Always tired (bnha agere)

Chapter Thirteen: Ouch

Cw: ah OK big content warning for mental instability and self harm, some Endeavor things

He shut his door. It was 12PM; quite a while before he usually got up. Sleep had barely come. He'd drifted in and out of it throughout the night. So, so tired. He stared at the wall. Somehow, he'd never felt this completely alone before. Why'd he been acting so cold?

Snatching up his phone, he went to his call history. It was filled with "Father - MISSED". He never answered or at least he avoided answering when he could. The sound of his father's voice could make him shudder. Throwing his phone onto his bed he paced about his room. Sick, sick, sick!

Why did he have to be stuck in such a life, born without choice to a legacy he could never live up to. It wasn't his fault! He'd never asked to be the son of Endeavor. But now, that's who he was, the reputation - it hung off him like a putrid smell. Ice and flames, an unmistakably powerful quirk and what had he ever done to deserve it?

Nothing was ever fair. He dug his nails into his face and grit his teeth. He felt so sick and wrong. Everything was wrong! He didn't deserve anything. He'd never live up to the reputation of his father or All Might or any pro hero. Izuku, Uraraka, shoot even Katsuki had the confidence to be heroes.

Todoroki crouched down on the floor. His skin burned more each second as he continued digging his nails into his face. Where was his drive? He was the disturbed love child experiment of quirk fusing. He had no skill - he got "lucky".

Shoto's head was clouded, no it was absent. He couldn't stop thinking about how pathetic and truly undeserving he was of everything. He despised his father but still not as much as he hated himself. Why did he have to feel like this? He was a show off. Some poor kid hadn't got a place in the hero course and that was because of him.

Todoroki's fingers travelled across his arm. Why was here, again? He bit into his arm. Too much was going on in his head. Pain seared through his arm - saliva sliding off it. His knees shook. So he sat there. He didn't want to, he couldn't get up. Was there anything of worth waiting for him in his future or was it just more darkness? Was he chained here forever?

He was terrified.

Did he have to be alone? The teeth marks on his arm, the pink, torn areas around his fingers, they glared back at him. Here he was again. By himself. It was like a curse. His sadness was a curse that bound him to loneliness - to solitude. Isolated again.

Leaning against his bed, he shut his eyes and swayed gently, nursing his arm. He was so very cold. Often he didn't mean it or even do it intentionally. So many times he just miss read what was going on. It was late. The sun wouldn't rise till later. Did he need to go to school today? He felt too ill to but at the same time, he was too scared to be alone.

It was comforting for him to finally feel the pull of sleep. He let it take him. The rich, onyx sky hadn't offered much support. The moon hadn't said a word. There on the floor, he at last, slept.