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Denki’s always been the ‘funny friend'.
Not the funny friend you see on your social media timelines, though. He isn’t silently wallowing in his own self-deprecation and hate and despair. He isn’t fronting a persona to appease everyone else. He isn’t funny because he’s insecure or scared. He isn't putting up a façade when he smiles.
Really, he isn't.
Maybe he should lie, and say otherwise. Better fit the 'teenage-angst narrative' that'd make him seem much deeper than he is, some poor, helpless tragic soul too broken to ever confront their sad reality. Someone who wasn't just 'funny' for shit's and giggles.
But Denki is the funny friend because he likes to laugh. Jokes are funny, and he likes seeing people smile. He likes smiling. So, he's the funny friend.
He's stupid, and can be a little slow, but it's funny.
It's funny when Jiro calls him 'Jamming Way' because he has a goldfish's memory.
It's funny when Bakugo calls him 'Dunce Face' to the preposterous ideas he proposes. For all his ideas, really.
It's funny when Sero pats his shoulder after every. single. written exam. Even if Denki was never worried about failing. Even if he thinks he did pretty good because he studied really hard with Midoriya the week before, and Midoriya promised him he was improving, and doing well, and should feel proud. It's always three pats. Three funny pats.
It's funny when Mina shoulder bumps him with some variation of 'at least I did better than you' falling off her tongue when Denki, yet again, scores last place in their maths' class. Even if he's done aeons better than his first exam, and his average is overall higher and that seeing his efforts pay off made him feel good. You know, before that funny shoulder bump.
It’s funny, when his friends make fun of him because he just...he isn’t smart.
They call him stupid names and tell him he spaces out too much and focuses on all the wrong things, but Denki can’t really help that. He can't help that his thoughts are constantly wandering—scattered, here and then there and all over the place like paint splatter—or that when he looks at the stars he can name every constellation by heart and explain the way the planets are aligned but can never remember Pythagoras' formula.
But Denki isn't the funny friend you see on your social media timelines.
...except he is.
He isn't smart, but he tries really hard, and sometimes he wishes they'd all just shut the ever-loving-fuck up because he gets it. God-fucking-damn he understands. He's always in last place, and he's forgetful, and sporadic and impulsive and just so fucking stupid.
And sometimes, it is funny. It's funny when Denki says something out of blue that startles a laugh out of people. It's funny when Denki makes a joke that has people cracking up. It's funny when Denki's trying to be funny.
But Denki isn't always trying to be funny. Sure, he's the epitome of goofy smiles, flirtatious comments, and silly banter, and he loves to have fun. He's only sixteen and those moments are like glimpses of the normalcy that's impossible to have as a hero-in-training who's lost so much of his youth to villains, war and hate. He's laughs and the universe isn't so big, and he exists in this small, simple universe as a simple someone who struggles to read between the lines and can never stay still. A boy who interrupts people mid-sentence because they mentioned the colour blue and the sky is blue and clouds float in the sky and clouds are, apparently, extremely heavy, but still float and the other day Denki saw a fat bird soar to his nest, and it was really cool! He laughs and Denki Kaminari is a clumsy person who forgets to complete his homework and struggles to fall asleep and skipped too many meals when he was pre-occupied with studying Saturn's rings and Neptune's moons and Venus' fire.
Burt he isn't always trying to be funny, and people still laugh.
He learns to swallow the bitter something in his mouth and smiles along with them because sometimes all you can do is laugh. They aren’t trying to mean, not really. They care about him, and they play with him and have fun with him. They make fun of him but they aren’t trying to be mean.
He just isn’t smart, and that’s fine.
(Besides, there's this someone—a boy. He makes Denki feel important, feel valued and good. He makes Denki feel...not smart but worthy. He hears him out and helps him out and makes these really cool flashcards that help. It's easy with him.)
Denki’s always been the ‘funny friend .’
+
It’s a raw, unfathomable pain.
Denki’s read on anaesthesia awareness once. He thinks it might feel like that—smelling the burn of your skin and feeling the jolts in your muscles but not being able to scream because you're sedated and unmoving.
It isn’t lingering or everlasting, and once it’s over Denki’s long since forgotten how bad it hurt. But when it hurts...when it hurts he wants to scream.
He’s a live wire, sparking and burning and twitching helplessly. He can’t do anything about it. He wants to scream.
He isn’t aware of anyone else. It’s all-encompassing, all torturous.
It’s worse because he forgets how bad it hurts. He forgets like it never happened.
So he does it again.
And it’s scary. Because he knows it hurts, and he knows it hurts bad, but he doesn’t ever remember how bad. When the electricity sparks up to his fingers and the smell of ozone is choking, he forgets how badly he wants to scream.
And Denki doesn’t know how it looks to others.
Stupid, he’s sure, with how they make fun of him, how they tease him when he’s conscious and there.)
Denki doesn’t know how...harmless it looks to others. How it's just a blank face and incoherent noises; the way he gives them little thumbs up and swirls and twirls and dances stupidly.)
He just knows that it hurts and that he hates it.
He just knows he wants to scream.
+
It’s random. Denki’s just finished his study session with Izuku—Izuku because Izuku told him he was comfortable with Denki using his first name, said they were really good friends and he liked Denki. He called Denki 'Denks' and left with this bright, oblivious smile.
He’s scrolling through his phone, through his Twitter timeline.
He’s found himself obsessed with flowers lately. With hydrangeas and roses and tulips and hanakotoba and how everything meant something. He thinks he wants to buy a plant, but he’s afraid it’ll wilt.
He’s looking for this one user he remembers seeing—they grew flowers in their garden and wrote about it on their page. Denki remembers seeing the tallest sunflowers, dark yellow and blooming. But he’d gotten distracted by a message, and never got to follow them.
He’s looking, searching up ‘sunflower’ and ‘plant’ and anything he could remember when he finds it.
It—videos of him, that he doesn’t remember being taken; a compilation. It’s from Mina’s spam account, the account he didn’t follow because she insisted it wasn’t necessary and that everything there was just random no-nothings.
It’s viral, with thousands of likes and retweets and views. It’s from a little under a week ago. He’d brush it off, but he wasn’t tagged and he doesn’t remember it being taken.
He clicks on the video, expecting nothing really. It’s during his extra training. Denki doesn’t remember anyone ever being there. He often goes to the gym on his own to practise increasing his electricity output without frying out. He doesn’t want anyone getting hurt by the discharge, so he goes alone. He always assumed he was alone, but this is a compilation.
He’s brain-dead, he can tell. The familiar pose he’s heard of so often, thumbs up and mouth hung open. His features look spaced out and small, and he’s making nonsensical noises as he stumbles over his footing but never falls. He’s just swaying, stupidly. But Denki can see where the lines of his scars are just a little too red, peaking past his sleeves, and Denki can see how his eyebrows are pinched. Though he doesn’t remember, he must’ve been in a lot of pain. He must’ve been screaming.
He’s uncomfortable, staring at himself so disoriented. He thinks about how he could get hurt and how it hurts and how he isn’t in control. He doesn’t want other people to see that. He doesn’t need other people knowing.
He’s vulnerable in that video. All raw and exposed and bared for the world.
He doesn't like it.
+
It’s a compilation. It’s multiple videos, strung together. The camera shakes as the videos are taken. You can hear the quiet laughs and the broken snorts.
It’s a compilation, so they’d taken the videos over and over again. They’d watched Denki hurt and try over and over again.
Every and every time they laughed.
Because to them...to them it was funny.
+
They’re in the common room, sans Kirishima, who's usually at the gym. Mina and Sero are playing Mario-Kart on the floor, and Jiro is sitting by Yaomomo on the couch behind them, head on her shoulder and watching the game as Yaomomo reads a novel in her lap. Bakugo is on the opposite couch, legs propped up and scowl softened. His eyes dart to the door every now and then, and Denki knows it’s because he’s waiting for Kirishima. Uraraka and Tsuyu are there too, over on the beanbags, homework papers and the likes before them.
“Hey, guy.” His tone isn’t flippant and happy, but nervous and...upset. It isn’t obvious, but it’s different. Different enough to garner the attention of his closest friends.
“Hey Kami!” Mina doesn’t pause the game, because she crosses the finish line, heartbeats before Sero, who curses under their breath.
“‘Sup,” Sero calls over, setting down the controller and turning to face Denki. Bakugo acknowledges him by the tilt of his head; Jiro doesn’t move but she gives him a half-hearted wave.
“Hi, Kami!” Uraraka calls from over the room, Tsu nodding at him too. Momo places her book down and smiles, to which Denki returns. It’s crooked and strained, and he knows she knows by the furrow of her brow and the soft frown on her lips that something is wrong.
“Can I talk to you guys for a second?” He gestures to the ‘Bakusquad’ with a nod. They exchange funny glances but oblige. Even Bakugo, though his scowl deepens.
He takes them just down the corridor, where it’s empty.
“So what’s going on?” Jiro raises an expectant eyebrow.
Denki pulls out his phone and plays the video for them in lieu of a response. They stare at the phone, quizzically. When the video registers, and the unfamiliar—but familiar to them—sound of Denki singing incoherent and voweled sounds, Denki winces.
No one notices. They’re snickering at the video.
(At Denki’s pain and vulnerability and how it hurt. They’re laughing.)
“Yeah what’s with it?” Mina asks when the video’s over, still giggling through her fingers.
“Can you—" he pauses, taking in a deep breath. "Can you take it down please?”
“Huh?” Jiro’s smile dims. “Why would she take it down? Can’t handle seeing yourself all dumbed-out, Jamming Way?”
He can’t. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like how he’s trying to scream and people are just...they’re just laughing at him. It isn’t funny. This isn’t a joke.
He’s not trying to be funny.
“Please,” he adds, ignoring Jiro’s quip entirely. “I don’t like it.”
“Nah man, it has like, a shit ton of views.” Mina shakes her head, a smile still playing on her lips. “Not like you’re any dumber than usual.”
He gets it. He’s stupid. But he doesn't want it there.
“You never even told me you posted this, Mina.” He’s exasperated. Denki’s never been good at sounding aloof. He’s never been good at holding back tears and grimaces and keeping his voice steady. He’s loud and expressive and he likes it because it makes it easier to laugh.
But this isn’t funny.
“Just take it down.” Denki folds his arms, levelling them with a serious look. “I don’t like that it’s online.”
He’s hurt, he notes. It's in his tone, in the way his heart thuds a little too loud.
The amusement dies.
“It’s just a joke.” Jiro looks at him like he’s fucking stupid when he didn’t even say anything.
“It’s shitty.”
He was in pain, he wanted to scream, and they’re just laughing...they’re showing it to the world because Denki’s their 'funny' friend. He's impassive and stupid and brain-dead and out of his own head. And Denki's their 'funny' friend. The video—to them—is funny.
Sero rolls their eyes. “C’mon dude, you’re over-reacting. It’s just a video.”
“No, it isn’t.”
It isn’t a fucking cat meme or a picture of Denki with toothpicks up his mouth imitating a walrus. That’s just a video. In this, Denki is hurt and vulnerable and not there. It isn't funny.
“Maybe get a better hold of your quirk then,” Bakugo grits, “and shit like this wouldn’t happen.”
It hits Denki, right then, as they all nod along to Bakugo.
It hits Denki that they'll just...never get it. That they don't want. That they don't fucking care enough to listen.
“I guess you’re right,” he mumbles and walks off.
They don’t call for him.
Denki trails the lightning bolts seared into his forearms, the lines that burn pink and that burn with phantom pains.
He walks back to the dorm.
It really isn’t fucking funny.
+
The video is one of Mina’s best. Denki spends the night scrolling through the replies and retweets and responses underneath his blankets. He watches the video again and again and he wonders if maybe it could be funny. Maybe that’s why people are laughing. Maybe it's something wrong with him.
Or maybe he’s tired of being funny.
+
People can be nice.
+
‘he’s trying.'
***
‘yo is this okay? he seems out of it’
***
‘is he fuckin seizing? man this isn’t funny’
***
‘looks like he didn’t even know he was being filmed’
***
‘and the person who posted this is supposed to be his friend??’
***
‘i hope he’s okay’
+
People can be mean.
+
‘LMAOOO do you see this shit!!!’
***
‘Man you gotta feel for his classmates.’
***
‘the world is fucked if that guy's gonna be a future hero’
***
‘HAHAHA what a fucking idiot’
***
‘i just know he’s embarrassed’
***
‘who is he again’
***
‘if his hero name isn’t ‘moron’ im suing’
***
‘gotta feel bad for him :’)’
***
‘i thought yuuei was supposed to be a school for the elites’
***
‘how tf does this r*tard think he’s ever gonna save anyone like that’
***
‘why he look that like anyway?’
***
‘KUSHDUJASHUJASHD I CANT STOP WATCHING THIS SHIT’S SO FUNNY’
***
‘part 2 anyone???’
***
‘someone get this mans help -_-’
***
‘man if a villain ever catches me he shows up someone better pay for the fucking funeral’
***
‘im all about kids learning to grow better but what is this :/’
***
‘WEAKKK’
***
‘pathetic’
***
‘bet his quirk is fucking stupid.’
+
People can be really fucking mean.
+
Don’t they see the comments? The way people react to him, to how stupid he is. Don’t they see that he’s in pain? That he hates it?
They think it’s funny, but it isn’t funny.
It isn’t funny. It’ll never be funny.
And Denki’s tired of being funny.
+
They notice. They notice how Denki just...he just isn’t there anymore. They notice because his phone buzzes with too many notifications and they’re spending more time in his dorm because he doesn’t spend any in theirs.
Kirishima asks him if everything is okay one week after the confrontation, and Denki lies and says ‘yes’.
Kirishima wasn’t there, but would he act differently anyhow? Would he tell Mina to take down the fucking video? Or would he laugh with them, tell Denki he’s being stupid and silly?
He doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t fucking care to.
They notice, and Denki’s glad they do. Glad because at least it means they see him, right? At least it means they care about him. He does like them, he doesn’t want to lose them as friends because he does like them...
“Hey Kami!” Sero waves at him when Denki enters the common room. Denki waves back but says nothing, heading to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
“You good?” Sero walks over, worried.
“I’m fine.” Denki gives them a tight-lipped smile. “Just not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood? You’ve been in like, a funk all week. Is it about that video? If it’s serious I’ll have Mina take it down.”
Yeah. They care. They like him. But they'll still laugh at him. Sero will still jokingly hold his hand as they walk to exam centres; Mina will pat his head; Jiro will call him an airhead; Bakugo will still light Denki up so he fizzes and fits and hurts and they'll still laugh.
The problem is that it stopped being funny a long time ago.
That it's just fucking cruel.
“Nah, it’s just a me thing, need some space.” He holds the glass to his lips but doesn’t take a sip. Sero’s eyebrows and drawn. They don't believe him, they know something is wrong, and they want to help. They care. (But not in any way that matters.)
“You sure, bro?”
“I’m sure.”
It just isn't funny.
+
Denki keeps going back to the videos. They haven’t taken it down, and so he watches. (And watches; and watches; and watches; and watches.)
He keeps reading the comments, as they flood in.
People are vicious.
And they keep watching, so he keeps watching. Keeps watching to see how his pupils dilate miserably; how his tongue will lol out of his mouth; how he’ll drool onto the mats; how sometimes he’ll fall gracelessly and won’t get up; how he’ll make noise that sounds like nothing.
He can’t remember how bad it hurt, but he can remember that it did; that he wanted to scream. He thinks that the familiar slurred ‘whee’ he sings is an echo of how he rages in his own mind.
They keep watching, so he keeps watching, the views racking up, more and more. More likes and retweets and comments and people who are so fucking mean.
He can’t stop watching.
+
He tells Izuku when the video reaches 15 004 likes, 9 982 comments and 13 458 retweets. He tells Izuku two weeks after confronting his friends. He tells Izuku because Izuku is there and will listen.
It’s more than a flimsy crush. It’s the way Izuku never calls him stupid or slow. It’s the way izuku will listen when he rants about stupid things on and on. It’s the way he doesn’t glare at him when he’s a little too loud and obnoxious. It’s the way Izuku is patient with him, keeping him on track when he drifts too far off, always with a little hint of amusement. It’s the way izuku doesn't make him feel babied for forgetting, the way he doesn’t treat him like he’s a dense idiot, but a person with faults.
Izuku doesn’t laugh when Denki shows him the video. He looks contemplative, almost. They’re working on English, one of Denki’s best subjects, the books sprawled out in front of them. It’s stupid. Denki sees the word ‘daft’ written amongst the literature, a word that’s never been said to him because it sounds old and posh the way old literature does, but it means stupid.
And Denki remembers that people think he’s stupid. That his friends think he’s stupid.
That his friends think it’s so funny that he’s stupid. So funny that he fries his brain cells and renders himself immobile and incoherent and all blank-faced and stupid.
It’s so funny that they spent weeks compiling videos of him during private training to post them online. Online where people are seeing it, where people will keep watching it because it’s so funny. Online where Denki will keep watching it and keep seeing that look in his eyes and remembering—but never really remembering—that startling pain. Online where people will comment about how stupid and useless and pathetic Denki is and how it’s so goddamn funny.
And he can’t focus anymore because all he can think about is how every always thinks it’s so fucking funny.
Because Denki is the funny friend, right?
So, Izuku’s watching the videos because Denki just wants to tell someone, anyone, and he likes Izuku and Izuku listens.
“Who...who posted this?”
“Mina.” Denki looks up at him, frowning deeply. “Mina posted this.”
“And you don’t want it up,” he says like a statement, not a question. Denki nods anyway.
“I asked them to take it down but they told me I was being stupid.” He folds his arms across his chest. “I don’t think I was being stupid, though.”
Izuku shuffles and Denki cuddles into his side. They’re laying against his bed, and Izuku lazily throws his arm over Denki’s shoulder, hugging him. Denki responds by nuzzling into his shoulder, lips quirking when a faint blush dusts across Izuku’s cheeks and over his nose, painting his freckles darker.
“You weren’t.” Izuku's drawing patterns on Denki’s shoulder with his thumb, random shapes and lines and things that have no meaning or rhyme. Denki likes it, a point of contact he can lose himself in if the conversation becomes a little too much a little too fast. “Anyone would be upset if a video of them where they were at their weakest was posted to the internet without their permission.”
“At their weakest?” Denki repeats.
“That’s what you see that state as don’t you?” Izuku tilts his head to meet Denki’s eyes, pools of viridian. "When you're reduced to that state, you’re oblivious to everything around you, and that makes you vulnerable.”
Denki blinks owlishly.
Because..well...Izuku was right. Izuku understood. Denki was...is exposed. He’s naked to the bone when he’s in that state, the numbing pain and the blindness to everything else. He hates how other people are privy to that, privy to how he just loses himself, and are laughing despite it.
Izuku...Izuku understood. He's trying to understand.
“Sorry,” Izuku stutters, looking away but otherwise not moving. “I didn’t m-mean to overstep my—”
“It's not just that,” Denki interrupts before Izuku can work himself into a rant, “it’s not just the vulnerability.”
Izuku turns back to him, and his eyes are wide.
'Continue. I’m listening,' he says without saying anything.
“It’s-It’s that they’re laughing.” Denki's voice is low, embarrassed. “Whenever I burn myself out, it hurts.” He smiles a little sheepishly. “I always forget how bad it hurts once it’s over and so I burn myself out again.”
“It hurts?” Izuku holds Denki a little tighter. “Your drawback hurts?”
“Well, yeah. I’m basically frying myself, and when I go brain-dead, my nerves are all haywire and sparking, so it feels like I’m being electrocuted or struck by lightning when I’ve gone incoherent.”
“Oh, Denki.” Izuku turns fully to give Denki a proper hug, protective and gentle. “That must feel like shit.”
Denki doesn’t protest, always desperate for physical contact, for the warmth of his hands and his feather-light touches.
“I’ve never seen what I look like when I go all stupid,” he whispers when they pull away. Instead of sitting against the bed by his side, Midoriya faces Denki, gently cupping his hands and resting them on Midoriya's lap.
“Until I accidentally came across that video, and I just...I didn’t think it was funny.” His throat feels tight as he speaks, like the words are grating on his vocal cords and trying to choke him slowly. “But everyone else did. And then the comments, oh gods, the comments.”
‘dunce.’
***
‘no way he’s ever gonna make it as a pro’
***
‘what a fucking embarrassment.’
“People just, they think it’s funny or that it’s my fault I got stuck with such a fuck-y drawback. I didn’t- I didn’t ask for any of this. And I like making people laugh but only when I’m actually trying to. I like being the funny friend and cracking a stupid joke to get someone to smile. I like that when my friends are stressed they count on me to lighten the mood. I like it, but I don’t like this. This isn’t...it isn’t funny to me.”
“It’s not funny at all,” Izuku voices firmly, “your drawback isn’t something you can all of sudden control, it takes years of practice and training. And you’ve improved so much from the start of the year, Denki.” Izuku unclasps one of his hands to gently lift Denki’s chin. “Everyone is proud of you. I’m proud of you.”
Oh.
+
It isn’t funny. It isn’t funny how hard he works and how much he fucking tries and how through it all people still laugh.
He keeps going, he keeps trying, he wants to get better, be stronger, be more than just a silly smile and flirtatious comment and the way he looks when he’s screaming in his own head.
It isn’t funny, how people will just laugh. Laugh like it all meant nothing. Like he wasn't more than a dumb joke.
Aren’t they proud of how far he’s gotten?
Can't they be fucking proud?
+
Izuku tastes like coffee and chocolate—warm and comforting.
Denki’s arms are wrapped around his waist and Izuku’s hands are looped around Denki’s neck. The kiss is unprompted, unplanned and impulsive.
‘I’m proud of you.’
Denki kisses him harder, shuffling into his lap so they’re chest to chest because he doesn’t want to pull away.
‘I’m proud of you.’
Izuku makes a noise, a quiet, pleasant sound as Denki trails his hands down his sides.
‘I’m proud of you.’
When Izuku pulls away to breathe, Denki moves to trail kisses down his neck, over his jaw and the tan, freckled skin. Izuku whines quietly when Denki gets to the spot right below his ear, and it sounds so pretty.
‘I’m proud of you.’
Izuku doesn’t laugh at him.
“Denki,” he breathes, tilting his neck to give Denki better access. Denki grins against his skin, kisses and sucks and licks his way upwards. Izuku keens; threads his fingers through Denki’s hair and tugs so he can kiss him again. He isn’t shy, running his tongue along Denki’s lower lip and licking into his mouth when Denki parts them in permission.
It’s minutes (and hours and seconds) before they stop, Denki’s fingers splayed over Izuku’s stomach where his shirt is ridden up and Izuku gently kissing where he’d bitten Denki on the collarbone seconds before. It’s unbearably hot, and Denki doesn’t want to stop but he does, because he likes him. He really likes him and he wants to tell him first. He doesn’t want this to be casual and every day like every other person he’s been with.
Izuku doesn’t laugh at him.
Denki sits up to lay on his bed, shuffling to give Izuku space. Izuku turns to his left, so he and Denki are face to face, and wraps an arm around his waist, holding him so they’re chest to chest.
Denki can count Izuku’s freckles this close. His eyelashes are green too. He never noticed. They're curly and long and make his eyes look so wide and big and pretty.
“Did you mean what you said?” He finally asks, quietly.
“What?”
“You’re proud of me?”
He sounds so small and serious. There’s no smile playing on his lips. He’s not trying to be funny.
He’s tired of being 'the funny friend'. He’s tired of being seen as stupid. He’s tired of people sending him sympathetic glances whenever the scores show up on the board. He’s tired of them seeing his placements and dismissing how he did so much better because that 20% was now a 50 and he was growing.
He just...he wants people to acknowledge him—his hurt and his pain and his efforts.
It makes him feel small, but he wants someone to be proud.
He wants them to smile at him and be proud.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Izuku looks up at him. “You’ve grown so much since the beginning of the year. Everyone has. It makes me happy to see you all just...thrive,” Izuku admits quietly, trailing his hand up Denki’s arm to run his thumb across his cheek. “It makes me happy seeing you thrive.”
Izuku doesn’t laugh at him.
But everyone else does.
“God, you’re fucking incredible." Denki takes the hand cupping his cheek and threads their fingers. “I don’t think anyone’s ever told me that.”
Unprompted, he remembers the video and the comments and how everyone else just...just laughs.
“I don’t think anyone ever will.” He frowns. “That video, so many people have seen it. And they’re so mean.”
Izuku bends to gently kiss his forehead, pulling away and saying. “They know nothing.”
“It still hurts.” He feels childish, and the confession makes him sound weak, but he doesn't take it back.
It’s silent then, not uncomfortable or stilted, but unfulfilled. Like there’s more to be said, and yet no one says anything.
Izuku pulls away; stretches over the bed to grab his phone, untangling his fingers from Denki.
(For a second—a split second—Denki thinks he might make him watch that video, scroll through the comments and tell him it’s not that big of a deal.
Tell him that it’s his fault. it’s his reputation.
Tell him he’s supposed to be funny. Not strong, thriving, or prideful. But stupid and funny.)
He clicks on HeroTube, Denki sees, and types something in the search bar.
When he hands Denki the phone, he reads the words ‘quirkless loser gets the best surprise of his life’.
It has tens of thousands of views, not viral, but seen enough. Denki sits upright, back against the headboard, and Izuku comes to his side.
“What—” he wants to ask, but Izuku only clicks play, keeping his eyes on the screen. Denki doesn’t say anything, waiting for the video to load.
To load and to see a picture of Izuku. Except he’s younger. He’s skinny, all bone and lanky limbs, still short as ever. His hair is just as wild, and his eyes are just as wide, but he’s younger. He’s dressed in a black uniform from a junior high Denki doesn’t recognize.
And he’s scared. Denki can see it, viridian eyes glassy and posture hunched and trembling, he’s scared.
—————
“Awee look at little Deku,” a guy with a mop of brown hair croons. “You happy to see us?”
Izuku says nothing, keeping his eyes cast downwards.
“Oi!” The person behind the camera yells, and Izuku flinches violently, “he asked a fucking question.”
“I-I j...j-just-”
“y...y...y...y...y...y-you,” the third guy with scales over his cheeks mocks, smirking. “Spit it out, fucker!”
“I j-just want-want t-to g...g...go-go ho-home—"
“Shut the fuck up!” Scales drops his smirk and scowls. “You sound like a fucking r*tard.”
“I bet he is one,” Brown-Hair snickers. “Quirkless and a r*tard, it would only make sense, right?”
“A fag too,” Camera-Man adds, his own voice dripping with amusement. “Probably would enjoy if all three of us went in him.” Camera-Man sends a sharp kick to Izuku’s leg, and another when Izuku doesn’t fall. “Wouldn’t you?” He punctuates the question with another kick, now to Izuku’s stomach as he lays on the floor. "It’d probably be a fucking field day for you.”
Izuku whimpers, bringing a hand to his stomach and squeezing.
Brown-Hair bends down to thread his fingers through Izuku’s hair. He pulls hard, forcing Izuku to look up, eyes welling with tears yet to spill.
“Oi, get a load of this,” he smirks to the camera, throwing a peace sign with the hand that wasn’t running through Izuku’s hair. Denki watches as the hand pales, white to grey, with spider web cracks where his fingers dent.
Brown-Hair sends a strong punch to Izuku’s face. Izuku yelps, hands flying up to his face only for Scales to send another kick to his stomach.
Brown-Hair steps back, pulling on Izuku’s hair to shove his face closer to the camera, where blood pours from his nose, bright red and gushing. There's already bruising around his eyes and over the bridge of his nose.
—————
Denki looks away and Izuku takes the phone from his hands to stop the video.
It was less than a minute. He watched for less than a minute. The video ran for six.
“What the fuck?” He looks to Izuku, who’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.
“I I got my quirk late,” Izuku admits. “Like, really late, actually. Something about it meeting specific criteria, the doctor said.” He doesn’t meet Denki’s eyes. “People, they-they didn’t like me. They didn’t like that I was quirkless, and s-so—”
“They bullied you,” Denki finishes for him. “They hurt you.”
Izuku winces, but he doesn’t deny it. He seems to steel himself for the next part. Denki swallows his profanities and anger. Izuku is more important.
“They..umm...they would sometimes post it. You know, when they...uh...when they bullied me, I guess. And I’d watch the videos over and over again." He wrings his fingers and picks at the skin on his nails. Denki takes his hand and threads their fingers again. Izuku looks up at him, his gaze softening.
“The comments were the worst,” he divulges, “but I’d read them anyway. Which was fucking stupid because all it did was make me more upset.”
You start to believe it, to believe you’re nothing but scattered brain cells and too slow thinking. That you're nothing but the scores on your exam paper and the way your quirk leaves you hurt and alone and immobile and dopey.
“They still hurt.” He squeezes Denki’s hand and holds his gaze. “But they didn’t define me, not anymore.”
Izuku gently knocks Denki’s shoulder with his head. “And those videos, they don’t define you Denki.”
But...
“And it’ll take time to believe it,” Izuku adds, laying his head on Denki’s shoulder. “Somedays I forgot that I’m more than what my bullies told me. But I have people who believe in me. I have my friends, Aizawa-Sensei, my mum, and.” He leans up so his mouth is right by Denki’s ear. “I have you.”
Denki feels his cheeks flush healthily.
“Me?”
“You. And you have me. I’ll help you through it—if it’s to listen or to just hold your hand—and be there.”
Izuku doesn’t laugh at him.
“Promise?”
Izuku presses a kiss on his cheek.
“I promise.”
+
“Oh darling,” Izuku teases, wiggling his eyebrows, “don’t hurt yourself trying to carry those barbells.”
Denki looks over at him, thoroughly unamused as his arms shake in an attempt to do a bicep curl with the barbell Izuku tends to use.
He manages to lift it halfway before his arm goes limp, the barbell falling to the floor with a loud 'clang', centimetres from Denki’s toes.
“Shit!” Izuku jogs over to him. “Are you okay?”
“What the fuck are those made of?” Denki whines, gently toeing at the metal.
Izuku crouches and lifts it easily, moving to set it with the other barbells before looking back at Denki.
“You wanna try challenging me at a weight lifting contest again, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, tone determined and fond now that he knows Denki isn't hurt.
Denki raises his arms in defeat. “You win. I don’t even think Kirishima’s weights are that heavy.”
“I don't think so.” Izuku gently tugs at a strand of loose hair. “It really isn’t that—”
“Shut up.” Denki walks over and wraps his arms around Izuku’s waist, ignoring the gross heat of sweat on sweat and pressing a kiss to Izuku’s shoulder. “You’re strong. Like, seriously strong.”
He emphasizes his statement by trailing his fingers over Izuku’s abs, through the thin cotton of his muscle-t. Izuku squirms and presses further into him.
“E-Enough of that.” He turns so he and Denki are face to face. “How about we work on your quirk now that the warm-up is over?”
Izuku’s already headed to the left of the gym, where the rubber matts and spread out and foam blocks line the walls. He creates a large enough circle for Denki, who jogs over to him with new vigour to his steps.
They’ve been doing this since their first kiss a little over three weeks ago. Izuku meets him at the gym so he’s no longer alone, and they try to use his quirk in controlled outputs to keep him from frying out. It worked. Denki was so happy after the first successful attempt. He was bustling and anxious but his scars didn’t burn bright pink and his head didn’t ache and there was no pain. He was so happy that they spent the rest of the day in Izuku’s dorm, intimate and loving and just...content.
“I want to try something different,” Denki tells Izuku as he heads to the back, Izuku taking a familiar seat atop the foam to keep from getting hurt himself.
“What?”
“I want to overuse my quirk.”
Izuku’s confusion grows.
“Hear me out.” Denki holds up his hands. “I don’t want to just dispel 2 million volts at once. I want to do the thing we were practising with the outputs. I want to keep slowly increasing the output until I can’t.”
“You told me it hurts when you go brain-dead," Izuku reminds him, tone like that of a worried mother. (Or worried boyfriend. Yeah, worried boyfriend.)
“It does b-but, maybe it won’t be as bad this way?” His voice goes all squeaky and high-pitched at the end, and Izuku gives him an unimpressed look.
“No listen, usually it hurts because I’m dispelling too much electricity at once, and that fucks with my nerves and brain cells, so instead of just mild seizing, it’s a full-blown I’m turning my nerves to mush type of thing.” He waves his hands around as he explains, excited but nervous. “But if I’m slowly dispersing everything in small outputs, I wouldn't be overriding myself with so much electricity all at once. It’ll probably dull the pain a lot. And I won’t know if I don’t try. And I’ve been doing so good at the controlled output thing and I really want to get better to prove to everyone that I’m someone to be proud of and that I’m more than just some stupid, funny guy who isn’t worth his—”
He doesn’t realise Izuku’s moved up to him until full lips are pressed against his in a chaste kiss, effectively shutting him up.
“You can do it,” Izuku tells him. Although Denki knows he doesn't need Izuku's permission, he's overjoyed to have it. Izuku's willing to grow with him, to let him grow. He wants him to grow. “I’ll be here to watch anyway. You said that being held helps, right?”
Denki nods.
It feels grounding—when someone has their hands around his shoulder to keep him steady; when someone is carrying him to the bed or couch while his nerves regrow and the fuzziness and hurt fade. He feels their touch, like the warmth of a heater. It isn't much, but it helps. It helps to remember he’s not alone with the brain and the buzzing in his ears and the way his vision goes white all over.
“Okay then. I’ll be here, and I’ll hold you until you're conscious. Yeah?”
Denki smiles at his lover and presses a kiss to his nose.
“Fuck yeah!”
+
Seeing Denki’s improvement always makes Izuku’s heart beat just a tiny bit faster. Denki managed to work his output level up from 1 500 to 10 000 volts before his quirk got the best of him and his movements went lax. Izuku immediately headed over to him, wrapping an arm around his middle and guiding him to the centre of the gym, where the mats were the softest.
He’d take Denki to the dorms, but they were sweaty and gross, and his drawback never lasts more than half an hour. Izuku waits, humming tuneless sounds under his breath and carding his fingers through Denki’s hair. He smiles when Denki makes a funny ‘whee’ sound, gently rubbing his thumb across his lip.
The sound of the gym doors banging open startles him a little, the hand in Denki’s hair freezing and pulling at a strand a little too harshly. Izuku whispers a quiet apology despite Denki’s absent reaction and continues the motion, gently rubbing circles into Denki’s collarbone with his free hand.
He looks up to see Jiro, Ashido, Sero, Kacchan and Kirishima all walk in, gym bags and phones and water bottles full to the brim. They see Izuku, sitting on the gym floor with Denki’s head and upper middle on his lap.
They see the buzzed-out look in his eyes and the way his hands were bent, thumbs up like he was wishing them good luck. Izuku frowns when they snicker and stretches to lay Denki's arms down, fisting Denki's hands and leaving them at his sides before returning to his hair.
Kirishima sees him and smiles, ignorant of the amusement dancing in everyone else’s eyes.
“Hey, Mido!” He waves. “What’re you doing with Kami?”
“The idiot must be brain dead,” Jiro chuckles, cutting off Izuku's answer.
“You don’t need to help him, you know?” Mina tells Izuku as she fishes out her phone. “It’s way funnier when he’s standing with his hands in that weird-ass position.”
“And the noises he makes.” Sero’s smile widens. “Fucking gold.”
“It isn’t funny,” Izuku cuts them off, voice uncharacteristically stern. "And Ashido put the fucking phone down or I'll break it."
He’s there with Denki, as Denki makes the day a tad brighter. He’s there with Denki when he cracks a joke to make him smile. He's there making silly comments about any insane idea Denki has. He's there to laugh when Denki jokes about some mundane bullshit he didn’t understand because he was ‘him’.
He was also there when Denki wasn’t laughing. He's there when Denki works tirelessly to be better. He's was there when it stopped being funny because Denki was afraid he wasn’t going to pass the written exam. He was there when Denki would shake and fist his hair and punch his thighs because he didn’t understand a concept. He was there when Denki would stay up hours into the night, rearranging his room because suddenly it was all he could think about.
He was there as a friend, even more as a lover.
And he was there when Denki told him how much it hurt.
He was there when Denki told him about how tired he was of laughing.
“Watch your tone, shitty Deku,” Kacchan levels him a look. Mina, in her surprise, holds her phone limply at her side.
In his own head, iIuku flinches, cowers and hides his head between his arms to keep from burning because explosions hurt. In his own head, where he still feels like that quirkless, useless Deku that will never amount to anything. But he can't be that person, right now, in front of them. (Later, when it's just him and Denki, and he knows he's safe.)
“You guys watch what you say,” Izuku counters, pausing when Denki makes another funny noise. He runs his thumbs down his neck until Denki quiets down.
His friends laugh.
“And stop laughing.”
“It’s funny, dude.”
His friends laugh.
“It isn’t.” Izuku turns to Sero, and the look in his eyes is enough to wipe away the smile off their face. “It isn’t funny and you guys need to stop fucking laughing.”
His friends laugh.
“I’m sure it’s not that serious, Mido,” Kirishima tries to placate.
Izuku scoffs.
“What the fuck are you on, Deku?”
(His friends fucking laugh.)
“You guys need to stop treating Denki like he’s some circus freak.” Izuku isn’t subtle with his words. “You can laugh with him, but there’s a difference between casual joking and posting multiple videos of him where he’s at his worst online for everyone to see.”
“Is that what this is about?” Jiro rolls her eyes. “Those fucking videos? They were nothing, bro. Like I told Denki a few weeks ago, it was a fucking joke. ”
“It wasn’t.” Izuku shoots her a harsh glare. A small part of him smiles at the way she flinches. “Did you guys even read the comments?”
“Comments?” Mina repeats, the same time Kirishima asks, “What videos?”
Izuku raises an eyebrow. Denki did say Kirishima wasn't there for the confrontation. “Those videos Mina took of Denki when he was fried. Denki told me he confronted you guys about it and you all brushed it off.”
“Because it wasn’t that serious,” Jiro counters.
“Yes, it was!” Izuku rebukes “It was very fucking serious because Denki was uncomfortable with it, because Denki felt hurt by it, and because, if you didn’t fucking know, people on the internet are bitches!”
“I will literally—”
“You will literally what, Katsuki?” Izuku turns to him, the use of his first name shocking him into silence. “You all noticed how Denki started distancing himself from you after that day. Fuck, everyone noticed, but it wasn’t our business to say shit about it when Denki started spending more hours with me and Hito and not you guys!”
“I offered to take the video down—”
“But it isn’t enough if you didn’t understand why he wanted it down in the first place,” Izuku cuts Sero off. "It isn't enough that, taken down or not, you guys would do it all over again in a heartbeat."
(His friends just kept fucking laughing.)
He pauses; breathes through his nose, and continues, calmer, "You guys ever think that Denki wants to be more than the ‘stupid funny friend’ no one ever takes seriously? Did you ever wonder why he came to the gym, privately, on those days when you took those videos? Ever notice how, despite always trailing in last place, his test scores improved greatly? Did you ever care to fucking notice how just because he isn’t as smart as everyone else, he was still trying?”
They're all silent now. Izuku's still heated. Still angry.
"God, if I knew having friends means I'd have to put up with assholes like you, I would've been a lot more content when I was younger."
Izuku stands up, pulling up Denki with him. He hugs his waist to keep him steady, gently guiding him to the exit on the other side of the gym. Denki wobbles and slurs incoherently, arms limp at his side.
"You're a bunch of assholes. Stop fucking laughing and learn to be proud of him as a person or god help me I'll make sure he never has to interact with you shitheads ever again."
They knew nothing, never bothered to know.
And so, they kept fucking laughing, like it was still funny.
Dumbasses.
+
Izuku tells Denki everything the second he's coherent. They’re in Denki’s room, because it’s closer to the gym, and Denki comes to lying in his bed, Izuku holding him tight.
(Later, he tells Izuku how it worked. How it still hurt, how his vision was still white and he could hear nothing but static and buzz, but how he could feel Izuku. Could feel the fingers scratching his scalp and the lines drawn into his skin. And it hurt, but the pain wasn’t mind-numbing and raw, and the scars on his arms and legs and hips were only a few shades redder, not that gross, bright pink Denki’s so used to seeing.
And they'll celebrate. But later.)
Denki isn’t offended or upset; rather, he kisses Izuku long and hard. He stood up for him. when everyone was laughing and teasing and mean, he stood up for him, felt proud of him. Denki couldn't be luckier.
“What would I do without you?” Denki murmurs in between kisses, smiling goofily.
Izuku pretends to think about it, tapping his chin with his other hand pressed on Denki’s chest to help keep him from pancaking Izuku.
“I don’t know,” he finally says, “probably fail Ectoplasm's class.”
He says it cheekily, lips twisted in mirth.
Denki playfully head bumps him and pouts.
“I’m kidding, love.” Izuku presses a quick kiss to Denki’s lips. “C’mon, we have to shower. We’re both sweaty.”
“Together?” Denki asks, not entirely joking.
Izuku looks at him, before sighing fondly.
“Of course.”
Denki’s smiling giddily all the way to the baths.
+
It’s the night of the gym incident when they tell him. Denki already showered with Izuku and spent a few hours watching a movie in his room when a reminder notification popped up on Izuku’s screen.
Izuku promised to be back within the hour, remembering a promise to help Uraraka with some of her English work. He’d offered Denki an invite, to which Denki politely declined, and instead winded up venturing to the kitchen for some much-needed food.
His friends are all there, on the counter, talking amongst each other in quiet voices. No one else is in the common room.
Denki waves his hand a little awkwardly when they see him and starts for the fridge, rummaging around for the chocolate spread before moving to the pantry for a slice of bread.
'Nothing like a chocolate sandwich.'
The eyes follow him as he cuts off the crust. It makes his throat itch and tastes off and he can't eat it without crying, so he doesn't. They continue to follow him as he’s about to take his leave.
“Wait,” Mina calls out.
Denki turns around and looks at them.
Were they going to talk about what Izuku told them earlier?
“We wanted to apologise,” she tells him. “That video and laughing and you and all that. It was so not cool of us. We didn’t know you felt bad about it and we feel like shit for brushing you off when you tried telling us a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah, dude.” Sero sheepishly smiles. “I was a total cunt back there. I’m just so used to you laughing at everything that I kinda forgot you, y’know, feel other things.”
“I’m sorry for them." Kirishima sends everyone a pointed look. “and I’m sorry for never telling them to shut up before. I also didn’t know about those shitty videos. We took them down already.”
“We actually had to keep Boom Boom Boy from finding the IP address of all the people who were mean in the comments to ‘teach them a lesson’,” Jiro finger quotes.
“They fucking need to be taught,” Bakugo counters, his palms sparking. “Those shitty extras were talking like they knew shit about shit!”
“We get it, Baku.” Jiro flicks her earphone jack at him, before looking at Denki. “I really am sorry. I just, never really thought about how mean I was being until now.”
“We can thank Mido for that.” Sero rolls their arms. “Man I felt like I was being scolded by an angel of something.”
Mina shudders too. (Denki really loves his boyfriend.) She turns back to Denki. "Anyways, overall, we’re all really fucking sorry for all that. You’re not obligated to forgive us, or anything, we just thought you should know.”
They all—though Bakugo a little begrudgingly—bow.
Denki laughs a little. (He knows they care.) They all look up at the sound.
“I'm not going to say it's fine, but I know you didn't mean to be a bunch of dicks.” They all wince a little. “I forgive you, just...just don’t brush me off next time. I’m fine being the butt of the joke, I’m less fine having my shit leaked onto the internet.”
Mina blushes magenta.
It'll take Denki a little time, they know it too, still. keeping a bit of distance. But they mean the best, and they're his friends. (They're listening.)
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I've got a person to catch.”
“Is it, perhaps, Midoriya?” Mina wiggles her eyebrows, embarrassment forgotten. It's nice, that they can just bounce back again. "We all so how he was holding you when you were out of it. Hella fucking romantic if you ask me.”
Denki shrugs as nonchalantly as he can.
“Guess you’ll never know.”
“Ugh, you suck!” Mina whines as Denki turns the halls with his sandwich. The others laugh as she pouts.
They finally stopped laughing
+
“They apologised?” Izuku looks up at him where his head is resting on Denki’s chest, Denki’s fingers combing through his hair.
“They did.”
“And you accepted it?”
“I did.”
“I know people who would’ve held grudges for years,” Izuku says.
"I know they didn't mean to hurt me. And it'd be kinda shitty of me to just, forget every good thing they've ever done. Especially now that they're trying to get better."
"Ah, my sweet love," Izuuku coos, kissing just above his heartbeat.
Denki’s ears feel hot, but he brushes off the comment by snaking his arms under Izuku’s pecks and hoisting him up so they’re face to face.
“Wanna know what else is sweet?” His eyes light up suggestively.
Izuku smirks. “What else, sweetheart?”