Chapter Text
Yeah, Midoriya knew he shouldn’t have done it.
He knew he shouldn’t have joined that stupid app for “mental health”.
But he was struggling, and having somebody to talk to about it sounded.. nice.
Middle school wasn’t fun for the normal kid. It was less fun for the bullied kid. It was down right hell for the bullied, quirkless kid.
“Useless Deku!”
And for years he tried to ignore it, but…
“You’re so damn oblivious, just do me a favor and find out what it feels like to have 40 pills in your stomach at once!”
Eventually he couldn’t just ignore it…
“Worthless.”
His ignorance turned to suppression.
“He seriously thinks he can be a hero?”
And suppression needed an outlet.
“What a loser.”
His outlet just happened to come in his back-to-school kit.
And he couldn’t say that he hadn’t thought about it forever. He’d been tempted by his classmates to do it.
“Why don’t ya go and buy some razors, dumbass? Put ‘em to good use!”
He didn’t think it’d help. He didn’t know how anybody could get addicted to something like that– or at least, he didn’t, until he unscrewed the pencil sharpener himself.
Five months after that, he downloaded the app.
His mom had come close to finding out about his bad habits, so he decided he needed to cut back (as ironic as the wording was).
But just the app by itself, wasn’t enough to help. Sure it could give Midoriya reminders to eat, brush his hair, drink water, etc. It gave him small notes and quizzes on how his day was, went so far as to create a chart on his average moods throughout the past month and would suggest some healthy ways to cope.
And that all was good, Midoriya guessed, but that stuff didn’t bring up his spirits. Honestly, it was the friends you could make on the app.
You could find people going through issues similar to yourself, friend them, and chat with them– whether in a group, or in a private chat.
Best part? There was no way anyone else on it could know your quirk, or lack thereof.
Midoriya knew talking to strangers online was stupid. He knew it was dangerous, but this was different. It wasn’t a dating app, and he wasn’t going to meet the people in real life. He wasn’tthat dumb.
So when he joined a group and started chatting more with some guy on there nicknamed, “Manly Rock,” Midoriya didn’t question it.
They shared their issues now and then. It was a safe place to vent, or to make jokes and spread some cheer.
His friend— could Midoriya even call him that? It’d only been a few weeks since they started a private DMs on the app— he shared enough for Midoriya to know that he struggled with self confidence and low self-worth. It was actually the guy’s moms who encouraged him to download the app.
Midoriya gave empathy towards that, deciding not to share much about himself. If his friend needed the app to vent, then why would Midoriya himself vent and steal the show?
Midoriya forgot why he really downloaded it in the first place, but somehow it still cheered him up to talk to someone who didn’t view him as a quirkless low-life or a good (enough) grade student who made such a shame because, “Your lack of quirk will keep you from getting anywhere in life.”
And the friend tried to get him to open up, but Midoriya said he felt better by simply being able to make others feel better, so the friend tried not to push too much.
*Manly Rock is active in chat*
MR: yo how’s today treating you man?
*Deku is active in chat*
D: It’s been okay. You?
MR: actually pretty good! my moms and me went shopping and i got to go to the arcade >:D
D: Oh, that’s nice. :)
MR: yepp!
MR: look ik what you’ve said before, but if you need to talk, I’m here man. literally the point of the app lol
D: I’m fine, but thanks.
MR: kay, just don’t want u to bottle everything up.
Midoriya hesitated. He wasn’t bottling everything up, right? He had a coping mechanism. And he talked to himself when nobody else wanted to listen. He was fine.
D: I’m not.
MR: mhm..
MR: anyways, whatcha doin tmrw? wanna call?
They only ever audio called, never FaceTimed, to ensure the privacy that the app allowed them to keep. But Midoriya wasn’t up for calling, let alone responding, so he left it on read.
Sighing, Midoriya lightly tossed his phone onto his bed, wincing at the pain that echoed through his wrist.
“Stupid bullies,” he mumbled. The pain wasn’t even from his own cause. Apparently his classmates decided it was fun to, while Midoriya was pinned to the ground, start stepping on his arm. They probably sprained it; Midoriya knew he’d heard or felt some sort of crunch, crack, or whatever.
It’d heal though, right? It always did. He’d just have to deal with the teacher berating him for having sloppy handwriting for a little while. He really needed to work more on his goal of becoming ambidextrous.
Midoriya let his eyes trail around the room. He hadn’t even turned the lights on. Or eaten dinner, for that matter. Not that it mattered too much, he wasn’t all that hungry. And his mom wouldn’t notice, hopefully.
She was out again. She had to work 3 jobs because of Midoriya’s stupid quirkless self causing an upcharge on prices, so of course she wasn’t home. Midoriya knew he didn’t deserve her.
The sharpener was unscrewed again.
“Maybe if I hadn’t been born,” Midoriya mumbled, letting his mind wander, the small bit of metal dancing and gliding across his thighs, “Mom wouldn’t be stressing herself as much…”
He shook his head, hearing another notification from his phone on his bed. He sighed, wiping off his legs and pulling his pants back on, shoving a paper towel or two between the pants and his skin to stop the bleeding.
Midoriya washed his hand and rescrewed the sharpener, putting it back in his drawer. He lent over his bed to try and see who sent the message. He should have guessed though.
MR: I gtg to bed sry :(
D: It’s fine; talk to you tomorrow 👋
MR: tty tmrw man
MR: and really, when u need to talk, I’m here.
D: Thanks.
MR: ofc, night Dekubro :)
Midoriya left the message on read, giving a small smile at the nickname.
“Maybe it’s okay that I was born..” he muttered, “at least I can help out my one friend when he needs it.”
And that, for a while, was the only thing really keeping him from letting go.
He had a friend.
That was something Midoriya hadn’t truly had in 8 years.
And maybe Midoriya needed his friend too. Maybe some part of him felt useful, for once in his life, for being able to comfort his friend.
But of course, there were days that Midoriya couldn’t do it on his own anymore.
The days where the bullies got to him mentally, then chased him and tried to get to him physically.
The days when the students sitting behind him would draw or scratch the words “Deku” and “useless” into his skin. If he made any yelp from pain, the teacher would just tell him to shut up.
The days like today, while Midoriya was running from the bullies, one eye black, one arm burned, and his lip bloodied.
He was trying to escape, to get out before they caught him
Of course, that led to Midoriya half-locking himself in the forgotten janitor’s closet by the school’s cafeteria. He was trying to breathe. One emotion at a time, right? That tactic wasn’t very useful though, since he only had one emotion at the moment: panic.
He couldn’t have a panic attack right now. They can’t hear him, and they can't find him, or they’d hurt him. He didn’t want to hurt. He just wanted one freaking normal day at school. That was too much to ask for himself though, right?
It wasn’t until he heard his phone buzz— it was on the floor, must have fallen out of his back pocket amidst his rush; at least it didn’t crack this time— Midoriya felt some semblance of reassurance at that, wouldn’t have to bring it to his mom and ask her to buy something else again.
MR: i got out of school early tdyyy the guys bathrooms flooded lol
Midoriya barely read the message, his hand shaking, dangerously close to dropping the phone once more. He couldn’t type a reply but he needed help. His chest hurt and his head was loud.
The screen got slightly blurrier as the ringing in Midoriya’s ears loudened, and two more messages seemed to pop up.
With whatever pathetic attempt he had at doing anything right, Midoriya went to MR’s contact, clumsily pushing the call button.
It only took one ring for him to pick up; Midoriya almost sobbed. His chest hurt like hell.
“Deku? This isn’t audio call, y’know that, right- I can see you—”
Shit. No, he didn’t know that, but Midoriya didn’t know if he had it in him to hang up. His friend didn’t even seem to look at the camera yet.
“I can- woah, hey! Are you okay man?”
Midoriya couldn’t breathe properly, how the hell was he supposed to respond properly?
“Okay, crap, you’re having a panic attack- probably– just, can you try a breathing exercise with me?—”
Midoriya nodded, vaguely recognizing another person on MR’s side of the call, probably his mom, who MR went on mute to respond to for a moment. Midoriya couldn’t see the screen properly; he could only make out that MR had black hair.
“Okay, can you try breathing in?” MR asked, coming back, “great now hold it for one.. two, three, now out for three. One.. two, three, good okay-”
Midoriya was following along best he could, resting for four seconds before inhaling for three seconds again, per his friend’s guidance. He the fuck could be possible suck at even breathing?
It took a little while, but Midoriya recovered his airways soon enough, letting his body calm down as well. His knee slowed its bouncing and his hands eventually stilled. His shirt didn’t feel quite as suffocating. The material still felt too thick, but that was okay enough for now. He was still anxious, but not overwhelmingly so.
“Holy crap, are you okay?” his friend asked.
Midoriya sniffled, “Yeah, hah, why wouldn’t I be?” The sarcasm was heavy when he mumbled out.
“Maybe because you called me while having a panic attack? Or because of the huge bruise on your eye? Or the fact that you’re bleeding, and- what the hell happened to your arm– are those…-”
Midoriya didn’t give him the chance to finish.
Fuck. It was a fucking video call, Izuku remember for the second time.Midoriya seemed to finally recover his senses.
The second he processed that he’d shown all his injuries to his friend, he ended the call as soon as he could.
He wasn’t completely rude though, so he sent a quick, “Thanks, sorry had to go,” to his friend.
Of course, an onslaught of messages came after that from MR.
MR: dude, r u ok??
MR: r u still at school?
MR: who the hell beat you up that badly??
MR: Deku, I’m being serious. If you’re getting hurt at school or at home, you need to tell smbdy.
MR: ik I said I won’t pry. I’ll back off if u want, js stay safe pls
MR: I consider you a friend, man. If u ever need help, js say so.
Midoriya frowned, anger creeping up on him.
He couldn’t get “help”. He didn’t need help. And he sure as hell couldn’t tell somebody he was getting beat up- not when nobody at his school cared in the first place. Why would somebody outside of the school have a different reaction?
MR was trying his best to be there for him, but Midoriya wasn’t used to people caring, and maybe that was why he downloaded the app: to feel somebody care. But now? Midoriya knew that he was far too invested and had shared far too much.
He pressed delete on the app.
Well, that was a waste of six fucking weeks.
It was a stupid idea. Stupid to call MR, stupid to have befriended him, and stupid to have gotten the app in the first place.
Midoriya scraped his fingers into his thigh, probably scratching off some of the scabs beneath his clothes.
“Stupid Deku..” Midoriya mumbled to himself before he heard it raspily echoed back.
“Do I hear a stupid, useless, Deku?”
Shit.
The door to the closet swung open; Midoriya felt his shirt collar choke him momentarily as he was pulled off the floor and pushed against the shelves in the closet.
“Finally… done running, dumbass?” one of Bakugo’s goons asked.
“Or are you just gonna cry,” the other mimicked a whiny voice.
“Nah, he isn’t crying yet.. but I’ll make him,” Bakugo smirked.
Midoriya did his best and tuned out what happened after he’d felt a sharp pain (probably a knee) to his stomach. Luckily,’ he hadn’t eaten anything that day, so he didn’t throw up again this time.
Well that’s a depressing bright side. Midoriya couldn’t exactly think of anything better than it at the moment though.
He wished he had a friend again. He wished MR could help him. He wished he could accept the help.
But Midoriya couldn’t. The only thing he’d seem to have grown used to receiving and accepting now, was pain. Blood, yelling. Frankly, though? Even all of that was beginning to lose its effect.