Shoto's Perspective

My earliest memory is the day my brother disappeared. Everything before that is a blur of metals and and sparks and fire. Although, when I ask my brother or sister about it they say it never happened. So perhaps it isn't a memory. Perhaps it's a dream. Or rather, a nightmare. A nightmare I am cursed to see again. And again. And again. And it's always the same. Always

"Toya?" My voice comes out as a quiet whimper. For once, I sound like the six year old I am "Mama, where's-" but she cuts me off.
"Shoto. Be quiet" my mother hisses. I squeeze her hand in my own small one. Where are we? The room is dark. The metal walls stretch as I can see. It's narrow, making my skin crawl. Are we in The Wall? To our left, a majestic city perfectly controlled by Androids. To our right, wild untamed farmland with few humans and no Androids. Or perhaps it's the other way around? It doesn't matter. "Tell me, Shoto. What do you see?" My mother asks. I don't know how to answer. What am I supposed to say? I open my mouth to speak.

Before I can speak, I am cut off. My mother doesn't listen to me anymore. Why isn't she listening? Where is my brother? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. Fuyumi is talking. What is she saying?  I can't breathe. I can't see. The world is spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Everything swirls around me, blending like a kaleidoscope. I am inside the kaleidoscope. I am not alive. I am not dead. Sparks. Embers. Fire. Fire. Fire. Death

         I wake up sweating and screaming every time. No one comes to help, of course. Why would they? Nightmares are all too common in the Todoroki household.

       Here, it's different. Here, I sit up and bang my head on the ceiling of the tiny room I share with Katsuki Bakugo. I hate this room. Compared to my bedroom at home, it's absolutely tiny. But it's not just that. The worn out carpet on the floor, the window that creaks when you open it, the faint cracks and stains... everything about this room screams that it has been lived in. People have cried in here. Laughed in here. There have been Punishments issued and papers written. News-both good and bad-has been received in this very room.

What right do I have to be in a room like this? What right do I have to sit on this bed, to see these walls, to laugh, and cry, and exist in a room like this.

I'm not a person

I'm just a failure

      I'm just a machine

Katsuki's Perspective

I used to think that absolutely nothing could be worse than my home. With its empty room and broken promises. Now, I've certainly reconsidered. Empty and depressing as it may have been, at least it isn't mumbling all the time! Any excitement about the hot boy from the coffee shop being my roommate is long gone now, after only a week. Because now all I can hear is mumbling. Constant. 24/7. Mumbling. I thought stupid Deku was bad, but this is a whole other level. At least Deku was mumbling the answers to tests and "oh I wonder what's for dinner for night" and reciting facts about the Saviors.

Shoto is nowhere near that tolerable. If you look up angst, I promise you there will be a picture of Shoto Todoroki. With him, it's a constant stream of the backstory for and edgy thirteen year old's made up character
"Why am I not good enough for this?"
"I can't make friends! That'll ruin everything!"
"I must do what Father wants of me"
I'll admit, it was funny to listen at first. For the first ten minutes. Recently, I've been spending as much time as possible outside, with my friends... and Izuku. With him to. Today, however, it's pouring rain. Me and Shoto are stuck in our dorm, since neither of us have umbrellas.

I'm lying down with my torso dangling over the edge of the bed, throwing a ball up at the ceiling. My tank top has fallen up to my shoulders, so my abdomen is fully revealed. My muscles are on display. But, far more prominent than them, is the massive pink scar spreading across my chest and abs. Once upon a time, I'd be panicking and trying to hide this scar. Not anymore. Honestly, I'm too done with everything to hide it. Besides, everyone knows that asking about it is rude. Even Shoto. Although I can feel his stupidly pretty eyes on it.

Neither of us have said anything for the past four or five hours. I wish we could keep it like that. I'm not in the mood to talk about whatever conversation starters Shoto googled in his spare time. But I know I'm out of luck when I see him leaning over the edge of the bed and looking me dead in the eyes

        "I've been thinking..." he starts. Oh that can't be good. Him thinking usually means we're gonna have a philosophical discussion about something. I brace myself for his stupidly philosophical words "about what you said in the cafe..." he continues, trailing off for a minute. That's new. We've rarely even acknowledged that we met each other, much less about our far-less-than-Perfect conversation in the cafe "you said humans would take over law enforcement. But we all know how that went before. They were corrupt as hell. So, I ask you, why are you okay with the thought of having a protecter with a soul? They'd have bias. They'd defend their friends more. People wouldn't agree with their decisions, and they'd have a reason to. They could make you an Imperfect because they don't like you"

For a split second, I don't respond. I don't want to think of that
"Why the fuck are you so invested in this? It's just a weird philosophical dilemma. Nothing we need to concern ourselves with. Anyways, wanna go to an arcade? I need to get out of this room and there's an old retro arcade nearby," I backflip off my bed, a trick I learned a while ago to impress cute guys, and sit on the floor
"But-," he starts, wanting to continue his stupid fucking philosophy
"Look, Sho, there's a reason I'm not a philosophy student. Let's just go to an arcade and waste our time and money" I don't know where the nickname came from, but I really like it. Shoto clearly doesn't. Or maybe that's just his normal emo boy frown. I get to my feet and grab my raincoat. Even if we do get kinda wet, at least we won't have to be stuck in here having fucking philosophical discussions

"Why do you always ask shit like that? The system is Perfect, we both know it. Asking that shit could get you a Mess-Up!" My voice is frantic
"Why are you so scared of being Imperfect?" Deflecting my question. Nice job Half and Half. But I just sigh and slowly speak
"I don't want to disappear before I find out what the hell I'm here for"

(Word count: 1212) sorry that this was so boring- I promise its all gonna be important later