Shoto Todoroki

Todoroki was in the midst of throwing up the portion of the sandwich he'd eaten when the door to the bathroom creaked open. It wasn't as though he could simply halt everything at once or reverse the process or effects of his actions; all he could do was swallow down his acerbic regrets while vomiting up his stomach contents.

Shit, he inwardly lambasted himself. Lie. What's a feasible lie? I wasn't feeling well after eating more than I was used to? I can't say the truth: for my sister's sake, I'm not allowed to weigh more than one hundred and five pounds. I never eat, so my metabolism isn't great. To compensate for that when I do eat…it's always this.

Once Todoroki had finally ceased his retching and thawed the thin but sturdy and compact layer of ice surrounding his knuckles and his teeth, he disposed of the repulsive bath of acidic mush that he'd disgorged. Catching his burning breath, Todoroki leaned back against the side of the stall for a moment to recover his equilibrium. Then, with mortified apprehension shackling his body to the floor, he shakily unlocked the stall he'd occupied and stepped out; his gaze that was daubed with white stains drifted inadvertently yet ineluctably to the person that was unfortunate enough to have heard him.

Sure enough, the person—the only realistic person—that greeted Todoroki's eyes was Bakugou. The ash-blonde wore an expression that Todoroki had never witnessed before: harrowed, uncomfortable bewilderment.

'Don't lose your fucking composure, Shoto,' Todoroki reminded himself while a hefty, noxious veil of silence compressed the air. Don't say or do anything impulsive.

Finally, in a raspy and fragmented voice, Todoroki murmured, "I'm sorry you had to hear that." His footsteps resonated throughout the bathroom, and once those faded, the sound of running water replaced it. "I was so full. I guess my body couldn't handle that much food."

"Are you doing this to yourself on purpose?" Bakugou snapped at point-blank, causing a whirlpool of white to varnish over Todoroki's mind.

It would be rude to pick at my food, but I'd surely gain weight. But I'm so thin. It would be fine. But I can't risk Fuyumi being beaten. If I threw it up… But I'd leave marks. Ah. My ice. That way, no one will know. If I have to do this to myself to keep her safe, I will. I don't mind. I already take up enough space in this world. I guess it would be a fitting end for me if I died of starvation.

Todoroki shook his head and began to dry his hands after rinsing out his mouth. "Why would I ever want to do that? That sounds awful." His gaze was unwavering and austere as he stared into Bakugou's vermillion eyes.

Bakugou sized Todoroki up as he spat, "Hell if I know what goes on in your head. What, do you think you're fat?" His eyes squinted a bit.

I'm painfully aware of how thin I am, Todoroki thought for a moment as his equilibrium was chipped by vertigo. Even though I would prefer to be thin rather than bulky, I wouldn't go this far just to attain that preference. I'm just constantly reminded that eating anything is overeating. Yet, I still hate my reflection. I hate how thin I am. Before I had this weight limit, I only wanted to lose enough weight to be considered 'underweight,' but now, my habits haunt me. I'm too thin. But no matter how much I weigh or what I look like, I'll find one excuse after another to hate my current self more than my past ones—contradictory or not.

"No," Todoroki replied without emotion. "This wasn't something that happened of my own volition. I know it would make the most sense by connecting the dots, but I've always had a weak stomach." His final remark was authentic, but he'd utilized prevarication to his advantage.

If I jumped, Todoroki began to ruminate as another debilitating wave of thoughts besieged his head, I wouldn't have to worry about this. I was going to jump last night. It's getting harder and harder to act like myself. Even when I've found so much success these past two years with everything, I'm… It's just agonizing. Why? I could have it all going perfectly, and I'd still feel unlucky and unhappy. Even if Endeavor was the kindest father known to mankind, if Mom was back at home, if I had no family issues…living wouldn't be any less painful. I tell myself I'd be okay if I wasn't beaten for always being a disappointing waste of potential, but I wouldn't be. I've heard it enough to believe it. Even if it was all resolved tomorrow, my thoughts and views would be the same. I'd still think I'm a worthless disgrace. I'd still cut myself for every mistake. I'd still want to die. I'd still have nothing to stop me from giving another attempt a try. Well…

"…just said?" Bakugou growled.

"What? Sorry, I zoned out."

With a groan, Bakugou sibilated, "You're really a fucking asshole to make me repeat myself. Look, I want to believe you, and I'm damn ashamed to say I do, but for fuck's sake… Icyhot, one day, we're gonna find nothing but a pile of bones collapsed on the field. Does this not seem like an issue to you? Do all these issues that go hand-in-hand with each other not seem significant enough for you to go see someone for them? I mean, are you tryin' ta hide it?" Todoroki shrugged, but Bakugou was swift to slam down another verbal blade. "Don't bullshit me. This ain't for me. This is for you, much as I fucking hate to admit it. No one should ever be that thin. You realize the damage it's gonna do to you, right? It could be detrimental. Goddammit, it could literally kill you, Icyhot!"

"I'm not anorexic, though. I've been eating plenty, but it's still difficult to gain weight. What about your insomnia? Have you seen someo—"

"What did I just fucking say?" Todoroki flinched. "This. Ain't. For me. This is for you. Don't you dare run away from this. You're shaking. You're probably weak—you don't even have any muscle on you. You nervous? Maybe you noticed the alcohol, and I noticed that eye twitch when I interrupted you." He crossed his arms.

"What did I fucking tell you?! Every single day, you keep overeating. You're fat! Get on that treadmill. Now. NOW!"

Todoroki blinked away the memory lancing through his skull. "Maybe I am trying to hide it. Endeavor would think it's outrageous. I couldn't possibly have anything wrong with me, but that's hypocritical. All I am is a mistake, yet I'm expected not to have any problems. How does that make sense? It doesn't." He expelled a sigh.

So many lies with a truthful glaze…

"That's fucked up. Like, that's fucking hella fucked up… The victim ain't the mistake—the 'trainer' is. But, 'kay. I get that. Doesn't mean you can't go see someone. Y'know, there's a distinct difference between… I'll say it after the fact. You're a sharp one, and I hate it. C'mon, you're going to Recovery Hag for now. Know what? I'll even check in with her about myself. Sound fair? It better, or there's gonna be hell to pay."

None of it matters if I'm not going to be here, Todoroki thought to himself. 'The victim ain't the mistake.' Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better. I feel so hollow. Toss my feelings aside, forget what's in my heart. Kill the feelings of emptiness by falling for the lies used to convince everyone else of anything but the truth. Become a single being that encompasses all but itself. Say what they want to hear, but sprinkle in some truth to ease the guilt and make the overall lie more believable. Forget and purge the original. Let the artificial, inhuman one replace it. The original was never important. Forget, forget, forget. Let the world build it. Don't let it build the world. But which one is the artificial one? It resembles the original too much…or my memory of the original is diluted by the salient presence of the fake. I'm worthless. Nothing. A mistake. A failure. Damn, I'm getting more desperate to end this. I feel like I'm falling apart. Breaking insidiously. Damn. I keep zoning out. So far, I'll be adding seventeen.

"Fine," Todoroki finally muttered, and with that, the two silently trudged off to the infirmary.

After this ordeal is over, Todoroki began to ponder as a machination formed in his mind, I'm jumping. I've had enough. When the weekend comes, that will only be another series of crippling abuse. I guess I deserve it. I'm always a disappointment to everyone I meet. Even Bakugou. I shouldn't exist. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't have been entrusted with a heart and a life. I should kill myself. No one really cares about someone like me. Let me fucking die already… Obviously, I wouldn't want anyone else to think the fucked up things that I do, and I wouldn't want anyone else to think suicide is an answer to depression—or anything, really—but I'm tired of this. I'm tired of fighting through one day to suffer through the next. It doesn't end. As long as a today and a tomorrow exist for me, it won't end.

I hate knowing that I've woken up at all, Todoroki continued to think. I want to sleep…and keep sleeping. Feel nothing. See nothing. Think nothing. Do nothing. Be nothing. Let me sleep until everything is gone. Sleep. Don't let me wake up. I don't want to wake up. I don't want there to be another tomorrow. I don't want to be alive to experience another tomorrow. When will 'tomorrow' become nothing but an extension of 'today' where everything is the same, and time no longer passes? Never…until I turn myself into the bridge to connect them both and ultimately cause it all to crumble after becoming complete—seal the truth that every metaphorical existence is a lie. Fall so far that the soul can no longer affix itself to the body. Perform a lullaby for the heart until it sleeps eternally. But don't let them hear. Keep up the act while waving that baton behind the back. Let it slowly kill with silent notes. Until the silent ringing of the notes is unbearable. Take a bow without moving, and drown in the song that doesn't end.