Work Text:
“H-Hello…?” A soft voice spoke, staticy over the receiver. It was light and sweet like a child’s but had a sharp undertone that betrayed the maturity of its owner- the guy was probably somewhere in his early twenties, his own age. It also almost sounded familiar, but the volatile blonde seated at his dented metal desk didn’t pay that much mind.
“Hello, this is Suicide Hotline, thank you for reaching out. What's wrong?” Katsuki replied easily, leaning back in his chair. When he first got this job- something he’d done out of necessity, not choice- he’d been a mess, tense and ready to pull the spikes off his scalp with stress. It was a lot to handle, after all. Say the wrong thing and it might be the last words someone ever hears. Over time, though, he’d gotten better at it, gotten more used to it, and eventually reached a point he could relax somewhat, even on calls.
“I… Well, a lot. I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy, and I promise I won’t waste more of your time than I have to, but I just-” a sigh, “I don’t know. I thought maybe it was worth a try. Before I…”
The blonde sat up a bit in his seat, his focus narrowing to that voice and that voice only. This call was starting to sound like one of his more serious ones, and he needed to be careful. “Hey, you aren’t bothering me. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“Ah, but I feel like I’m just wasting your time. You don’t want to hear about my life. I don’t really even know why I called.”
Katsuki bit his lip- this is where things started to get tricky. The normal, scripted shit wasn’t gonna cut it anymore. He had to figure out what this guy responded to, how to make him open up. “If anything, you’re doing me a favor. I’m stuck here all day with nothing but whiny pre-teens and the occasional prank call to keep me company.”
He gets a small giggle out of the man at that and feels his chest warm with pride. “Okay… uh, what’s your name?”
“Why don’t you tell me first, mystery guy?”
“Um, well… F-For now, how about you just call me M? I would give you my name, but being at such a low point scares me, and using a nickname makes me feel more detached from all this. Or- oh, is that weird? I’m being weird, I’m sorry, I know that you probably don’t-”
“Oi, cut that out. It’s fine, you shouldn’t doubt yourself so much.” Katsuki replied, sincerity evident in his tone without even having to force it as he sometimes did. “You can call me B, then.”
“Okay then, um, B. You know, you... talk a lot like someone I used to know.”
“Is that so? Maybe it’ll be easier to talk to me, then. Tell me what’s been going on in your life.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s been going on in your life?”
Well. That was new.
“Hah?” He responded crudely, “The hell you wanna hear about my life for?”
Katsuki immediately cursed silently at himself for the uncouth response. He was taken off guard and forgot to filter his usual crassness. Surprisingly, though, M didn’t seem to mind. When the other male spoke, it sounded almost as if there was a smile in his tone.
“I would feel bad if it was just me talking. Plus, you seem like an interesting guy. I bet you’ve got a lot going on in life.”
Katsuki huffed, leaning forward on his desk to cradle his cheek in his hand. “Unfortunately for the both of us, I don’t live in an action film, M. Most eventful thing that happened to me in the past week was the time I answered the door in my underwear to sign for a package because I somehow forgot to put clothes on.”
And if Katsuki had felt accomplished before, he was preening now, M’s laughter traveling through the unknown space between them and settling right in the blonde’s ear. As he smiled at no one, the man found himself wondering how it was possible to find someone you’ve never even seen adorable.
“Now c’mon, M, and tell me what’s wrong. You called for a reason, right?”
“Ah, yeah, I did, but… I’m feeling a lot better, after talking to you.”
“You sure?” Katsuki asked, eyebrows raised. “You sounded about ready to give up when you first called in.”
“I know. I still… don’t really want to be here, if I’m honest, but I don’t feel as overwhelmed as I did before. Sometimes, all it takes is the right person, and the right words. I’m glad I talked to you, B.”
“Yeah. Me too, M. I’ll text you my desk’s number so you can call me if you ever need to, again. And try to get some help. Getting a diagnosis, getting treatment- that ain’t weakness.” Something that had taken Katsuki an entire high school career and most of college to figure out.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, “Yeah. Until next time, B.”
-
For the next couple months, Katsuki would get a call once every couple weeks. It always started with M feeling hopeless or, on occasion, crying and would always end with light-hearted banter. M didn’t talk much about himself, only divulging bits about his day during the rare times something specific happened. Katsuki would hum and get comfortable as he listened and, ultimately, end up talking about his day, too. It was comfortable. It was nice. And Katsuki found that, pretty soon, he couldn’t get that voice out of his head.
Which was why he was worried when he didn’t get a call for three and a half weeks. Every single day past the two week mark, he’d answered calls with quiet anticipation, hoping that one of them would be M. It was frustrating. Why did it affect him so much? Why did he care what happened to a stranger? Though, he guessed he couldn’t really call M a stranger anymore.
Sure, he didn’t know the guy’s name or what he looked like, but he knew his favorite food. He knew that last month M had gone to a party to meet up with some old college buddies and made a few new friends, a girl named Ochaco and a guy named Iida. He knew that M liked green and red and had a box under his bed filled to the brim with notebooks he’d filled over the years. Knew that he always pushed the sleeves of his dress shirts up to his elbows because he didn’t like the feeling of them buttoned around his wrists. Knew that he was paranoid about brushing his teeth too hard so he brushed them gently and did it for three minutes instead of two to compensate.
The blonde ran a hand through his hair, weaving the digits between the thick strands and pulling.
“Thinking about that guy, bro? Or did you just have a bad call?” A voice- not the one he wanted to hear, right now- inquired from somewhere behind him. Katsuki turned in his seat to face the dumbass, red-headed co-worker who also happened to be his idiotic best friend, Kirishima.
“Shut up.”
“So the guy, then. He’s probably fine, man! If he was seriously considering killing himself again, he’d probably call you.”
When the blonde-haired man didn’t respond, Kirishima continued, “You know, it’s kinda weird, you usually don’t get this worried about any of your ca- oh my god, wait. You like him don’t you?”
“Hah?!” Katsuki yelled, face burning, “The hell, shitty hair?! I don’t like him, I’m just- he hasn’t called in over three weeks! I have plenty of reason to be worried.”
“You totally like him! That’s so manly, you should ask him-”
“I don’t like him! I don’t even know what he looks like! Having a cute voice isn’t enough by itself.”
“But it’s not just a cute voice,” the other spiky haired male pointed out, lips pulled back in a toothy grin. “You’ve been talking to him for a while now. You like his personality, too, don’t you? Think it’s cute, too?”
Katsuki could feel the heat blooming on his face once again and grit his teeth. “Shut up, shitty-hair, I don’t have time for this.”
“So you admit you think he’s-”
An incessant ping and the flash of a notification on Katsuki’s monitor interrupted the red-head, cutting their conversation short. Kirishima gave him a cheeky smile, one that ensured the topic would be picked up again later, and a pat on the shoulder before moving back to his own desk, leaving the blonde to take this call.
With a heaving sigh, Katsuki clicked a button on his keyboard and answered the call. “Hello, this is Suicide Hotline, thank you-”
“I c-can’t… B, I don’t know how I can do this,”
Crimson orbs widened at the familiar voice. “Oi, calm down, M, it’s gonna be alright. Where’ve you been?”
“I’m- I’m sorry,” the man choked on his words, muffled sobs beginning to leak through the buzz in a miserable display of despair that had the volatile blonde holding his breath. “I just, I can’t- It’s so hard, B, I can’t keep doing it!”
“Woah, slow down, M. Tell me what’s going on.”
“I c-can’t just sum it up, B,” M stumbled, “it’s a culmination of things. It just builds and builds until it’s too much and I can’t do it anymore,”
Katsuki gripped the arm of his chair absently, “Then start from the beginning. I’ll listen.”
A sniffle, “I-I couldn’t make you-”
“You aren’t making me do a damn thing, M. I’ll tell you my life story, too, if you want. But you gotta tell me yours first.”
“Okay. Okay, I’ll tell you, I just… need a s-second,” M told him, hiccuping softly as he began to calm down. Silence stretched between them and Katsuki took the time to settle the rapid pace of his own beating heart.
When M started up again, his voice was soft and small, frayed at the edges like he’d been torn down one too many times. “I grew up talentless. Nobody expected anything of me. I was told, over and over, that I wouldn’t amount to anything, that I couldn’t do this or that, that I was destined to live an average, plain life and nothing more. I was constantly underestimated and it hurt.
“So I tried harder. I tried- I tried so hard! I went the extra mile. I got good grades and did the things people told me I couldn’t do in hopes I’d get the recognition I’d always wanted, in hopes that I would prove myself and be able to look kids like me in the eye and say, ‘You can do it’. I wanted to be a leader for the kids that didn’t feel like they were good enough and save them from themselves. Instead, I was told I was an ‘overachiever’ and kids my age only ever looked at me with annoyance or envy. Never inspiration or admiration. The adults clapped me on the back and told me, ‘Good job, keep it up!’ And I did.
“And in the blink of an eye it became normal. I wasn’t doing anything special or impressive, anymore. I was simply doing what ‘Deku’ always did.” That name had shock rocketing down Katsuki’s spine. That’s why his voice had sounded so familiar. “Anything less was abnormal and disappointing, despite the fact it was what everyone else around me did, and so despite the lack of recognition or pride in myself, I continued on.”
This was Deku. The kid he bullied when they were younger because he saw all of the things he himself couldn’t be in those viridian eyes. How did he not realize who M was sooner?
“When the stress got too much, my peers would simply tell me it was my fault, and the adults would just say, ‘Life is hard sometimes’ , ‘It will get better,’ , and my personal favorite, ‘People before you have done it, you should be able to do it too’ . Like that would- like that would make me feel any better! That’s just telling me I’m still not good enough! Even now, after I’ve graduated, after I’ve gotten a job, people still say that to me. What do I have to do to be worth something?”
Katsuki imagined tears tracking down a freckled face. Envisioned Deku older, more mature and beaten down, dragging his thin fingers through messy green curls as he cried himself to sleep at night.
“I thought… I thought being the best would make me love myself, that it would make me feel useful, and that maybe I could be someone’s hero- even if it was just in some small, insignificant way. But I’m an adult, now. I’ve made it, I have a successful career in science, and I still don’t feel like I’ve achieved any of those things.”
Katsuki saw himself, young and stupid, pushing a defenseless boy with intentions of gold into the dirt and telling him he was nothing. How much did he contribute to this? How much did he tear, break, shatter?
“My mom was always supportive, and tried her hardest to reassure me, but still, when I graduated college with a 4.0, I couldn’t help but feel like it didn’t really make a difference. I got a great job that pays well and allows me to contribute to society and my father tells me, ‘You should have done better’.
“And maybe I should have. As a child, I dreamed of being worth something. Dreamed of helping others and of making a difference. I don’t know how little me would feel if he saw me, now. He’d probably be proud, just looking from the outside in. A peek under the guise, though, and all that would be left is a child’s disappointment. He’d swear to be better, but realize sooner or later he couldn’t be.
This is the best I have to offer, and it’s still just not enough. I can’t do it anymore. It hurts too much.”
By the end of Deku’s spiel, Katsuki was speechless. His jaw flapped uselessly as he grasped wildly for something, anything, to say to comfort this broken man, to convince that voice on the other end of the line he wasn’t as worthless as he thought he was. But what could he say to something like that?
This was someone who’d lived a life of depression and self-hatred and cowering beneath the sharpness of cruel words. Nothing the blonde said could change that or put him back together.
Nonetheless, Katsuki would sure as hell try. His guts twisted with a need to save Deku; it was more than just the instinct to preserve life.
“Okay, M. Let me tell you my life story.” He began, “I grew up talented.
“Ever since I can remember, people expected great things outta me. So did I. And great I was. I excelled at everything I did. Most times, I didn’t even have to try. But I didn’t have any real friends- I was too cocky, rude, and self-absorbed. It was just the way I was and I couldn’t change that. At least, I couldn’t back then. Still, it hurt when I realized people only liked me for the things I could do and not for the person I was.
“So, when I met someone truly bright, someone who could make genuine friends so easily and gain the trust of anyone in a second, I turned on ‘em. Scorned them and took from them until they had nothing left because watching them made me feel lonely and less-than. I bullied them, for years, until the last day of middle school when we finally split ways.”
A small gasp sounded in his ear, and Katsuki knew Deku had finally caught on to just who he was talking to.
“Weighed on my conscience every single day after. I met people in high school, some of which followed me to college, who knocked me off my damn high-horse and taught me to be a better person. Even so, I didn’t start therapy until well into my college years. There, I really realized what a fucking asshole I was.
“Deku, I don’t know how long you’ve needed to hear this, or if you’ll even believe me after all these years, but Deku doesn’t mean useless. Not anymore.
“It means, ‘Do your best’ and I’m sorry for ever making you believe otherwise.
“You can do this.”
“K-Kacchan!” And there was that nickname, wet sounding with tears the blonde knew was accompanied by a wobbly smile.
Fuck, he thought, never thought I’d hear that name again.
He frowned.
Almost didn’t.
“Kacchan, y-you have no idea! You have n-no idea how much that m-means to me,” Deku hiccuped, “It was s-so bad, Kacchan. This was my only lifeline. It still is, b-but now I’m… I’m not alone anymore, right?”
“Tch, like I’d drop you after spilling my guts like that. You aren’t alone, nerd.”
Another strangled sob crackled in his ear, and Katsuki lifted a hand to the earpiece, cupping it as if doing so would allow him to actually cradle the green haired man and offer some comfort.
He wanted to see him.
“Deku, I- shit, this is gonna sound fucking weird. Where do you live? Or can we meet up somewhere? Or something?”
“Kacchan wants to see me…?”
“Why else would I ask for your address? ‘Course I wanna fucking see you.” Katsuki grumbled, battling the embarrassment creeping up high on his cheekbones. He’d long since abandoned his ‘work filter’. “If you don’t want to see me, that’s fine. Just thought I’d ask.”
There was a faint giggle over the line, and Katsuki’s chest warmed just like it had the first time, only with something different. “Of course I want to see you, too, Kacchan. I’ll send you my address.”
-
To say Katsuki was nervous was an understatement. He was sitting on the bus, forehead pressed against the cold metal bar next to him and his arms crossed over the front of his hoodie-clad chest. His leg had a mind of its own, bouncing wildly of its own volition as the minutes ticked by, each change of the clock bringing him closer and closer to the man he’d helped to destroy.
He was beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea, after all.
Before he could talk himself out of it, though, the bus lurched to a stop and the doors opened. Along with the clusters of other people with their own destinations in mind, Katsuki slipped out through the open exit.
The walk to Deku’s was a confusing and frustrating one. The nerd lived in Tokyo now, apparently, in some stupidly complicated district lined with building after building: high-rise apartment complexes, fat company buildings, what appeared to be a few labs, shops, and fancy restaurants- the only place there was any fucking breathing room was the small park in the midst of it all that was decoarated with a circular sidewalk, a fountain, a couple benches, and a tiny playground for kids.
It took about two hours to finally find the correct building and then another fifteen minutes to get to his apartment because, as luck would have it, the elevators were down and the blonde was forced to climb the stairs instead. By the time he reached the door, his nerves had all but dissipated, as he was just happy to have finally made it.
Raising a hand, he rapped his knuckles against the hard wood and waited.
There was a thud on the other side before the sound of footsteps made their way closer and the door was thrown open. And, holy shit, there he was. Curly green hair falling around his freckled face messily, chubby cheeks just like when they were younger but a strong jawline that hadn’t been there before, and long, dark eyelashes that accentuated his deep emerald irises.
Katsuki simply stared for a moment, pupils flitting across the features he once knew so well. Nerd had hardly changed at all.
“Wow, you’ve barely changed, Kacchan!” Deku echoed, and only then did Katsuki realize that the green haired boy was studying him, too. “Come in, it’s so good to see you again!”
Deku stepped aside, opening his door wide, and the volatile blonde stepped inside. His home was covered wall-to-wall in extensive hero merch. Nerd had always loved his comic books, so that was no surprise. What was somewhat surprising was the array of awards that hung from his walls and sat on his shelves. There were dozens of them, each more impressive than the last.
Just how much had he accomplished that Katsuki hadn’t known about? That almost no one knew about?
“Jesus, Deku, I’m surprised you aren’t famous.” He said, walking over to one of his trophies and examining it carefully. “How come I didn’t hear about you in the news or somethin’?”
“Ah,” Deku started, coming over to stand next to him, “Well, I don’t really do any interviews or anything. I didn’t want to seem cocky or like I was rubbing my success in anyone’s face, and the way I am right now, I don’t know if I could handle a lot of publicity…”
“No one would think you were rubbing your success in their face when you’re apparently the one who discovered a sterilizing cure for AIDS, you dumbass.” He told him, pointing at the award he’d been staring at.
Said dumbass flushed pink and a freckled hand came up to scratch at his cheek. “I guess I still just have trouble thinking anything I do is actually helpful or impressive,”
Katsuki sighed and grabbed the man by his loose navy shirt, pulling him into a hug. The greenette melted into the embrace immediately, becoming pliant under the blonde’s arms. For a moment, it was quiet, the green haired man silent as he was held.
“I think I need help, Kacchan.” Deku said eventually, breaking the silence.
“Yeah.”
“I think I’m gonna try getting therapy.”
“You should. You definitely need it.”
Deku pushed back slightly, then, gazing up directly into Katsuki’s crimson orbs. “Will you come with me?” He asked, quiet and hopeful.
Katsuki reached up and threaded his fingers into soft green curls, ruffling them.
“Yeah, nerd. I’ll go with you.”