Learning to Fall

“Katsuki, dude, you need to take a break at some point.”

He should’ve known the coffee hadn’t come for free; Eijirou had just shown up and shoved the mug into his hand, he hadn’t had the time to think better of it before he was taking a sip. Stupid Eijirou and his weird, innate understanding of how to trap Katsuki in a conversation. He really needed to stop being friends with the guy, or something, just to make his life a little easier.

“I’m fine,” Katsuki said flatly, when he’d swallowed his mouthful. He’d learned that reacting how he wanted to react just made his friends talk even more shit, going on about ‘outbursts’ and ‘exhaustion’ and ‘overstimulation’ or whatever; so neutral it had to be.

“You’re not fine,” Eijirou said, too softly. Asshole was trying to do that whole gentle-parenting thing again, but like hell was Katsuki gonna fall for that. Again. “How do you expect to keep working if you’re exhausted all the time?”

“I’m not.”

“Bro.”

Katsuki gritted his teeth. He really just needed all the idiots to stay out of his damn way and let him do what he needed to do. That was the one thing that would actually make his life easier – or at least, the one thing within the realm of near-future possibility. Of course they wouldn’t give him that one, though. They were too busy nagging and worrying and not listening when he told them how important it was for him to keep working, while he had the chance. If he took too long... He shuddered to think.

He couldn’t stop, not now. Couldn’t run the risk of letting someone get hurt on his watch; couldn’t let anyone think he wasn’t strong enough to handle it, that he needed someone by his side to help him again; couldn’t let anyone blame themself for not being there to stop it, if something major went down before they could be a part of it. He just needed to work a little bit harder, put in just a few more hours, get a few good capture bonuses or something. If he could just do that, just a few times a day, they’d be ready to go in... still too long, but a lot less long.

“Hanta told me about your spreadsheet,” Eijirou continued. “Your health is a finite resource, Katsuki, you can’t just work eighteen-hour days every day of the week to speed things up a little bit. Stop putting unrealistic numbers into it and getting obsessed with the output. We’re all working hard to help, okay? You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

“Fuck off,” Katsuki growled, slapping away the hand that reached out to him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Katsuki,” Eijirou sighed. “I’m serious, man. We’re worried about you.”

It wasn’t Katsuki they should have been worrying about. There was someone so much more important to think of, someone who mattered so much more, had done so much more, who deserved...

“I can do this shit,” he said firmly. “Some people can’t, but I can, and I’m not gonna stop because a couple of assholes who call themselves my friends think I need to take a nap.”

Eijirou gave him that stupid sympathetic look, that one that said I understand, you know, and I can help you if you just let me in now that he’d given up saying it out loud, after Katsuki got fed up and finally blasted him in the face for it. At least the asshole had finally gotten a haircut for once, after Katsuki had scorched it a little.

“If I do the graveyard tonight for you, will you go home and sleep?”

Katsuki paused. He did appreciate it when his friends picked up extra work, after all. None of them did it often enough, that was for fuckin’ sure, but when they did do it, he tried to do that whole positive reinforcement thing his parents and teachers had always bleated about. It never seemed to work, but he at least tried.

And he could always just tell Eijirou he’d gone to bed, right?

“I know that look,” Eijirou said, cutting off his plotting at the pass. “I will set up a damn baby monitor in your room if that’s what it takes.”

“Fuck off.”

“Please, Katsuki.”

Katsuki hesitated again. Eijirou was so damn sincere about his pleas and concerns, even if they were pointless and unfounded. Of all people, if he was going to leave the shift to someone, Eijirou was a good one to pick, right? He trusted Eijirou, not that he’d ever say that out loud. Time and time again, Eijirou had proven himself capable of surpassing his own limits to come through in a pinch. If shit went down, Eijirou was one of the few people that Katsuki wanted to have at this side, wanted to know was watching his back. If anyone could handle it, he could.

But there had been so many stupid villains around lately, trying too hard to do something impressive, getting weirdly desperate and making insane decisions all in the name of getting on the news, or something. Katsuki wasn’t even sure why they did it, in all honesty. So many heroes had slowed down their work, had cut back their hours, saying there was no need for so many heroes anymore, but in Katsuki’s world that just didn’t seem to be true. He wasn’t sure what everyone else was doing that he wasn’t, to have so much free time on their hands, but he was kind of afraid to ask, in case he really had been missing something obvious.

And sure, most of those villains were pretty easy captures, just cannon fodder to get him paid, but wasn’t that exactly what a villain would do to get all the heroes to let their guard down? The moment Katsuki stepped away, the moment some dude hiding in the shadows realised that he’d left his area to someone less familiar with it, or less experienced in the field, or god forbid both, he’d be stepping out into the light, taking advantage of the crack in their armour to take them all down. People would get hurt; heroes, civilians, it didn’t matter, they’d all get hurt, if they were caught off-guard.

Katsuki refused to let his guard down.

“I’m fine,” he said again, draining the last of his coffee and handing Eijirou back the travel mug. “I have to go. Thanks for the drink.”

“Katsuki...”

“See you tomorrow at that prisoner escort job,” Katsuki said, already walking away. “Don’t forget about it, this time! It’s worth good money!”

“I’ll be there,” Eijirou assured him, a weird tinge of sadness in his voice that Katsuki refused to look too far into. “Take care, Katsuki. Stay safe.”

Katsuki flipped him off.

This time, Eijirou didn’t follow. Katsuki let out a little sigh, thankful that it was over. The interruptions were growing more and more frequent, it seemed like every day someone was on his ass, acting like he couldn’t keep up. He knew his own body, knew when he could push and when he needed to take a step back. He still had so much more to give, they were just underestimating him, looking down on him like always, and—

He took a deep breath. Slowly let it out again. Then one more.

They weren’t looking down on him. They were concerned for his wellbeing, because they were his friends.

In. Out.

He didn’t need to get back into that mindset again, fall into that shitty place. That would warrant some concern from the jerks, and he didn’t need to give them ammunition. He was pretty sure they’d straight-up lock him in a bedroom and stand guard at the windows if he started that again.

In and out.

He ran a gloved hand through his hair, grimacing at the way it stuck to his forehead again the moment it fell back into place. Summer was amazing for his quirk, but it sucked for everything else. He glanced in a shop window as he passed, to make sure it wasn’t too obvious that he was sweaty and gross, but instead he locked in on his own eyes, staring at the redness that seemed to have radiated out from his irises to take over his entire eyeballs, a dark heaviness beneath them that he hadn’t noticed the last time he’d looked in a mirror. Maybe it hadn’t been there, maybe it was a new addition. He suspected not, though, considering the way his friends had been looking at him. He felt fine, even if his expression said otherwise. He had caffeine in his system, a patrol route to walk, and civilians to wave at, after literal years of Best Jeanist drilling it into him. His sharp decline through the charts after his initial debut had leant some credence to the words, so he’d done his best to pick a few of the least-shitty lessons to take on board, even though chart numbers were the least of his concerns, these days. One day it would matter, one day he’d make that push to beat down stupid Shouto and lame Lemillion, put them back in their rightful places, but until that time came, he had bigger fish to fry.

Starting with putting his mask on to cover up some of his face.

Truth be told, sleep did sound nice, but he just didn’t have that luxury anymore. Every time he sat down to eat a meal, or lay down on any kind of flat surface, or even just stood still for a little too long, it made his brain start to itch. He was wasting time, taking up hours he could have been working, could have been saving people. Every time he rested, it just added more time that he had to wait.

The worst part was, he was always getting messages, asking him to come hang out, or wanting to chat with him about all sorts of hero-things. He wanted to do those things. More than anything – well, one thing excluded – he wanted to sit in that shitty apartment and drink cheap beer and laugh together over everything, but he just couldn’t make his brain do it. He knew it hurt them both, in the long run, especially when he got those concerned calls asking him if he was eating and sleeping properly, even though they both knew he wouldn’t answer. There was always so much sadness in that voice, so many assumptions about what was going on that Katsuki couldn’t correct. Not yet. He couldn’t get his hopes up until he knew for sure, until it was close. It could’ve still taken decades to get it right. It could have been too late, by the time it was done – though Katsuki would have fought tooth and nail to make sure it wasn’t.

Worst of all, Katsuki knew, that sad, shy voice would have tried to stop him. He could hear it in his head, that soft voice that would tell him I’m not worth it, Kacchan, even though he was worth all of it and so much fucking more. It would become a whole-ass argument, and Katsuki would blurt out something stupid, and the nerd would cry stupid tears, and it would ruin everything. So he’d sworn all their old friends and classmates to secrecy, and thankfully, they had kept their word.

So far.

Maybe one of them would be better at that conversation, would be better at reminding him all gently and sweetly how much he’d done for the rest of them, for the world. But Katsuki couldn’t do that, couldn’t be that person, so instead he just kept working.

A camera appeared in Katsuki’s face, and it took everything in his power to keep from blowing it up immediately, along with the owner. He took a step back to get some space, but they just kept pushing closer, asking questions at a mile a minute that he couldn’t even begin to keep up with, even if he’d wanted to.

“Why are you so damn close?!” he demanded. “I’m not a freakin’ exposition piece! Do you wanna die?!”

They finally found some self-preservation, not following this time when Katsuki moved away, stomping past them and flexing his fingers, feeling the annoyed explosions that waited within. He knew he’d get lectured later for the outburst, would get calls from all his friends telling him he was too impatient and needed to sleep yadda yadda yadda. He’d no doubt get a call from Best Jeanist, too, and depending how bad they made him look in editing, maybe even Aizawa. That one would sting; the rest he was used to.

His phone rang in his pocket, and he couldn’t hold back a groan. Had the asshole been livestreaming it? He was already getting calls? Fuck, he really didn’t want to deal with that shit, right now.

He pulled out his phone to silence it, but when All Might popped up on the screen, he hesitated. Usually All Might wasn’t one to lecture him, so chances were that it wasn’t about that. Hopefully it wasn’t some stupid emergency. In reality, it was probably an update for his spreadsheet, to let him know how many more hours he had to fit in somewhere.

“Hello?” he said, glancing around as he held the phone to his ear, and slipping into the entrance of an alleyway, to stay out of people’s way. “All Might?”

“It’s done.”

“What?” Katsuki asked, frowning slightly. “What’s done? Did I miss an announcement?”

“I’m on my way back from the airport. It’s in my hands.”

Katsuki froze. His fingers trembled around his phone, and for a moment he thought he might lose control entirely, so he lifted his other hand to wrap around his own wrist, bracing it a little despite how it made him tremble even more.

“What?” he asked again, a lot softer this time. “This isn’t funny, don’t mess with me like this.”

“I asked him to come see me after work,” All Might continued, his voice so strangely soft, compared to the bright, loud announcements he used to make every time he showed up in a doorway. “Are you free? You could give it to him yourself.”

“No, it should be you,” Katsuki said immediately, glancing at his watch. “I’ll catch up with you both as soon as I can, I'm on my way.”

“We can wait. I’ll stall him with tea, wait for you to get here.”

A smile stretched across his lips as it finally hit him, as it all began to sink in. It was done. Sure, there would be upgrades, and repairs, as he gathered more data over time, but he’d be able to help, this time. He’d be able to run out there with the rest of them, dorky cape that Katsuki was outvoted on (and, secretly, actually in favour of, because he knew how much it would mean to him) flying, and make his own damn captures, get his own damn funding. It would take him some time to get back to full capacity, sure, but his friends had spent years dragging him to the gym, or talking him into sparring matches, or whatever else they could come up with, making sure he stayed in shape. They wouldn’t have to make excuses anymore; they wouldn’t have to lie anymore. They could sit in that stupid, rundown apartment, could drink cheap beer together, could recount their day’s events and analyse them together, plan for the next time. Maybe they could even get okay beer; maybe Katsuki could finally get his own apartment, instead of mooching off his parents.

It was done.

“No,” he said finally, smiling to himself. “Izuku has— Deku has waited long enough.”