Chapter Text
Katsuki wasn't stupid.
He had graduated from a prestigious high-school among the top students of his class, and considered himself a pretty cultivated person. He loved to watch documentaries while cooking or to read before bed. He had enough discernment to see that although he liked being a hero—it was the path he had always longed and worked so hard for—, he sometimes felt like this life wasn't exactly… for him. He wanted to save people, and he did. But the whole hero fanfare was starting to get on his nerves. In his four years of career, he had found that being a hero was more about parading himself, attending charity galas, navigating interviews and PR work, and in rare cases stopping a bank robbery, rather than the action-filled life he had always pictured, rescuing civilians from the utmost dangers and everyone recognizing him for what he was: a victor. Instead, he often felt like a glorified cop, the only thing separating them being that he was a celebrity and his whole shtick was making explosions. That was it.
It was unfulfilling, to say the least. He was number twenty in the rankings, a rather impressive number for a beginner, but a number that could be way higher if he actually took PR seriously. Apart from taking pictures with civilians in the streets and that one charity event Kirishima had dragged him to, he didn't feel like losing time with this bullshit. Rankings didn't mean shit, he had had this realization pretty early on in his career. They were just an indicator of which celebrity the public liked more, not an indicator of who was the best, or who saved the most people. In summary, his professional life wasn't fulfilling, and his personal life wasn't any better.
His trigger moment happened on a random Wednesday. He was spending the afternoon with his parents, as they had been nagging him for days to visit, and quite frankly, he didn't have anything better to do. His mom was going on about her life; how they had launched a new winter collection, the yoga classes she had recently attended, her upcoming annual two-day spa retreat with Auntie Inko, a new recipe his father had tried. He liked listening to her. Although he had quite the explosive personality, he truly was more of a listener than the one who took most of the conversation. Their relationship had been rocky during his adolescence, but after going through so many hardships together, they had both put in efforts to mend their bond, and it paid off pretty well. After his mother was done ranting about what she had been up to, she naturally returned the question. Blank. He flatly recalled the car accident he had prevented this morning, but she interrupted him, ruffling his hair:
"Stop talking about work, you're too young to be married to your job! What else have you been up to?"
Blank.
"Nothing."
His mom seemed to notice his thoughtful gaze, as she didn't probe any further. The afternoon was cut short a few minutes later, but his gears were turning.
Katsuki wasn't stupid, but he was impulsive. He sometimes made stupid decisions. Being a hothead was oftentimes considered his biggest flaw. Nevertheless, this was the best spur-of-the-moment choice he had ever made. A few weeks after the conversation with his mother, he applied to university, as part of a new program which made adjustments for students who worked as part-time emergency workers, like firefighters, EMT, or heroes. The following semester, he was officially starting his bachelor's degree. Sure, changing to a part-time schedule earned him some public backlash and a brutal drop in the rankings, but he needed to get out of this hellhole. He needed to do something else with his life, like a man desperately needing a breeze of fresh air after running on recycled oxygen for years.
Currently a chemistry undergrad, he finally felt somewhat happy, or at least happier than he had been in years. His friends had almost all called him some flavor of crazy for wanting to come back to school after their hellish highschool experience but no one had downplayed his decision or made fun of him. Surprisingly, Uraraka had even sent him a text—he didn't even know how she got ahold of his number—to express her support of him trying out new things and figuring himself out. They had lost contact over time, not that they ever were close to begin with, but their last interaction had probably been on their final day of school over four years ago, tension-filled and avoidant gazes.
This special graduate program allowed him to attend class like every other student, but with a more flexible schedule and the possibility to justify potential absences due to his part-time job as a first aider. He was always available for dire situations and still went to work at his usual agency on the weekends. It was tiring, but not in the same way it had been before. Sure, juggling between his job and his studies was tricky, but he made it work. He was under pressure, just like every other student, but this time it felt right. Like his life finally meant something, something for himself. Being on call for emergencies only allowed him to save people without having to deal with PR stuff. He didn't completely toss his career to the side, as numerous tabloids had first suggested. He still went by his hero name, still wore his hearing aids decorated with his hero costume colors, he still saved people. He still mattered, where it counted most.
Something to know about Katsuki, though, was that despite being a hothead, he was also a professional overthinker. Both statements contradictory but co-existing all the same. His problem was overthinking after taking rash decisions. His therapist had shared quite a few words with him on the topic. Maybe that was why he chose chemistry. The rules were simple: understand the concepts, learn the formulas, apply what you've learned. He didn't have to pull random ideas out of his ass and write a ten-pages-long essay about it. No, chemistry was complex enough to be stimulating and easy enough to get the hang of. Never backing down from a challenge, though, he thought it would be interesting to pick a random elective for his final year of university. He had learned so much already, but it kind of felt like an addiction, never getting enough.
Following his therapist's advice, he decided to select an additional course—for extra credit, of course— in Quirk history. He had narrowed down his list until it came to that or to something astronomy-related. Ultimately, he chose the latter, as it appeared as stimulating as the other option but less time-consuming. It was a new course, and it sounded interesting enough. It added a challenge to his studies, and as it was only an elective, he could always drop it if it became too much to manage on top of his actual degree. What was the worst that could happen?
This particular situation turned out to be one of the rare instances where Katsuki felt like he should've ignored his therapist's advice and stayed in his comfort zone.
What the fuck. What he fuck what the fuck what the fuck.
This could not be real.
Sat in the back of the room, he sank against his workspace as though he was trying to merge with the wooden surface. Standing straight in front of the board, casually organizing the papers on the front desk, stood Deku in the flesh. Obviously, he should've thought about this eventuality. His mother had mentioned something about him moving away from his countryside college to pursue his doctorate in a bigger city. Never had Katsuki imagined that he would be here. This wasn't even a scenario out of his most ghastly nightmares, as the possibility had never even crossed his mind.
What the hell.
Passing him across the hallway or exchanging tense glances was one thing. He could've gotten around that. Having him as his teacher was another.
It's fine, he told himself. You just gotta make it unseen through the end of the class and then drop the course.
He could do that. Thank god Deku didn't seem too keen on taking attendance.
The worst part was that the class seemed really interesting, though. Of course, there was the lingering internal freak out, which sounded like a constant string of oh my god oh my god oh my god, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Deku. Hanging from his lips, he couldn't help but notice the subtle changes about him. He appeared to be a bit taller; platform shoes or a second growth spurt, Katsuki would never know. He had lost the fat in his cheeks and his tan skin held a waxy tint. His eyes seemed hollow but sparked once in a while, as he animatedly discussed something he was clearly passionate about. Unknowingly, Katsuki has straightened up in his chair, wishing to take a better look at the teacher. It felt wrong to be in the same room after six years of wishing he would never have to see him again, and yet so right, as if having the other out of his sight had taken a piece of him away in passing.
Katsuki wished he could make himself invisible and go up to the front row to get a better look at those green eyes he had terribly missed. Green eyes who suddenly found his, in between the dozen tired faces separating them.
His breath stuttered and it appeared Deku was feeling the same way, as he abruptly lost his train of thought, falling silent. He recovered quickly enough and resumed talking like nothing happened, though Katsuki could feel his gaze burning a hole into him, and he suddenly seemed unable to detach his eyes from him. The blond felt hyper-aware of his own existence, like his senses were cranked up to maximum level. He could make out the noises of his throat when he swallowed his saliva, he could perceive the fabric of his jeans rubbing uncomfortably against the chair and indenting his skin, he could sense the hotness coursing through his neck, spreading to his cheeks and ears, the fever-like dizziness overtaking his mind.
Soon enough, the class was over, and he bolted out of his chair, not even taking the time to stuff his supplies into his backpack but carrying his laptop in his arms like he would a baby, and running towards the classroom door.
"Kacch- Katsu- Wait!"
Katsuki wasn't a coward.
Or maybe he was.
He wasn't a coward, but he ran away, ignored the calls of his former classmate—though this designation couldn't even begin to describe the complexity of their feelings—and mingled with the stream of students moving from one class to another to try and lose the other man. That was so stupid. Taken aback, he couldn't even grasp the absurdity of the situation. He isolated himself in a deserted hallway and slumped against the wall to catch his breath like he was a stupid coming-of-age movie protagonist. He clutched at his chest, trying to calm his overexcited heart. It had been years since his vital organ was healed enough to not cause him any problems, but he still felt like he was about to pass out, ears ringing and breath short. What the hell had just happened?