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He is burning, scorching. He feels His eyes on him, hot as the flames licking up his face. The scent in the air is putrid, burning flesh stinging his nose.
Weak, those teal eyes scream, Useless, disgusting.
The smoke is so thick his lungs wheeze and stutter as he burns, burns.
Can he even tell whose flames they are anymore?
Maybe he is destined to be his own demise.
His legs buckle and suddenly he is yelling, screaming, his vocal cords shredding and burning like everything else around him.
His nails bite into his arms as the flesh simmers, tearing away from his body as if it can take him no longer. His knuckles would surely be white with his grip if not for their sickly purples and reds.
You could have been strong, he trembles as the pounding footsteps grow closer.
How ironic, for shivers to wrack his body as His flames incinerate anything, everything in their path. The booming voice is distant over the roaring of the flames.
His eyes gleam a cold teal, no warmth to be found. For one moment, he is suspended, he is no longer burning. He breathes, his fingers unclench, and with sudden clarity,
How sad, Todoroki Touya.
The flames engulf him.