Work Text:
Izuku stared blankly down at the glowing screen in his hands. He just scrolled through article after post after newsfeed with an unflinching expression. Everything was the same. It had been for a few years now. Just a wall of negative text and videos. Nobody ever really noticed the good anymore.
Good deeds didn’t make money.
But heroes making mistakes? The right photo could make someone a fortune...
Izuku signed, pressing the button on the side to bring the world around him back into darkness. He stuffed it in his pocket and adjusted the mask as he shuffled along the street, three miles to his oversized home. He had used to take the train, but all the looks and snickers had finally gotten to him. It wasn’t like 3 miles was too much either, he could probably use the extra steps to help burn off countless nights of “accidentally” binging down a gallon of ice cream when things got hard.
He really needed to stop doing that…
His feet felt heavier than normal tonight as they thumped of the icy steps, sliding his key in the knob and pushing the door. It scraped along the tile of his entryway, creating yet another scuff line in the divot it had managed to dig into the ceramic. Izuku groaned and shut the door, hearing the dull screech as it scraped back over the same spot again. He looked down at it then turned slightly to the hinges. The door needed to be rehung. It needed to be rehung for the past five years.
He really should fix that…
Later maybe.
Yeah, later was fine. He was too tired right now.
He shrugged off his jacket, speaking softly as he slung it over whatever nearby wasn’t covered in junk, “I’m home…”
Silence.
He didn’t know why he always said it when he walked through the doors in the middle of the night. Nobody was there to reciprocate a “Welcome back,” or ask him about his day. Which was a real struggle again today, as was yesterday. And the day before. And before that… And that…
Izkuku actually couldn’t remember when he last had a good day if he was honest.
He clicked on the light as he peeled off his shoes and tossed them aside. His mother taught him better, but nobody was around so it wasn’t a big deal. He could always put them away another time.
He stripped off his outer layers, until he was in his underwear, right there in the middle of the entryway. He did at least throw them into a corner as he made his way to the bathroom. He slid open the medicine cabinet and rummaged for one of those heartburn tablets, stopping as he pushed aside a few nearly full bottles of heavy-duty pain meds. They were left over from the multitude of injuries he had sustained while being a hero. After Recovery Girl passed, he had to deal with them more in the old-fashioned way. But these specific painkillers just made him feel worse. Hurting from broken bones was bad enough, but violently puking while hurting from broken bones was absolute hell.
He there they sat, probably long expired.
He should really flush them...
He found the tablets he was searching for, popped one in his mouth, and chewed it as he made his way past the living room to the kitchen. He was hungry but didn’t wanna cook. Maybe he had something to just snack on.
He opened his fridge. Nothing but beer in there. He forgot to go grocery shopping again. He should do that later...
“Ah… That’ll work I guess,” he mumbled softly, reaching in and grabbing a can. He cracked it, the airy hiss of the seal breaking piercing the solemn silence of the room. He didn’t bother making the effort to check the rest of the cupboards, planting himself into a corner of the family-sized couch that only served as a second bed. It wasn’t like his bed was uncomfortable or broken or anything. It was just too big. It was cold. The couch held him in a way that made him feel less alone at night.
He groaned as he pushed away the week-old beer cans and take-out boxes on his coffee table, searching for the TV remote. He should really get those cleaned up and tossed out...
But he just clicked the TV on and watching the same cooking shows on the streaming app that he always did. The same shows. Every night. It was either that or the news and he had enough of seeing his face plastered on there today. He didn’t like how he looked on screen anymore. Had his eye bags really gotten that big? He looked terrible... But of all things, he didn’t like reading the headlines even more.
So he messed up sometimes. He’s human. Even as much as he tries, he just can’t do everything alone and he does things maybe a little wrong or differently from time to time. The way the media made it look, he was faltering every step.
He’d be a total liar if he said it didn’t affect him.
No, it had actually done much more than that.
After all that happened in high school, after all he and his friends had gone through… The world was making him out like he wasn’t any good anymore. Every tiny thing he did, every hair out of place, he was targetted for.
He was more elastic as a young man, surrounded by supportive friends, and was able to bounce back much better. But as an adult? Alone, exhausted, and overwhelmed?
Those strong walls straight up melted down like sugar cubes in hot water.
A few beers later he finally turned the TV off and just pulled an old blanket that desperately needed washing off the floor, curling up on the couch. He had to rest a little at least before dealing with it all again tomorrow.
He breathed deep to keep his emotions in check as his mind acted like its own personal villain, torturing him with thoughts and realities until he finally passed out.
The next day, of course, he was late and got yelled at when he finally arrived at the agency. He would have been on time, but he had to paint on his mask. He had to put on that perfect smiling face, that shroud to make the world believe Hero Deku still stood strong against all odds.
If the public really knew how he was, he’d plummet in ratings more than just the mid-twenties he’d fallen to since he turned 30.
It had been a few years since then. His 30th birthday came and went. The only present he was given was several media groups claiming he was too old and should retire. Like he was some sort of football player that got too many concussions.
He had tried to reach out to some friends, to maybe go out for drinks or something, but that of course didn’t happen.
Iida and Ochako barely acknowledged he existed anymore. They got together not long after a failed fling between Izuku and Ochako left them not speaking anymore. They had gotten married by the time they were 24, and Izuku hadn’t been invited to the wedding. Neither of them even let Izuku give his side of the story over what happened. There wasn’t much he could do about it, and it plagued his mind ever since.
He’d lost two of the most precious people in his life over a misunderstanding.
He even still had a present he bought for their wedding when he heard. He had intended on sending it to them after everything. It was still wrapped, sitting in his closet just collecting dust.
The rest of his friends dwindled away after that. Between their own lives or taking sides, eventually, all that was left of his old friend’s group was Kacchan.
But even Kacchan wasn’t around. He’d moved away, too far to just visit when he needed company. They texted and messed with each other on social media once in a while, but it wasn’t what Izuku needed.
He needed someone there.
He’d lost count of the times Kacchan sent him an invite like, “Hey nerd, I’m in town this weekend. I’m taking your shitty ass for a beer!” He also lost count of how many times he got excited, waiting at the bar they agreed to meet at only to get a “Something came up, we can hang out next time,” text. He would have thought he’d stop hoping at some point, but it got him every time. He knew he’d be left behind again, but he still waited. He needed to just stop. But this was Kacchan. He was sure he would be there next time.
Next time. He was sure of it.
His mom? Yeah, she was around. But that wasn’t what he had needed either.
With his work, dating and meeting new people wasn’t exactly an option. But he had still tried. People either just fanboyed/ girled when they realized who he was, or straight-up ditched him.
He guessed he had become one of those “love em or hate em” type of heroes after a while. He honestly wasn’t that surprised.
It didn’t bother him so much at first, but the first time someone walked into a coffee shop and saw him, sneered then walked right out… That stung. And just as one might expect, it happened more than once. It happened enough that it became expected.
After 4 or 5 years of it, Izuku just gave up.
Someone even hacked his old dating profile and tried to scam a bunch of folks. That went over wonders with his PR group, and his rating dropped at least five spots because of it. He needed to fix that. He should have deleted that profile. Actually, he still needed to… He should do that later…
Therapy was an option. Actually, no it wasn’t. If anyone even so much as caught a glimpse of his messy green curls walk into a psychiatrist’s office, things would only get worse. It would be the first thing he’d see on tabloids all over the place. It’d be in every corner store, every gossip app, every hero blog… And if his agency caught wind, he’d be put on suspension from Hero duty.
Izuku would rather eat his own dirty underwear than do that right now. He already had way too much going on, he didn’t need something he was doing for himself to get him in even more trouble.
Speaking of underwear, he needed to do laundry. His hair needed a trim too. Not right now though. He could do it later, maybe tomorrow…
Right now he needed to focus. There was a villain he had to deal with before he could even think of dealing with anything else, so he steeled his mind and set to the task.
By the end of everything, the villain was in custody and a little girl was crying and calling Izuku horrible names. Cameras filmed everything and multitudes of bystanders took photos and posted them to social media.
Everything from the girl crying to her throwing mud in his face. Even people in the crowd were hating on him, calling him a hater and other, much more vile things.
It wasn’t like he did anything wrong really. Izuku saved every person within the danger zone and made sure not a single one was injured.
Every PERSON…
Even though he managed to save every human, he never even noticed the little girl’s dog that was cowered behind a trash can as the villain sent a car flying. In his defense, neither did the other heroes trying to help, or the police. He was pretty sure nobody in the crowd did until it was too late either. But it didn’t matter. Izuku was the one who could have, but didn’t catch the car after it was sent flying his way. Instead, he dodged and took the opening as his chance to capture the villain. He chose to stop more destruction from happening, putting an end to the fight entirely. He made the right decision… Right?
The media sure didn’t make him feel like he did.
He went home feeling vile, rummaging the medicine cabinet for more heartburn tablets like it was a ritual, and glancing at those old pills. Ah, he forgot to flush them again. He should do that. But first, maybe there’s a snack in the fridge that he won’t throw up.
Wait, he forgot to buy groceries again. Oh well, maybe tomorrow.
Case of beer.
TV cooking shows.
Stinky blanket.
That night he cried himself to sleep. He woke early at least. He made coffee and managed to motivate himself enough to at least clean off that coffee table. Not that it did much in the long run.
His house was too big and it was a mess in every single corner of the building. He never should have bought it to begin with. It was just more room to keep shit, trash hiding in corners, food containers and cans all over, clean unfolded laundry mixing with dirty bits just floating around like the bad smell that kept coming back. Izuku never could figure out what the source of the smell was. And he was always too tired to clean. Too tired to fold the laundry. Too tired to wash the dishes that spilled over the sink and across not just the counters, but the stovetop too. But that was fine. He was too tired to cook anything on it anyways. He ad something in his fridge that he was pretty sure was cooked last Christmas. Or was it Halloween? Whatever, it didn’t matter.
His mess had become horrifically comfortable. It almost felt appropriate, like he didn’t deserve a clean home.
And he didn’t have any reason to clean.
Nobody came over, so why bother.
The last time anyone besides his mom visited was before Kacchan moved. Even his mom didn’t visit for the sake of it. She stopped by once in a blue moon to drop something off, usually food, then leave.
Nobody had been over for so many years. The whole point to buying his home and not renting a small apartment, was so he and his friends would have someplace safe to entertain, stay when visiting, or even just to chill once in a while. At the start, they had some fun. There were a few game and movie nights, but it ended pretty quickly. Izuku felt really stupid about it now. He was stuck in a hefty mortgage for nothing. And now he had no friends to even “chill” with.
Nope. Izuku was all alone in the house. Nobody was around to notice the half a centimeter of dust accumulated on photo frames or his precious All Might figures. He was sure if Kacchan ever saw it he would wring Izuku’s neck. But Kacchan wouldn’t come over. Even if he had hope peek in his stupid head every time he got those texts, he knew better.
Kacchan wasn’t going to ever visit. Nobody would.
Even the notebooks on his desk were coated so much in trash and dust that you couldn’t make out which number the notebook was.
When was the last time he wrote in one?
When did he stop writing in them?
Oh well. Time to don his guise and head out.
Smile painted on? Check.
Hair and uniform presentable? Check.
Clean underwear? Oh crap. He forgot to do laundry again… Well, he could go without them today. It was better than wearing a dirty pair at least. He’s wash clothes when he got home. Maybe.
Man, he was tired today. But later for sure. For now, work.
Work. Work, work, work…
It’s all Izuku did. And he did his best.
Work.
Walk home.
Heartburn tablet.
Beer.
TV.
Stinky blanket.
Every day.
Eventually, he managed to do a grocery run and a load of laundry on a day off. He killed time by just waiting for the day to end, scrolling through his phone.
He should put it down. It wasn’t good for him…
But he continued to scroll. More posts of his failures. More hateful blog posts and hate mail.
Oh, there’s one about Kacchan! Izuku clicked it so fast and immediately regretted it. There was a post with Kacchan alright… With a beautiful woman on his arm, and gold bands on both their left hands.
When did Kacchan even get a girlfriend?
Why hadn’t he said anything to Izuku?
Nothing, not even a word.
How long have they…
He found himself laughing, gripping his hone so hard the screen cracked as he stared down from the edge of his couch. He laughed, tears falling as if they were desperately trying to glue the shattered screen back together.
He laughed, his phone fizzed and went black as green sparks zipped around his arms.
He was right. Kacchan wasn’t coming back. Now he really was alone.
So he just slept. Waking the next morning he moved slow. He reached for his phone so he could check the time.
Ah… He broke his phone. He would need to replace it.
Maybe later.
First... Time to paint.
Smiles came harder to force from there out. He was just so tired. Forcing it was exhausting and he just wanted to rest.
Day after day, the mask chipped away, and with it, even his routine was simplified.
Work.
Walk home.
Heartburn tablet.
Snack.
Beer.
TV.
Stinky blanket.
Work.
Walk home.
Heartburn tablet.
Beer.
TV.
Stinky blanket.
Work.
Walk home.
Heartburn tablet.
Beer.
Stinky blanket.
Work.
Walk home.
Stares at stuff in the medicine cabinet.
Beer.
Stinky blanket.
Work.
Walk home.
Stares at stuff in the medicine cabinet.
More Beer.
Stinky blanket.
Work.
Walk home.
Lots More Beer.
Stinky Banket.
Work.
Walk home.
Stares at stuff in the medicine cabinet.
Hard Liquor.
Floor.
Izuku’s rating plummeted, regardless of how hard he worked. Regardless of how much he did his best.
He was just so tired.
He finally snapped on a miserable day. It was cold, he’d just gotten stabbed to save a guy who was so ungrateful. The man punched him right in the arm he had taken a 7inch knife through, all because Izuku didn’t save documentation over his pathetic excuse for a life. He snapped, on live TV. Everyone saw him lift someone half his size off the ground with one hand grasped tightly under his collar. Everyone heard him roaring with fury into the man’s face, tears pouring down weathered, sunken cheeks and blackened eyes from lack of care and forced pride.
Everyone finally got to see past the painted smile. They got to see the mask shatter.
And it wasn’t pretty. But finally, they saw.
It would have been a great eye-opener if it hadn’t been too late.
As the Media does, they capitalized on the incident, portraying Izuku as “Feral,” and “Unfit to continue working as a hero.” His agency watched his ratings plunge within hours. 70. 90. 150… 300…
Izuku was put on leave, “Pending an investigation,” which every hero knew meant indefinitely.
His hero career was over.
So he went home.
He ignored the grass that was up to his knees and brown, and stared at the spraypaint over his doors and windows.
“Freak”
“Villain”
“Nut Job”
“Psycho”
“Has-Been”
“FALSE”
Ah… Someone must’ve found out his address and leaked it.
Were those eggs on his wall? What a waste. Someone could have eaten those…
He didn’t even bother with whatever it was smeared on his doorstep either. But it certainly smelled like shit. Figuratively and literally.
But he didn’t even wrinkle his nose. It didn’t matter.
He opened his door to that rough scuffing being the only sound to greet him home.
His routine changed. Now he didn’t work. What was he going to do now?
That was simple. There were other things he still could do with his routine. So that’s what he did.
Beer.
Hard Liquor.
Stinky blanket.
Floor.
He continued for as long as supplies would last. He didn’t realize just how much beer and booze he had. Most of it was old and was probably about as tasty as drinking vinegar, but he didn’t care.
It did the trick, that’s all that mattered.
Eventually, his stomach needed something to at least ease the amount of pain countless blackouts caused. So he backtracked one step to his routines, stumbling half full of whiskey to the bathroom.
He stared at the reflection of himself in the mirror. Was that really himself? How long did it take for him to grow a stubble enough to actually see? He didn’t think he could grow any facial hair. It was patchy too. Gross. He’d shave later.
Right now his stomach hurt.
He opened the small door and stared at the boxes and bottles inside. His eyes gravitated to those familiar, old orange bottles. He really should do something with those…
Katsuki watched the news that morning. Seeing the gentle greenette he grew up with lose it made him spit his coffee all over the kitchen table. He was proud of the nerd at first, glad he finally stepped up. But then he got a closer look.
Izuku looked... Thin? When had Izuku ever been thin past middle school?!
Katsuki paused the TV and immediately called some of, who used to be, their mutual friends. He made them turn on their TV or look the clip up to get their opinions. Most didn’t want to get involved, which really shocked Katsuki. When had people who once loved the nerd no longer want to deal with him?
Even Kirishima, “Ya man, I get it but… You know how it is, we can’t… We can’t really show association to him cuz of all that’s going on. It’s not like I don’t like the guy or anything, Midoriya is a really great guy.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, if he’s such a great guy why don’t you show some damned support as his friend!?”
“Bakugo calm down please, I don’t like it any more than you, we can’t take his side. He snapped. And on a civilian!”
“I do that every fucking day!”
“It’s different with you Bakugo, that’s kinda your thing! Mido was… Well, he wasn’t you ya know. You know how PR gets with things like thi-”
Katsuki didn’t let him finish that. Other than Izuku, Kirishima was his best friend, and he thought he would be the only other person willing to stand up for Izuku, “FUCK YOU AND YOUR PR BULLSHIT EXCUSE! You talk all this shirt for years about being manly, then you fucking act like a God damned coward, leaving a friend you can physically see is in trouble, to rot! This isn’t some fucking extra, it’s Deku! Izuku Midoriya! The guy we all helped fucking bring home when he was out there sacrificing his own self to save all of us from harm! He almost fucking killed himself for us and here all of you are sitting with PR’s thumb up your ass tickling your fucking prostates! FUCK YOU, WE’RE DONE YOU UNMANLY PIECE OF TRASH!”
He even called Iida and Ochako. He sure got an earful from them and gave one in return.
What the hell happened these past few years?
Why didn’t Izuku tell him anything when he visited?
It was then that Katsuki froze, nearly dropping his phone.
Izuku never told him anything, because Katsuki always bailed on him. He always found something more important to do than hang out with his oldest friend. Just what were those stupid things anyway? Some hot chick at a hotel? Some tabloid wanting an exclusive with hero Dynamight?
How could he ever think anything like that mattered more? WHY did he?!
He’d never dialed a number so fast. It would have taken him more time to use speed dial than it did for him to type out Izuku’s number and call it. It went straight to voicemail. So he called again. And again. And again. He sent texts and e-mails, social media messages, and even went so far as to contact his agency after not hearing back for several days.
“I am so sorry Dynamight sir, but I am afraid Hero Deku is no longer with our agency,” was the only reply he got.
Oh, he was furious. How dare they…
He was on the next flight out, leaving his very upset fiance behind. She expressed herself as an “Anti-Deku” after he snapped, and that alone was enough for Katsuki to be willing to dump her ass. Which later he did, giving her another one of his iconic, epic ass chewings. But this time he wasn’t just screaming. He was sobbing. Yelling at her through an empty hall adorned with too few flowers, in a building that SHOULD have been packed to the rafters with friends and family, fans and associates.
Instead, after the dump of the century, he sat with Inko, both holding each other’s hands in an all but empty room. A beautiful, closed casket stood alone, quiet at the head of the room. A teal tattered hood and an old silver mask laid atop the rich lacquered wood.
The casket was empty. They both knew it. They knew because it was Katsuki who broke down Izuku’s front door and stepped inside. He didn’t know what hit him first… The smell, or the empty orange bottle that rolled away from his foot when he walked in.
They sat as long as they were able. As long as they were allowed.
As they left, there was one lone reporter, dressed appropriately in black and sans a camera. A young boy wearing an old Hero Deku pin. He gave them both a soft bow with a sorrowful expression before getting into his vehicle and leaving without a word.
No media horde. No friends showing up late. Just silent guilt lingering heavily in the air.
Katsuki choked back another round of pathetic sobs as Inko looked around as he opened the passenger side door to the car for her. She didn’t understand any of this. It all was too unfair.
She sounded so small, so broken, “Katsuki… Where was everyone?”
Katsuki grit his teeth.
That… Was an excellent question.