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Enji isn't entirely sure how he got here, snowed in with his eldest son, but he supposes he shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He's not in any danger, although Hawks does have a particular soft spot for the former A-rank villain, so wariness perhaps shouldn't be entirely sworn off just yet.
It's been a while since Touya's arrest and subsequent move to Hawks'—or, as he prefers these days, Takami Keigo's—custody. Endeavor hasn't seen him once, Touya's therapist deciding it best he takes time to restabalize before being thrust into the hands of his former abuser.
His relationship with his three youngest improved considerably after Rei's meltdown. Shameful as it is to admit, seeing his wife's turmoil have such a vicious and physical manifestation—on top of Touya's then recent 'death'—knocked him out of his obsessive drive for number one and forced him to reconsider the way he was treating his family.
Though of course, none of that matters to the man laying on the couch across the room from him, who hadn't been there for any of his reformation. He knows Natsuo and Fuyumi speak to Touya rather often, but his eldest son is slow to trust and Enji is well aware he's the one to beat that into him. Spending as much time on the streets as Touya has certainly didn't help, either.
"You know, Endeavor," Touya says suddenly, pushing himself of the couch and towards a window, "You n' me together, we'd probably be able to melt all the snow and get out of here."
Aside from the obvious hole in that plan—Touya can't leave the front yard without the authorities being immediately alerted—Enji finds himself considering, glad his son was at least speaking to him rather than his previous of state of staring at the ceiling in rapt interest. "Well," he hums, teasing, "if we managed to melt it, the water would just freeze over again, and then we'd be left with a frozen lake where Takami's front yard used to be."
Touya grins at him as he shifts from the window to the front door. Enji notes the suppressant cuffs hung loosely around his thin wrists, and supposes Hawks isn't so reckless as to allow Touya access to his Quirk. Hawks does technically have the authority to remove them if he sees fit, though, for the most part, he's required to have them when there's company, but, again, soft spot. Enji wouldn't expect, perhaps in foolish hope, for Touya to attack him, but it itches in the back of his mind. Selfish, his mind supplies in the voice of a not-so-ex-boyfriend of his.
He's not too worried about that though. His wrists though... Touya has always been thin; part of flame Quirks is a high metabolism, and Touya is one of the few rare people with one so powerful. Enji wants to cringe just thinking about how his drive for power left his son almost perpetually malnourished. How his masterplan of a child with superior temperature regulation to his own left his son with a body not made for his Quirk. And then he just kept trying. As if it'd change anything. For not the first time, he wants to go back in time and beat some sense into his younger self.
Touya turns the doorknob, his now-healed scar tissue catching the light with the twist of his wrist. Regret isn't going to help him though, so he shoves the observation to the back of his mind to consider later.
The door opens fully, the cold wind pushing snow into the foyer despite the covered porch. Touya is still barefoot as he steps out onto the porch. Despite himself, he follows, worry creeping up his throat. Too late, Enji, too-fucking-late, for fatherly concern. This time the comment is in his own voice. A-plus for self awareness, he guesses.
He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching as Touya sits on the porch swing and tugs his knees to his chest. He toys with the hem of his pants, quiet again. Enji stays quiet too, observing. How long has in been since he's seen Touya sit like that?
A memory comes to him. Touya sitting the waiting room at his pediatrician's office, fiddling with his velcro shoes. They're there for a regular check-up. Touya's four and Fuyumi sits in Rei's lap beside him. It's evident Touya's Quirk is coming in soon, the signs all there. Enji hasn't hurt him, not yet.
In the present, Touya isn't fiddling anymore, just sitting with his head on his knees, staring out at the blizzard in front of them.
"Touya," he almost whispers, "would you really rather freeze to death than sit in a room with me?" It's not meant to be a threat, just a genuine question, but Enji wants to slap himself. Guilt-trip him, why don't'cha? Ayumu teases in his head.
Touya doesn't reply for a while.
Enji considers if he should sit with him, but opts to just shut the door behind him. He wonders if Rei is sitting on her own porch watching the snow like she used to with Touya. Having long since divorced, he rarely speaks to her. Most of their recent conversations comprise of them speaking about Shouto's medical care after whatever recent villain encounter 1-A (now 3-A) had inevitably happened that month.
"No," Touya says, pulling Enji from his thoughts. He waits for Touya to continue, but he doesn't elaborate.
"No?"
The quiet falls back into place. Touya goes back to fidgeting with his pant leg. "I–" Touya exhales, his breath condensing in the cold air. "I just wanted you to pay attention, I guess."
Enji suddenly feels as if this isn't about Takami's living room anymore. He bites the bullet and sits next to Touya on the porch swing. It tilts awkwardly at his weight and Touya slides further to the side.
Enji doesn't move. The quiet remains.
"You can move towards the center." Enji looks at him, confused. Touya is still watching the snow fall. "So, uh, it doesn't tilt like that," he continues, as if it the most obvious thing I the world. It probably is.
Enji shifts towards the center.
They go quiet again. It's peaceful, like someone put a blanket over the world. It reminds him of reading under his blanket at night so his mom wouldn't catch him... he exhales roughly.
"I'm sorry," he says, the quiet words somehow reverberating through the snow. He's probably imagining that, though. Touya's breath hitches. He almost expects rage, but he doesn't get it. Maybe Touya's mellowed out, too.
What he does get, though, surprises him. "Shou said..." Touya swallows, "He said it quit. When mom left." There's no mistaking what 'it' refers to.
"You've talked to Shouto?"
"At the hospital, when they were treating my burns. He, uh, he stopped by." He pauses, now looking at Enji, if not directly in the eye. He nods, encouraging him to continue. Touya looks away again, pulling at a loose string on his pants. "He said he appreciated the, uhm, the protectiveness. Well, that's the word he used, I was mostly just, I dunno. I resented him then, I guess. But anyway, he told me I didn't need to be angry anymore."
It strikes Enji then that his son hasn't really had the chance to grow up, not really. The comparison passed his mind earlier, but he really does just look like a little kid curled up on the corner of the couch, waiting for a parent to carry him to bed and tuck him in. He can hardly imagine doing that for a 25 year old who's lived more life that he's ought to of, but... "We should go inside." He supposes he can play parent.
"Why?" Touya asks, not looking up from his feet, "It's not like either of us will get pneumonia."
"I've gotten pneumonia." Touya looks up at him then, looks right at him. He gives him a strange look as if to reasses something. Then he laughs. Not violently-so, not even for a particularly long time. It's more of snort than anything, but it's something, and he'll take what he can get. Gift horse and all, right?
He looks away again soon after. "Well, then, old man, go inside. I'll stay right here though 'cause I've never gotten pneumonia. Resistance to the cold and fire Quirk, you know. One hell of a combination." Despite his words—the history behind them, moreso—Touya is grinning. Not a mocking grin, just a genuine smile—one he recognizes from the early days of his and Rei's marriage.
"You should still go inside, Touya. Just becuase you've never gotten gotten it, doesn't mean you can't. You're only human."
Touya looks at him again. "Who ever taught you that?"
"Taught me what?"
"'You're only human' is what you said." Oh. He almost winces, but swallows it down, guilt rearing it's ugly head. He supposes he hadn't treated Touya as a person since... well, since before he got his Quirk. Masterpiece, failure, villain. No particular voice assigns itself to that though, and it makes it all the heavier.
Something in his face must tell Touya he doesn't need elaboration, and something in the young man's aura shifts. Tenseness Enji barely realized was there melts off of Touya, who smiles again, much softer. So much like Rei it makes Enji's heart ache. "Well damn," he says, grin widening once again, "whoever said you can't teach an old dog new tricks?
"Well, old man? Let go inside. Wouldn't want you catching pneumonia."