Work Text:
Week 1 -
Deku,
These letters are stupid, you’re stupid, this therapy shit is stupid—why am I addressing these to you in the first place?
My therapist made me do this. Said it’s a good way to express myself or some shit. I don’t see the point. Why should I write a fucking "letter" to someone if they’re never even gonna read it?
This is stupid. I’ve said that already, but she said I should express myself so what the hell! This is stupid. But it’s not as stupid as you going across the ocean without telling anyone. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even say goodbye to us! You didn’t even say goodbye to me.
—
Week 4 -
Deku,
So we’re doing this again. Therapist said I should open up a little more, talk about my day. Well, my day was shitty.
I couldn’t saved her. She was this little girl, no more than five, I think. She reminded me of you. They way she smiled through everything like she’d be okay, the way she was so confident that her heroes, I, would save the day—that I would at least save her.
But I couldn’t save her. She died before I could even get her to the paramedics.
If you were here, you’d have saved her. You’d be fast enough to get her out of the building, you’d be fast enough to bring her to safety. You were always good at rescuing, weren’t you?
I hate that I couldn’t do the same.
—
Week 8 -
Deku,
I can’t believe how good it feels to sleep in for once. Maybe it’s on me for taking on so many damn hours (and if I didn’t, how the hell would I make it to number 1?!), but God does it just feel. Good.
It’s a little weird, though. Not having shit to do. Normally I’d at least have some paperwork to fill out, but I finished that two days ago. Bah, why am I complaining? Paperwork is tiresome as hell anyways! Still. That’s probably why I’m writing this now. Gets my brain working and not wandering.
It’s been wandering a lot these days.
—
Week 17 -
Deku,
The “Bakusquad”, as they’ve been calling themselves, (It’s a fucking stupid name. Shoulda been called the “Dumbass Squad” instead.) decided to drag me out to some bar to celebrate me breaking top 50 yesterday. Shitty hair and the other extras tried to get me to sing karaoke. Did I do it? God no. Was I tempted to do it just so I could shut Pinky and Pikachu up? God yes. But it wasn’t that bad. Could have been a lot worse. It was definitely better than that time the fucking paparazzi followed us to some club. What the hell did they think they were gonna get out of it? “Local Hero Has the Audacity to Have Fun Every Once in a While”?
Anyways. I’ve been keeping track of the rankings in America. Looks like you already broke top 50 weeks ago. Heh, we don’t even live in the same country anymore and you’re still tryna beat me.
—
Week 33 -
Deku,
I visited my parents for the first time in months today. Annoying as hell. The old hag kept yapping in my ear about me coming over more often. I don’t know, maybe she has a point. She ain’t getting any younger, ha.
It was nice, though. I helped Dad make dinner, and it tasted pretty damn good, too.
I also got to see the bedroom I had when I was a kid again. It still has all my old shit in it, save for some hero merch that I brought with me to the apartment. You didn’t come over very often, did you? Actually, I think you stopped coming over during middle school. Then again, I can’t blame you.
Which reminds me. How’s it going for you over in America? Auntie said she still talks to you over the phone.
You know, Christmas is coming up pretty soon. Are you spending it with anyone?
—
Week 46 -
Deku,
It’s fucking insane how it’s been almost a year since you hauled your ass across the ocean and left the country. I don’t know why I’m still so damn hung up on you. It’s not like we were anything to begin with. Hell, were we even friends? It’s impossible to tell now. Auntie’s asked me if I’ve talked to you yet. When I told her no, she offered to give me your number. I said no to that, too. I don’t know why she still treats me like I didn’t treat you like shit our whole childhood. But honestly, it makes me feel a little relieved. That if I can still talk to her, there’s still hope to talk to you. But you know, I won’t talk to you. Because I can’t.
You were always chasing after me. It was hard to wrap my head around when I was younger. How someone I kept pushing away never stopped coming back. Up until now, that is. I’m pretty sure the roles are reversed now. Here’s to me chasing after someone who doesn’t even live in Japan anymore.
I’m hoping you come back, but I’m also hoping you don’t. Because I don’t think I can stand to face you in the state that I‘m in now, and in the state that you’re in now. But I don’t think I can stand to face you period. I don’t think I can stand seeing your freckled skin, your too-green eyes, that stupid bird’s nest you call hair, your indelible smile: you. Maybe it’s better if we don’t see each other again.
—
Week 51 -
Deku,
I don’t know why the first person I want to write these damn therapy letters to is always you. “Maybe it’s ‘cause you’ve been together for so long,” is what my therapist says. “And now that he’s gone, you’re doing what you can to hang on to any semblance of him.” I’d call it bullshit if it wasn’t true. But just because it’s true doesn’t mean it doesn’t annoy the hell out of me.
There’s another thing that bothers me about these letters. It’s how I write them like I’m talking to you, like I’m spilling all these built up feelings and letting you see every part of me, but I’m not. I’m just an idiot who doesn’t have the goddamn courage to pick up the phone and tell these to you in person. I’m just an idiot who has to rant about you in a letter for you but at the same time not for you. I’m just an idiot who lov—
I still haven’t gotten a hang of ending these things properly. But back then it was because these were too short; how am I supposed to end something that had nothing to begin with? Now these are just too long, too long to make me want to stop. Too long to make me want to tell myself it’s over. Too long.
It’s been too long since I’ve last seen you. I miss you.
—
Week 53 -
Deku,
I ran into Auntie again while getting groceries. She told me I should talk to you at some point. I told her no, like I’ve been doing for the past couple months, but she ended up talking to the old hag later that day and got her to give me your number.
She reminds me of you a lot. Persistent to a fault. I still don’t know why she’s so keen on getting us to talk, though. But now I don’t have the excuse of avoiding you because I don’t have your number. Maybe I might call you, maybe I won’t. Do you want me to call you? Do I have the right to?
Mina and the others were pestering me about this class reunion. It’s supposed to happen in a few weeks. Are you gonna be there? You never mentioned how long you were gonna stay in America for. Then again, I never bothered to ask. I don’t know if I’ll be there. Maybe I will go, at least to get the Idiot Squad to shut up about it already.
I feel like I’m getting soft. At least, looking back from when I first started writing these letters. My therapist says that it’s not me getting soft, it’s me learning to open up more. But still. Soft. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I’m leaving for work in a few minutes. Villains won’t arrest themselves, amiright? I wonder how hero work is going on your end.
You know, maybe I will try calling you.
—