Work Text:
ec · ce · den · te · si · ast
someone who hides pain behind a smile.
~
Alone.
Todoroki has always been alone.
You’re not allowed to play with them.
You’re my son. You’re special.
You don’t have time for silly games.
You’re destined for great things, my boy…
At first, he didn’t mind. At first, it didn’t bother him. At first, it made him feel special .
At first.
Because when a father tells his child something, the child listens. The child has to listen. Because if the child doesn’t listen, then the father is forced to hurt the child. The father doesn’t want to hurt the child. But he has to.
This is your fault, boy. Remember that.
I didn’t want to do this, but you’re forcing me to.
This is the only way you’ll learn…
And Todoroki has always been alone, so he didn’t know any better. He didn’t know that fathers weren’t supposed to give their children angry red scars as birthday gifts. He didn’t know that fathers were supposed to make their children feel safe. He didn’t know that fathers were supposed to be loved, not feared.
Now he knows, but it’s too late. He’s alone. He has no one else.
Don’t you get it, boy? No one wants you. No one.
I’m the only one who gives two shits about you!
You leave this house, you’ll have nowhere to go. Nowhere.
You stay with me, or you go rot in a sewer all alone…
He doesn’t want to be alone. So he stays. Because if he doesn’t have his father, who does he have? His mother is in the hospital, his siblings are just as damaged as he is. And when everything is crumbling into dust, his father is the only one strong enough to hold him together. Because Todoroki is alone and he doesn’t have the strength to pick up the pieces.
So he stays.
It’s not all bad. School is a nice getaway, a daydream. Because at school he can pretend he is happy. He can pretend he is safe from the angry voices and the clinking of the belt. He can pretend everything isn’t shattering around him.
He can pretend he owns his life.
But even surrounded by so many people, all sparkling eyes and sweet encouragement and boisterous laughter, he is still alone.
Because when they talk about home, their faces light up. When they talk about home, Todoroki remembers that school is a daydream. That what waits at his house is his reality. And when they ask him: “What are you doing for spring break, Todoroki?”, “How’s your family?”, “What’s it like having a pro-hero for a father? Must be pretty sweet!”
He lies through his teeth.
“Nothing much, I’m probably going to just stay at home.”
He would never let me leave. He would never let me escape that damn house.
“My family is fine, just very busy.”
They’re broken. Everything’s broken. Can’t you see it? Why can’t you see it?
“It can be a bit overwhelming at times. What with the expectations.”
He’s choking me. Sometimes I can’t breathe. Sometimes I feel like I’m going to be crushed and nobody will notice.
Sometimes Todoroki stares at himself in the mirror, like he’s doing now. For what reason, he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s to check his injuries, or maybe it’s to remind himself how pathetic he looks. Either way, he waits until everyone has filtered out of the locker room, straining his ears to make sure they’ve all headed off to the cafeteria. He peels his shirt off, tracing the scars with his eyes, running his fingers in circles around the bruises, picking at the new bandages covering the lower left side of his abdomen. The locker room still stinks of sweat and cologne, the lingering traces of dozens of boys hanging in the air. He can still hear their voices in the back of his mind. Bakugou’s rough growl, Kirishima’s loud jokes, Kaminari’s shrill squawk of indignation. But most of all, he remembers Midoriya’s soft laughter. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The way his sweat damp hair stuck to the sides of his face. The way his gaze lingered on Todoroki for a moment too long.
No stop, don’t think like that.
He can’t stop. But then again, when has he ever had control over anything?
The images flutter illicitly behind his eyelids, wisps of memories, echoes of observations, things he’s seen and tucked away in the back of his mind from those times he allowed himself to look. Because that’s all he needs, all he deserves. Subtle glances, longing stares, the slightest brush of skin on skin, the faintest trace of that vanilla scented lotion Midoriya likes to wear.
He sees Midoriya running in the courtyard, school bag bouncing against his leg, sunlight tracing the ends of his green hair with gold.
He sees Midoriya arm in arm with Uraraka and Iida, eyes bright, head tilting back as he laughs.
He sees Midoriya with his arms around a sweet looking, older woman. Her hair just a shade darker than his, her face creased with age and without those familiar freckles. But beyond that, she has Midoriya’s eyes, the tender curve of his smile. She gets the same little crinkles next to her eyes when she laughs. And when Midoriya folds into her embrace with the ease of years of affection, she presses kisses to his cheeks so hard, his skin turns a lovely shade of pink.
Each and every time, he’s smiling sweetly. That’s another thing Todoroki noticed. He’s always smiling that great big grin of his that makes the sharp things inside Todoroki just a bit duller, a bit softer. Smiling, always smiling sweetly…
And that’s how Todoroki knew.
Midoriya has never wondered if one day his parent would snap.
Midoriya has never lived in fear.
Midoriya has never been alone .
Todoroki should hate him for it. Should despise him for having the perfect life. Perfect friends, perfect grades, perfect mother. Midoriya has it all. And for a long time, he was all Todoroki wanted to be , but now…
He was all Todoroki wanted .
But, Todoroki has always been alone, and that was never going to change. So he kept his distance. He didn’t want to taint Midoriya’s perfect little bubble world. He was content with keeping him behind a clear wall of ice. Able to be seen, but never to touch, never to hold. And if he ever experiences those few, fleeting moments of weakness, if he ever reaches for Midoriya’s warmth, he will always be blocked by the ice.
Cold, cold, cold, cold…
Todoroki doesn’t realize what he’s doing until the whole room is covered in a layer of frost, snow dusting the floor, breath billowing out in little clouds. He’s a little shocked as he looks around. He’s never let his quirk get out of control like this before.
Todoroki stills, ears pricked to hear if anyone has noticed a drop in temperature. But there are no footsteps hurrying down the corridor, no confused voices echoing through the hallway. No one realizes that the temperature in the locker room has dropped below 30 degrees Fahrenheit. But Todoroki doesn’t reach for his shirt. He stopped feeling cold years ago. Maybe because of how often he practiced with his ice, or maybe it’s because he doesn’t remember what it’s like to be warm.
Todoroki reaches out, scraping away the frost covering the mirror until he can see himself again. The purple-black of his bruises, the pale white of his old scars, the deep blossoming red seeping through the bandages.
Todoroki knows he will break. He knows that. Knows that like how he knows the sun will rise in the east and set in the west. Knows that like how he knows his father will ask him what his ranking in class is. Knows that like how he knows he’ll hear the belt buckle clink when he says “2nd.” And when he does break, no one will be around to hear him scream. Because he has always been alone.
He will always be alone.
“Todoroki, what’re you still doing in here? It’s freezi-”
Todoroki’s eyes widen. In the mirror, he catches a flash of wild green curls before someone’s hand clamps firmly around his arm, grip startlingly strong. He barely has time to register a faint whiff of vanilla before the person shoves him onto a bench, hands hovering over his shoulders as if they didn’t quite know what to do. Todoroki glances up, heart hammering in his throat. He suspected from the sound of the person’s voice, but-
“What happened to you?!”
Todoroki stares blankly at Midoriya, eyebrows raising at the furious edge in his voice, mind still processing the sight of green hair sprinkled with snow and freckled cheeks flushed red with anger despite the cold.
“Nothing.”
Midoriya purses his lips, eyes roving down to Todoroki’s abdomen, “This doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Well, it is nothing.”
Midoriya ignores him, biting the inside of his cheek nervously as he brushes his fingers against a particularly nasty bruise. Todoroki presses his lips together to stifle a whimper, but Midoriya catches him anyway and starts spewing apologies, hands waving frantically, voice stuttering on every other word.
“I-I’m so s-sorry! I d-didn’t m-mean to hurt you…” he takes a deep breath, hands clenching into fists by his sides, “I-I just need to kn-know.” And suddenly, there’s a sharp glint in his eyes that’s decidedly not Midoriya and Todoroki doesn’t think it’s a good thing.
“Did a student do this to you?”
Todoroki gapes at him, mind too numb to process words.
Midoriya leans in closer, distress clear in his voice and the way his eyes round with concern, “Todoroki, I need you to tell me. Did a student do this to you?”
“N-No,” he says slowly, distracted by how close Midoriya is to him, “I told you, it’s nothing .”
“Todoroki, please,” Midoriya shifts even closer, hands clamping down on Todoroki’s shoulders, mindful of the bruises, “You can tell me what happened. I…I know how you feel. ”
You don’t know , Todoroki thinks, keeping his gaze carefully neutral. Old feelings of bitter jealousy mixed with desperate longing coil tightly in his chest. You have no goddamn idea how I feel.
“You don’t have to be a-ashamed of this,” Midoriya whispers, “It’s n-not your fault. It’s th-their fault. For…for doing this to you!”
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
It is his fault. For not being good enough. For staying with his father. For always being alone. And even now, he can still hear his father’s voice, floating in from the cracks in the wall and the vents in the ceiling.
This is your fault, boy. Remember that.
“I promise no one will hurt you ever again, ok?” Midoriya rambles on, but Todoroki can’t hear him anymore over how loud the voices in his head are. The other boy’s mouth is moving, but no words come out. It doesn’t matter though, his eyes say it all. They blaze with green fire, whispering reassurances that Todoroki is too afraid to accept. And when he can’t bring himself to look Midoriya in the eyes anymore, he looks at his arms. At the tanned skin, the stray freckles, the smooth, pink scars zig-zagging from his biceps down to his wrists. But it only makes a sick, dark feeling rise in his throat.
Midoriya’s scars make him look like a warrior.
Todoroki’s scars make him look broken.
“Todoroki, are you listening to me? I said you’re not alo-”
“I am alone.”
Silence. Todoroki looks up and a small part of him, the part too twisted and poisoned to ever be salvaged, fills with dark glee at the look on Midoriya’s face. The confusion. The shock. The hurt.
He relishes it.
“I know i-it feels like that, but you h-have to b-believe me,” Midoriya doesn’t quit, his eyes still burning even as his fingers tremble and his lips start turning blue, “You’re not alo-”
“You have no idea how I feel,” Todoroki hisses, breath puffing out in clouds. He can’t control the words. They pour out in floods, dark and murky and toxic. “You’ve never had to live in fear, you’ve never been hurt by someone you care about, you’ve never been alone .”
“I-”
“It wasn’t a student.”
Midoriya falters, eyebrows furrowing as his lips part in confusion, “B-But then who-”
“Who do you think?” Todoroki stands, eyes glinting as Midoriya backs up. He can almost see the mental gears turning in Midoriya’s head, scanning through people and possibilities. It doesn’t escape his notice when green eyes land on a mess of scar tissue on his chest. Third degree burns. Midoriya’s face pales in understanding, eyes going wide in horror as he meets Todoroki’s gaze.
“You mean…”
Todoroki looks away, the words suddenly dying on his tongue. There are so many things he wants to say. Sharp, biting, poisonous things.
The great hero Endeavor isn’t as heroic as you think he is.
You want to be a hero, right Midoriya? Well take a good look at what heroes do.
You just don’t understand. You’ll never understand. You’ve never been alone. Not like I have.
But he can’t say them, not to Midoriya. He can’t bear to be the reason that bubble pops, the reason the light in those eyes dim. Because Midoriya has his whole life ahead of him. A life of hope and opportunity and meaning .
But this is all Todoroki has, all he is . Scars and nightmares and loneliness.
“You’re not the only one.”
Todoroki’s heart skips a beat, rage seething like a festering wound on his chest. Did Midoriya just… Did he just… How dare he-
Todoroki whirls on him, hands itching to claw and scratch and make something bleed -
Midoriya pulls at the hem of his shirt and lifts it over his head. Todoroki’s eyes widen, his traitorous heart leaps, his mouth goes dry as his fury evaporates into the air. Because oh gods Midoriya is taking his shirt off and what the hell is he doing doesn’t he know what people will think-
And that’s when Todoroki sees them. The scars.
There are dozens of them, as numerous as the ones on his arms. But these scars aren’t smooth and pink. They’re white with age, jagged, uneven. They look much, much older than the neat lines etched into his arms, much more painful. There are tiny little ones dusted across his collarbone, wider ones curling around his shoulders, the biggest one is a long gash winding its way down his abdomen. Todoroki winces, hand coming up to press gently on the bandages curled around his stomach, the sight of the old scar making him feel as if his own wound is being rebranded into his skin. A part of him thinks that it will look like Midoriya’s after a couple of years.
Midoriya levels his gaze at Todoroki, eyes clear and calm. His shirt is bunched in one fist, knuckles white. He trembles under Todoroki’s stare, from the cold or from being so exposed, Todoroki doesn’t know. His fingers move slowly, hesitantly, as if they can’t believe what Midoriya is doing.
“I got these when I was seven,” he runs a finger over the marks on his collarbone, voice measured, “My... friends ripped my shirt and shoved me into some thorn bushes. For fun they said. I tried to get out but every time I moved, the thorns scratched me. I had to wait there until a teacher finally noticed.”
Todoroki swallows, lips twitching as if he wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find any words.
“And this,” Midoriya rubs his thumb over the scar on his shoulder, “Is when they threw rocks at me outside the middle school. It was only the first week. I didn’t want to tell the teachers because I didn’t want to be that kid. The one who snitches when people just want to have fun .”
Todoroki closes his eyes, but he can’t get the image out of his head. A younger Midoriya, curled up into a ball, trembling hands covering his head and the back of his neck as jeering kids threw rocks the size of baseballs at him.
Two points if you can nail him in the stomach!
Oh! Oh! Three if you can get his head!
A twisting, sick feeling coils in Todoroki’s stomach. I am alone. I am alone. I am alone.
He gasps when his hands are grabbed, eyes flying open to see Midoriya standing just a few inches in front of him. Eyes filled with softness, understanding, and--he can finally see it now--pain. So much pain.
“And this one,” Midoriya’s voice is so soft Todoroki can barely hear him. The other boy takes his hands, guides them to the scar on his stomach, and Todoroki can almost imagine it when Midoriya first got it. Deep and red and agonizing. “This one was the only one where someone actually used their quirk. A boy, his arms could morph into swords. It was fascinating to watch actually!” Todoroki almost laughed. Because of course Midoriya could still be fascinated by quirks when he was being assaulted. “I think it was because I got a higher grade than him on a test. From what I knew, he studied hard for it, but still failed. He was convinced that I cheated somehow.”
Midoriya laughs then, and Todoroki looks at him with something likened to awe. This boy. This battered, bruised, scarred boy…
“I was alone for most of my childhood. I had a few friends here and there, but when the bullying started, they acted as if I didn’t exist. Like I hadn’t just laughed and talked and walked to school with them an hour ago. K-Kacchan and I were close once, but things changed and suddenly he was the one hitting me and pushing me and threatening me,” Midoriya’s brows furrowed, lips trembling, eyes fluttering like he was trying to hold back tears. “But he never left a scar. I always wondered why. He goaded everyone into hating me and beating me, but when he actually did it, he never left a scar. Bruises, yes, but no scars, never any scars.” Midoriya looks over Todoroki’s shoulder, eyes glazed, staring at years long past. “I’ve always wondered why.”
“Maybe because he didn’t want anything on his record?” Todoroki barely hears himself talk, heart beating too loudly in his chest. “He probably didn’t want to risk it.”
“Maybe,” Midoriya pouts, and Todoroki knows he isn’t convinced, “Maybe you’re right.”
Then he turns that clear, bright-eyed gaze on him again, and Todoroki can feel the fire in his veins igniting under those green eyes. “The point, Todoroki, is that I do know how you feel. I know what it feels like to be alone.” Midoriya presses so close, Todoroki can feel his eyelashes batting against his nose, his breath tickling his chin. “And I also know how wrong I was to keep believing that even when it stopped being true.”
Todoroki lets out a shuddering breath.
Don’t you get it, boy? No one wants you. No one.
But Midoriya wants him. Maybe not in the way Todoroki would like, not yet , but someday…
“I c-can’t,” Todoroki cringes at the break in his voice, “I don’t know how to…how to not be alone.”
Midoriya smiles that sweet smile again. But it’s different this time. Still sweet, but Todoroki can finally see how fractured it is. How broken. Like noticing hairline cracks in a clear glass window.
“Then I’ll teach you.”