Inferno

One

Winters were harsh, and you knew that. There was something about feeling the cold breeze on your skin that felt familiar, and reminded you that at one time you were loved. You were loved, and cherished greatly and though time had since passed, the bitter sting of the wind was a good reminder that it had actually happened.

You missed him, god you missed him so much it hurt. He had left nothing but the memories and a faint smell of smoke behind in your apartment. Part of you wished you had never met, if that were to ease the ache in your chest. You looked lazily to the balcony door. You should close it, you were going to get sick and you knew it but you couldn't bring yourself to move from the couch.

It was for your own good, or at least that's what he had said after the incident. It wasn't his fault and you tried to tell him but he wouldn't listen. You had been too close, too stupid and the large area marred flesh on your leg mocked you. If only you had listened to him, if only you had stayed put, Shouto would still be here. He would be standing in the kitchen, wearing that navy sweater he seemed to live in in the winter, burning pancakes. And you would eat them despite the charred edges because god it was just like Shouto to burn something as easy to make as pancakes.

Your stomach lurched and you hugged the blanket to your chest tighter. If only there was a way to make it go away. It wasn't fair, he had made the decision on his own. You knew it was his way of punishing himself for hurting you, disguising it as the right thing to do. He said it was safer for you if he kept his distance, this way, he wouldn't hurt you again.

It had been an accident, you knew that, and he knew that, but maybe a small part of him was afraid. Afraid he'd lose it again and hurt you worse. The burn was bad, you wouldn't lie. It was large, taking up nearly the entire right side of your thigh but you didn't mind.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you shut the balcony door, the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. You should go out, go see your friends who were obviously worried about you. But then, would he be there? Would he avoid seeing your shared friends for the same reason? You wanted to reach out, make sure he was ok but you knew that wouldn't help.

A walk then. A reason to take a shower, get dressed and go outside. And so you did, you showered, bundled up in warm clothes, wrapped the scarf Shouto had gifted to you last winter around your neck and stepped outside.

Soft white snowflakes fell onto your clothes, dusting you in the color that coated the rest of the street. The same bright white that painted half of Shouto's head. You shook that thought away, hoping to god it would go and stay. You wondered briefly if the rest of the world knew that number three hero, Shouto Todoroki, was single now.

The thought left a bitter taste in your mouth and an emerald fire of envy burning in your gut. Would he move on and date someone else? Or would he wait, wait until he was stronger, more in control of his feelings before risking it again? It wasn't fair, none of this was fair.

Dabi.

It was all Dabi's fault. He was the one who aired the Todoroki family's dirty laundry for the world to see. He was the one who put the pressure, the spotlight, onto Shouto. And he was the one who caused Shouto to freak. At least he was dead. It was something Shouto had mixed feelings about, something that you hoped to work through with him after their big fight. God you wished you could check on him, wished you could go find him and make sure he wasn't self sabotaging.

Hopefully Midoriya would help. Shouto did always have a soft spot for the number one. It was hard not to, afterall, Midoriya was the softest person you had ever had the pleasure of meeting. The idea of anyone disliking him seemed impossible.