Shouto Todoroki

The moment that Todoroki's first class of the day reached its end, Todoroki brusquely stood up. He clutched his left shoulder to obscure the glaring streaks of vermillion saturating his sleeve. Then, with his eyes pointed to the floor, he began to shuffle out of class.

While the propinquity of the door tantalized Todoroki's mind, his body came to a halt as Midoriya sidled up to him and avidly chirped, "Good morning, Todoroki-kun. How are you?" Midoriya canted his head.

I don't want to speak right now. I have to say something. Just speak. How hard is it to open your mouth and speak? Perhaps this is a sign that I should intentionally cut too deep so that I may cease to exist and therefore be unable to fuck anything up anymore.

A livid wave of dubiety crashed over Todoroki's mind as he parted his lips to speak, but no words flowed forth. He cleared his throat and silently peered over at Midoriya.

Why are you so fucking useless?!

"Ah…" Todoroki finally managed to choke out a strangled note from his voice. "I… I'm…" He paused for a transient moment. "Sorry, I couldn't find the words I was looking for." He plastered on a fake smile. "I'm doing great. Thanks for asking. How are you?" His grip on his shoulder tightened.

I must be fine if I can smile so casually and convincingly like this whenever I want, Todoroki thought while fortuitously slipping away from reality; Midoriya's words became but another row of waves in the ocean of Todoroki's mind. Other people can't do that. I can. I'm fine. I'm happy. But everything feels the same. If I'm fine, then…this is just what being happy feels like. Why should I be unhappy with having what other people so desperately want and are deprived of? I don't—

"Are you all right?"

You fucked it all up again. All you are is a mistake.

Todoroki nodded and silently blinked. "I… Yeah. Sorry, I'll see you in class." He offered the wave of his hand to Midoriya and veered off towards the restroom.

It's almost humorous how I can be bleeding out, but no one notices. They don't need to waste any time on me. I'm not important. I can't even live up to my expectations. I can't beat Bakugou or Midoriya, so I can't be at the top of my class like Endeavor expects me to be. I train until I fall apart, but it's never enough. I put everything I have into winning, but I fail again and again. No matter how many times I tear myself apart for my failures, I fail at the same things every single time. Better? Yes. Enough? Never. My body makes it seem like I tumbled down a slope of jagged rocks, and while I say it's from training, I do it all to myself. You'd think someone is abusing me, but really, I'm my own abuser.

Once Todoroki reached the bathroom, he scrutinized the room for any other individuals and rolled up the sleeve of his uniform. He expeditiously unraveled the bloodied bandages around his wounds and rinsed off his arm. Shaking his head at his shoddy job at wrapping up his wounds, Todoroki proceeded to staunch his open lacerations again.

This process was replicated twice more for the interludes between Todoroki's classes, but the third instance proved to be drastically different. It was lunch, and Todoroki felt as though his head had been injected with a bath of fog. He felt like he'd certainly faint, but every time he rested his head and drank a bit of water, the nauseating haze swallowing up his senses predominantly dissipated. So, he figured that he would dress his wounds again and isolate himself in the bathroom.

All I ever do is lie to everyone, thought Todoroki as he entered the bathroom. I lie to myself just as much as them. I can't remember what the truth is anymore because I believe the lies I've told myself. I know that. B—

"Oi." That signature, gravelly remark belonged to only one person Todoroki could think of. "The hell's with the blood on your sleeve?" With his chin lifted and his hands in his pockets, Bakugou tilted his head at his 3-A classmate.

Todoroki forced another fake smile onto his mien. "It's nothing, really," he replied while espying Bakugou's fierce posture. "It's more of a silly story. Why do you care?" His smile dissolved into a perplexed expression.

He doesn't. Anyone would ask about blood on a uniform at school, right?

Bakugou loured at Todoroki. "You expect me not to care about your sleeve being drenched in blood? What the hell happened?"

I'll go back to my dorm and skip the rest of the day. I don't care. I need to deal with the predicament I brought upon myself.

"I'm fine. Thanks for caring. Maybe I'll tell you later. Ah, I need to go." Todoroki pushed his way past Bakugou and promptly trudged back to his dorm.

It's ingrained in my mind to smile for others to hide how I'm really feeling, Todoroki mused once he stepped into his own bathroom again. Be their source of support when they need it. Be everything they could ever want. Pretend like I'm enjoying it. Like I'm happy. Well, I am happy. So, are these or are these not fake smiles? He feigned another smile for himself while thoroughly wrapping up his arm. I look happy. I have to be happy. Why wouldn't I be happy? Even if I said I felt empty, who would believe me when I can fake a smile so well?