Suicidal Todoroki x Midoriya | What it Means to Love

Prologue

Updated A/N:
this story makes me cringe every time i think about it, so please just don't read this. seriously. if you're going to read something from me, let it be anything other than this garbage. please. this story is an embarrassment. if you do decide to read this, honestly, just skip ahead to like chapter 50 when the writing is somewhat decent. you won't regret skipping at least the first half of this fic. i'm not kidding.

Izuku Midoriya

In class 1-A of U.A. High, I managed to ascertain my position among the other students in my class that practically gleamed with grandeur. Although my ingress into the class from what was quite the adverse debut in the U.A. Entrance Exams initially rendered the inept utilization of my quirk and combat skills in general as deserving of placing last on the roster, I didn't allow that to shackle my mind down. Instead, I rose through the ranks with immense doggedness and the salient desire to seize the title of the greatest Hero.

My relationships with my fellow comrades were considerably unwonted, but that may have simply been the result of my social awkwardness. The prime example of an anomalous relationship of mine involved my childhood friend, Katsuki Bakugou, who had been nicknamed "Kacchan" by my young self. Over the duration of merely a few months, I swiftly arrived at the revelation that I had an unquenchable desire to rival him and come out on top. Ochaco Uraraka was a benevolent, effervescent friend of mine who never ceased to stain my cheeks with cherry embarrassment. Tenya Iida, although astonishingly chivalrous and staunch regarding moral and school code, he never hesitated to offer me his hand. Denki Kaminari and Eijiro Kirishima were the two students in the class who managed to deftly maneuver themselves into the condescending mind of Kacchan, much to my stupefaction.

To say the least, I was overzealous to have the privilege of enrolling in the class with such exceptional students aspiring to one day become formidable heroes. However, there was one discrete student that I failed to fathom. His name was Shoto Todoroki, and he was the son of the Flame Hero, Endeavor. He seldom spoke, and whenever his voice pierced the air, his fell words were rancorous and void of emotion. I recalled making an attempt to speak with him, although the sequence of events which derived from my idea ultimately fed the effulgent flames of an emotion I was admittedly mortified to say I felt; that emotion was incandescent anger mixed with the inauspicious ice of hatred.

Never once in my life did I think twice about truly detesting someone, and I didn't deign to accept the notion that I "hated" Todoroki. After all, my interactions with him were minimal, therefore rendering my initial perceptions of him as mere conjectures. I lacked any shards of evidence connotative of his past, save for the fact that he was Endeavor's youngest son with dual quirks. Similarly, I couldn't quite comprehend why it was that his enigmatic mien was interminably desiccated and blank, why his heterochromatic eyes were saturated with a desolate vacancy, or why he himself seemed to exude a begrudgingly virulent aura. In spite of my recondite knowledge pertaining to him, I still felt as though his presence at U.A. was an anomalous outlier—albeit that I acknowledged his overflowing potential, but I frowned upon his actions.

Within the first two weeks of attending U.A., I yielded to my perfervid curiosity regarding Todoroki and decided to pluck up the courage to confront him. The solitary and stolid student would brazenly dismiss others with his candid remarks, but more frequently heard from him was silence. Manifest was the fact that he evaded any and all human interaction possible while remaining reticent about himself when said interaction was required of him. These queer behaviors had piqued my interest, and I began to question if it was the case that they had stemmed from an ulterior source that Todoroki was simply concealing. As such, I internally inquired as to whether or not he was supplicating for a hand to grasp beneath his blasé countenance, mask, facade, persona, or whatever he might have classified it as.

Once our teacher, Shota Aizawa, dismissed class for the day, I mentally noted that Todoroki had been the sole student who had yet to stand from his desk. Before I could approach him, however, a hand on my shoulder caused me to stifle a reactionary yelp and jerk my shoulders up.

"U-U-Uraraka-san!" I stuttered in a state of discomfiture as my heart bucked frantically in my chest succeeding its suffering from a miniature heart attack. "What do you need?" I slung my bag over my shoulder and met Uraraka's beatific gaze.

Although grinning, Uraraka leaned in towards me and whispered into my ear, "Deku-kun, I know what you're gonna do. Trust me! I already tried talking to him to see if something was wrong, but then he told me to go away because I was 'in the way,' as he said." She then pulled away from me with her brows furrowed. "I know you're still going to talk to him, but I don't want you to get hurt, Deku-kun. Be careful, okay?"

I released a soft sigh of relief after hearing Uraraka's precautionary remark since a harrowing shiver shuddered through my being prior to hearing Uraraka's direct quote from Todoroki himself. "Y-Yeah, I will." I displayed a timorous smile as my cheeks were gradually mantled in a light pink hue. "Thank you, Uraraka-san." She reciprocated a smile and waved jubilantly at me before sauntering out the door.

Only two people remained in the classroom; it felt as if the air had been transfixed by a frigid lance of ice. A thick, viscous submersion of air into honey glazed with ice encompassed the classroom.

Todoroki hasn't left yet? I cerebrated, fiddling with my fingers as I sluggishly forced my body to turn. He didn't even look at us when we were talking about him. I-I mean, was he able to hear us? From the distance between us, he shouldn't have been able to hear, but I still don't know. As if my torso had been rusted hinges, I pried my body away from my thoughts to take a quivering step in Todoroki's direction.

Once I whirled around to face him with an unsteady equilibrium, I could see that he was staring down at his desk as if he had been a torpid puppet detached from the world. On the inside, I lightly cursed myself for entertaining the thought of speaking to him in the current conditions I was provided.

H-How am I supposed to approach the unapproachable like this? He'll probably get mad at me or brusquely brush me off because I'm in his way. I couldn't have picked an o-opportunity more adverse than this, could I?

Mustering up a feeble excuse for confidence, my legs began to march towards Todoroki's desk autonomously. Wait, wait, wait! I'm not ready to face him yet! Ignoring my desperate pleas to flee from the harrowing situation, my body continued to idly walk in Todoroki's direction as if it had been pulled by the thin strings of a puppeteer.

"I am cognizant of your approaching presence, Midoriya," Todoroki aridly murmured in his sonorous, monotone voice that felt as though it reverberated throughout the classroom. Despite claiming to have been aware of my approaching presence, his eyes were still fixed on the desk; those empty eyes seemed to be staring down at his hands or arms.

Crap! "T-Todoroki-kun! Uh, I—"

Sighing a visibly glacial breath of air, the boy with a dual-colored division of hair in a vivid red and frosty white and heterochromatic eyes felt as if his gaze perforated my soul. He's terrifying! "You are an impediment to my silent atmosphere." His eyes of turquoise and storm-gray daggers cut through my skin like physical blades.

"S-Sorry. You just kind of look like you're lonely, and maybe even...sad." I ceased to move towards him, but I never took a step back, so I suppose that I remained stationary. "Umm, I just wanted to know if th-there's something on your mind, or if there's anything I can do for you." Once again, I began to tap my fingers against each other.

His frigid eyes narrowed to half their initial width. "Lonely? Sad? No." He removed himself from his seat and gripped his bag in his hand. "I suggest you stay your asinine queries." Like an inexplicable storm striking down, Todoroki's inky aura shrouded my body in an eerie film of ice as he walked past me. As swiftly as the freezing, blistering sensation of ice scratched at my skin, it dissipated as he passed me.

No thanks or anything, huh? I thought while my expression began to twist into a lour. Uraraka-san and I both tried to confront you, but you turned a b-blind eye on us like we didn't mean anything to you. If you're going to push everyone away when all we want is to help you, then so be it, Todoroki. If that's how you think you should t-treat others—like disposable objects—so be it...

A/N:
I apologize for how silver-tongued Todoroki is in this story, and I also apologize in advance for characters being ooc, words being improperly used, the terrible plot, how boring the former half of this fic is, and yeah. I need to edit this story. Badly—