❄️𝟙. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕀 𝕞𝕖𝕥🔥

                                    

                                          
*credits to bnha for this picture

┏━━━━°⌜ ❄️赤い糸🔥 ⌟°━━━━┓
                    Shoto Todoroki:
                 I don't need anyone
┗━━━━°⌜🔥 赤い糸 ❄️⌟°━━━━┛

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•─────◥
Todoroki's P.O.V.
Famous.
That's what I was. Or rather: eternally entitled to my achievements instead of my personality. Yeah, that sounds about right. 
But how could I complain? For everyone else, I was the son of Enji Todoroki, the biggest ice-skater in Japan. Well, not really the biggest... He was the second, to be exact. 
Still: everyone would only consider how lucky I was to be living in such a big house, with a good education, a famous father, and a talent for skating...
But none of them took a closer look at the appearances. What they'd call 'talent' were thousands of hours of practice, what they called 'a good education' was my father beating the hell out of me until I would faint if I ever dared to do less than he had expected. 
I came to despise most people consequently. 
I had siblings. Three, to be exact. A good thing, you might say? Not at all... My father forbade me to talk with them. They were 'too much of a distraction', as he says. So much of a distraction that he even forgot to care about them, to the point where my oldest brother, Touya, had killed himself.
On top of it all, I have a scar on my face, courtesy of my mom who had thrown hot water on it. I wasn't mad against her. How could I be... My father had traumatized her, and he didn't even think twice when he decided to send her to a psychiatric ward. 
Yes: everything was dark... To be honest, nothing seemed to cheer me up anymore.
But that boy had thrown light in the dark abyss of my life. That green-haired boy...
It was twelve years ago. 
══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══
'I hate him. Hate him. Hate him!'
I just... wanted to be a normal kid for once. I wanted to know what joyful feelings were like... But he never tried to understand me.
"Why are you crying?"
I froze. The sudden question made my whole body tense up. How come was someone there? Didn't my father book the ice rink for the day? 'I shouldn't answer,'  I thought. However, I somehow felt that I should. 
That voice seemed so soft...
Taking a glimpse up, I met the gaze of a boy around my age. If his dazzling hair and eyes were the first things that caught my eye, the constellation of freckles adorning his cheeks got my interest. It made me chuckle: he seemed like a menu of innocence. It was puerile. 
He walked closer, then kneeled in front of me. I tensed up even more. I would normally send strangers away. I wasn't sure what my father would do to them if they got too close to me, which made me deeply worried about this kind of proximity. 
But the kindness glimmering within his emerald eyes prevented me from pushing him away. He seemed utterly... nice. And I hated it.
His right hand inched closer to my face, until his cold fingers brushed against my skin. My heart skipped a beat. I stiffened due to the sudden touch. He gently placed his hand on my right cheek and did what no one had ever done: wipe my tears away and show me comfort.