Shoto Todoroki Oneshots

La La La

Then voices accompanied the smashing. Unrestrained, raw, and almost unbelievable, he could hear the screeching voices of some of the other teachers. Why were they arguing? What was the big deal? What was wrong? Had they done something wrong? Had he done something wrong? Were they mad at him? Would they tell his father? Would Endeavour come and find him? No. No. He- he didn't want to go back. He didn't want to get locked up. No. He didn't want to train.

So that's how he found himself pushing away his chair and standing in the corner of the room, trying to hold himself together until the shouting became so overwhelming he lost sensation of his body, the only feeling was the scraping of the wall on his back as he crouched down on the ground. Focusing his gaze on one part of the floor he tried to ignore the yelling and shouting, imagining himself somewhere else where he was safe. His dorm room, that would work.

He didn't register the shuffling of feet around him, or the quiet gasps that left his lips as he tried to retract his breathing, nor the figures that approached him before drawing to eye-level. The blur around him shifted with movement, and he hoped it wasn't his father. He questioned every action he had made the past week, trying to figure out which one was wrong and worthy of punishment.

It was only when another loud slam was interrupted by silence did he blink and look up. Momo and Bakugou were crouching in front of him whilst a few of their classmates left the room, he guessed to go and see what the shouting was all about, and he saw something in Momo's hands. Headphones. Specifically, the noise cancelling ones he kept in his dorm. Had she made another pair?

Before he could even say a word, Bakugou's hands that had been covering his ears were swiftly replaced with the noise cancelling headphones, and the duo in front of him held thumbs up, silently asking if he was okay. It took his mind a second to catch up on what was going on before he nodded his head; Momo smiled whilst Bakugou passed over his phone, gesturing for him to choose a song.

Now playing: Natural - Imagine Dragons 🎵

He showed his choice to Bakugou who then nodded in approval before talking to him; Shoto had to lip-read his words.

"You good now Icyhot?"

He nodded again, not daring to speak when he was matching his breathing with the circles Momo was drawing over his palm. When she looked over to her she gave him a warm smile that put his at ease, he trusted her to be honest with him. Turning back to Bakugou, he opened the notes app and asked:

"What happened? Did we do something wrong? Are they mad at us?"

"No. No." Bakugou was quick to re-assure whilst making a cross with his arms. He quickly looked over to the door and saw the students come back in. "Just dumb teacher shit." he signed.

Todoroki tried to push away his unease, cursing himself for becoming so weak just thinking about his father, imagining how he would try to defend himself if he entered the classroom to remove Shoto whilst his classmates could do nothing but watch. The fear, humiliation, and anger brewed in his stomach and he gripped onto his shirt whilst unknowingly zoning out again. The music became white noise, a rush of static in his ears that made a headache form, the noise turning into a- 

A scream, one that felt and sounded exactly like his mother's when she was on her knees and holding her face and screaming at his father to leave him alone. When she was leaning so dangerously towards the edge, nothing left to lose as she screamed her throat raw as her youngest child was dragged away from her, her body limp and useless, her face showing complete agony. Why? Why did it turn out this way? Why? Why did he have to be born? He caused his mother to suffer. His fault, his fault, his-

A sudden jarring sensation on his arm made his eyes shoot up, frowning at the hand gripping his left forearm with white knuckles. It was hastily removed and only faint red marks that disappeared instantly gave any sign that someone was grabbing him in the first place. The blast of energy, a spasm up his arm, was just the explosions he had grown to anticipate during training.