#i havent written and posted any kind of fanfic or drabble since like 2014 lmao

[redwrites]

Death, Watch, Coffin

From a prompt to use those three nouns.

A drabble taking place in Todoroki’s mind after his match against Bakugou.

(I haven’t watched/read this part in a little bit so I apologize for any inconsistencies/canon divergence.)

The next moment, Todoroki awoke to a sore back and a cold, aching feeling radiating throughout his body. But the bed felt familiar, the ceiling looked familiar, and the scratching of a pencil on paper sounded familiar, so he allowed himself to relax. If he was here, then his last match had ended, and judging by how horrible he felt, he deduced he had lost. So he chickened out in the end, refused to use his left side against Bakugou when it mattered. It would’ve likely been for the win, too. He closed his eyes again and sighed. What a disaster. He wasn’t even in the mood to warm himself up. He deserved to lie in that cot, cold and miserable. 

Todoroki didn’t want to think about the disappointment that would roll off his father in waves of heat the next time they met. He didn’t want to think about the many “Better luck next time!” messages he’d get from his classmates. And Midoriya...he really didn’t want to think about how Midoriya would react when he returned; the sadness in his eyes would be too much. 

“They’re asking for you.” Todoroki opened his eyes again to see Recovery Girl leaning over him. “I stalled for you, but you really should join them in a few minutes. The ceremony will start soon.”

---

Standing on the podium and trying to look distinguished was a difficult task considering who was standing next to him and what he was doing. Todoroki stared forward, purposefully ignoring the explosive glares coming from beside him. Bakugou was really bringing the class’s reputation down, but Todoroki couldn’t help but think it was partly his fault. If he wasn’t so damn wishy-washy--

He hardly felt the medal hit his chest, his body still cold from his earlier fight. In fact, he really didn’t feel anything; it was like he was watching himself from outside his body, responding to All Might stiffly and mechanically. The whole situation felt wrong and alien; he shouldn’t be up on that podium, next to two classmates who put their all into any situation. He didn’t deserve second place. Someone else should be standing in his spot. Someone like Midoriya.

---

In his dreams that night, Todoroki saw a coffin. He floated above it, feeling much like his dissociating body earlier in the day. The coffin sat uncovered in the dirt with flowers surrounding it. He didn’t need to move closer to know who lay in it; frost gathered at the edges, and a slight icy sheen covered the polished wood. This was his future if he refused to use his left side, if he let the chill take over. In this future, he denied his flames to the point of his body freezing over, never even allowing them to warm his frostbitten body. This version of Todoroki took his pride to his grave. 

---

When Todoroki woke up the next day, he stared at his left hand intently, though it didn’t look any different than the day before. An end like that wasn’t satisfying, he decided. Maybe Midoriya was right. Maybe it was time for him to become his own person.