a lab, right? And maybe even—

     "Well, I'm going to bed." Jirou stretches as she stands with an empty mug once again in her hold, turning and dragging herself over to the kitchen. "You should too, I'm sure that the date with Todoroki tired you out."

     "Shut up!" You ignored her cackle of laughter, walking off to her room as the blanket she had on her shoulders acted as a pseudo cape of her Tom-Fuckery. "Girl please, you were practically drowning in those oh-so lovey, so romantic, beautiful mismatched eyes!!" She swiftly ducks a throw pillow her way by jumping through the door, giving you one last raspberry before slamming it closed with a lock. 'Goodnight, sleep tight, don't let the Dabi bite!' Came her muffled voice, before peace finally settled in the apartment. 

     . . .huh. Right. Maybe you should ask him about. . . what Todoroki—err, I guess just Shoto if you were ever proven right—mentioned.