I have always admired Shoto. We were introduced to one another as children and I knew immediately that I would come to love him. Everything about him drew me in. His heterochromatic eyes. His two-toned hair. His smile which he only shared with me and me alone. I was cursed from the moment the boy stepped into my life. 

The symptoms began to show themselves around the middle of our second year in UA. Our friendship was as strong as ever and he always assured me that he would never leave my side. That he would always be my friend. That was the problem. I didn't want to be his friend anymore. I wanted more. I wanted to be able to hold his hand and claim proudly that the man beside me was mine. I wished so deeply for that reality to pass, but it never did. It never would. Shoto made it very clear that he had no interest in romance, he had confided in me that he was aromantic. He would never return my feelings. It was this realisation which caused red and white rose petals to fill my toilet bowl.

The moment I saw the petals, I was numb. The disease which had surfaced only a few years previously had struck me. As I watched the petals swirl around the bowl, my heart broke. I was going to die. The survival rate was 0.01% and the only cure was having your feelings returned. An impossible task. I was doomed from the moment I met Todoroki. Within 2 weeks I would die. Within 2 weeks, my entire body would be transformed into a garden for parasitic roses to grow. 

I didn't confide in anybody because I was too scared to. What would they say? I was supposed to be the confident vice-president of class 1A. If I shared what was happening to me, I would only upset the entire class. I know it was selfish of me, but I would rather everybody found after I was gone. So that I wouldn't have to deal with everybody's reactions. 

I kept up appearances. I still laughed with the girls, even if every laugh felt like a dagger to the chest. I still trained to the best of my ability, even if every movement sent pain ripping through me. I still hung out with Shoto, even if every second made petals and thorns bubble in my throat.

Every night, when I got into my room, I would spend an hour draped over the toilet. It was very undignified, but who was there to see? Every night, torrents of petals spewed from my mouth. If the situation was just a tiny bit different, I may have looked at those petals and seen them as beautiful or romantic. But, the situation wasn't different. I saw those petals as a physical manifestation of my curse. How I wish I could see the beauty of the petals. How I wish I didn't fall for Shoto Todoroki.

After a week passed, the thorns began to penetrate my skin. They pierced my body. My chest was littered with dozens of green spikes. They lined my throat and back. They climbed my arms. They spiralled around my legs. They were weaved into my hair. It was impossible to conceal them. Luckily, we had the week off due to an illness sweeping the school. Since it was extremely contagious, I just told everybody I had it so that I could spend my last week alive in isolation. I would give anything to see everybody's faces again. Shoto. Kyoka. Ochako. Izuku. Mina. Tenya. Itsuka. Mother. Father. I missed all of you. I missed everybody. I wanted to curse and scream. None of this was my fault. I didn't ask to fall in love. It was Shoto's fault. It wasn't fair to think that. Shoto can't control his sexuality. The entire situation was out of anyone's control. Yet, I wanted to blame someone. I needed to blame someone. So I blamed you, Shoto. I screamed. I yelled. I cried. It was pointless because I knew that it would do nothing to subdue my feelings. I knew that I would still love him. 

My heart constantly ached. I had given up on my appearance long before. No matter how much I washed my face, it seemed like there was always dried blood around my mouth. No matter how much I scrubbed at my hands, the thorns were still there. No matter how many times I ran a brush through my hair, rose stems still wound themselves through it, making my hair a rat's nest. I despised myself for letting myself fall. I just wanted it to end. I didn't care about the repercussions, I wanted it all to end. 

It's my last day alive today. I want to thank all of you for being there for me throughout my life. I know as your reading this letter my body is probably being carried away to a funeral home. I'm sorry. I know Shoto will blame himself. He shouldn't. Really, this is my own fault. I could have gotten help, but I didn't. At the moment, thorny rose stems are winding themselves around my body. They're thin and look so innocent. If only they were innocent. Some flowers are starting to bloom on my arms. The majority of the flowers are on my chest though. I think I could pick a bouquet from the amount on my chest at the moment. But that sounds a bit painful. I wonder if death will be painful. Ordinarily, I don't think it would hurt, but given my circumstances... It wouldn't do well to dwell on my impending death. This curse has already stripped me of my chances of life, I don't want it to strip my of my optimism. Life is a peculiar thing. So fragile. 

The time is upon me. I'm finding it harder to breathe now. There are definitely full flowers slowly climbing up my throat. I'm finding it hard to write this. It hurts. The petals are falling faster. I'll be gone soon. I'm sorry. I love you all. I love you, mum and dad. I love you Shoto.  

 -Yours Sincerely                                                                                                                                                              Momo Yaoyorozu 

Jiro's voice wavered as she finished reading the letter of her dead friend to the class. Everybody cried rivers of tears. Shoto was distraught, he had inadvertently caused the death of his closest friend. His childhood friend. The girl who meant the most to him. His heart ached painfully. He didn't want this. Nobody wanted this. And yet Momo was gone. 

The scene which had greeted Jiro when she went to check on Momo at the end of the week had been so beautiful and horrific at the same time. There was something artistic about the way white roses with red tips blossomed from Momo's mouths and eyes. There was something entrancing about the flower stems which wound their way around Momo's throat and braided themselves into her hair. There was something eery about the blood coated thorns which stuck out of her body like porcupine quills. Jiro didn't even realise she had screamed until nearly the entire class was gathered in their deceased friend's doorway, staring at her curled up body. 

OOF! That was a bit sad, wasn't it? There really wasn't any demand for this oneshot, but as I said in the description, I wrote this for myself. There wasn't really any Todomomo but oh well. Anyway, I hope you have a lovely day wherever you are and thank you for reading.