Chapter Text
All he really felt in that moment was a rush, a huge rush of dizziness before it went blank, just to wake up on the ground of his dorm. It's cold- (it takes time to get used to how much these things affect his temperature balance.. The coldness of the floor feels grounding yet anxiety-inducing knowing something's wrong with him) and it's embarrassing, really, to know this is his reality now.
Not like this is the worst place he's passed out.
All it really takes is popping one pill. Flunotrazepan. Roofies. Date-rape drug. Forget-me pill. Whatever you wanna call it. Same thing.
It's not usually used for something like this, to do it to yourself is- not average. But, it's easy. To obtain.
Getting up resulted in a flash of pain in his side (probably from the fall), and a great amount of heaviness gaining on his eyelids like the world wants him to do everything but recover. Trying to place where he should put his hands and what's in the way of him getting up was difficult, he felt drowsy and lightheaded. When he finally stood up another rush of lightheadedness struck him like a truck and suddenly the urge to sit down or lean on something was unbearable.
Stumbling to the nearest desk was just a reminder of his unfortunately embarrassing situation, but he persevered to get to the next step. Feels like his whole life is just get to the next stage, and keep going.
The papers on his desk are half-done homework and notes, he must have been finishing them before he took the pill. It's hard to remember anything when he takes this shit.
What time is it? How long was I out?
He looks at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It's 6:10, twenty minutes away from when the majority of the dorms make dinner. He should really try to make it, or Midoriya’s gonna be concerned, as usual. The nosy bastard is always worried about Todoroki, You look sick, Are you sleeping well, You should eat a bit more! Heroes need strength-
It's too much for Todoroki. Too kind, too unwarranted. Frankley, if he wants to ruin his life, he doesn't need others stepping in as he does it. It only makes everything harder.
He closes his eyes and keeps leaning on his desk, trying to steady his feet and clear the fog in his mind. Breathing in slowly, out at the same pace.
Does he have time for a shower?
A quick one will do.
But, does he even look well enough to go to the communal showers? Will people spot him on his way there?
He takes his time slowly stepping around his desk and to the restroom, leaning on the nearest stable object each step. He slowly opens the door and turns to the mirror. He looks tired, drowsey, and has massive eyebags. His hair is messy and uncoordinated. He looks like shit.
A shower will help.