Requiem of the Unrequited
There's so much more to love then the incessant butterflies and insipid giggling bursting forth with bright melodies inside your chest. There's more than a symphonic beating of your own heart as it lines up in rhythm with another and more than the simple longing of that special person's eyes gazing straight into your own.
People speak of love as if it's some one-dimensional emotion that makes you a blushing, stuttering mess but really it is so much more.
It isn't so simple as one thing or one feeling. It's legion. It is many. It's a cacophony of emotion resounding from your soul and calling like a siren song to the person that it's played for. A symphony of sounds orchestrated to the unique and distinct feelings of the heart composing it. It is a melody on the wind, soft and sweet, that ages and progresses over time. Sometimes dark, sometimes light but always true. It is emotion set to the score of one's own humanity.
It's admiration.
Rejection.
Denial.
Fear.
Failure.
Acceptance.
Desire.
There are so many context clues one has to read in order to partake in the deep mystery that love tries imprinting upon their heart, and at times they are so subtle, they can be missed.
Katsuki Bakugou is 4 years old when he hears the melody of love stirring in his heart for the first time. His mother is talking animatedly to a cheerful woman who tries coaxing her shy son out from behind her legs. As soon as the deep forest pools lock on to Katsuki's own fiery embers the flame ignites…but he's too young to recognize it.
And too young to resist its pull.
All he knows is he wants that gaze upon him, and he seeks it out at every turn. The boys name is Izuku Midoriya, and they become best friends. Dreaming big and laughing bigger as they scamper through early childhood playing All Might, catching fireflies and wiping tears from dusty cheeks.
At 7 years old the melody changes, a minor score thick with bass rumbles through his chest and he processes it the only way he knows how: Rage. His anger had always been a rabid dog ready to bite, thrashing wildly about inside his ribs. When his quirk finally manifested it was temporarily quelled and replaced with a deep-set sense of confidence and pride but in one fell swoop it returns. He comes to believe the object of his affection looks down on him and he tastes rejection for the very first time. It's unknown and bitter in his mouth, threatening to suffocate him under a tremendous weight that he has never felt before in his meager seven years of life. So, he rejects him right back, to protect himself and to protect his pitiful pride.
At 12 years old a chorus can be heard, low and sweet, it sings of verdant hills and valleys. Of mountains he has yet to climb. Emerald orbs glow at him in the darkness of his room when he's alone and a strange stirring in his loins occurs. Heat pools in his belly, stiff and uncomfortable as he ruts against the sheets hardly understanding why. The name "Deku" falling from his lips over and over again. He continues to be cruel but delights in the way the other boy's curls dance in the wind as he chases after him. Convincing himself that nothing has changed.
At 13 years old the nerd is still shooting for UA- Same school as Katsuki. He has no quirk, no training and no hope. He'll kill himself and then what will Katsuki do? They can't be heroes together, but he can still be Deku's hero. He pushes him, burns him, taunts him and makes it clear what will happen if he continues chasing after this stupid pipe dream. Katsuki has a powerful quirk so he uses it to show Deku exactly what happens to a quirkless nobody when they go up against a stronger opponent. He does it to keep him safe, hidden under the mask of his intense ire.
Even to himself and the song develops an undercurrent of tribal drums, sounding for war; His fragile ego feeds the thrum. He will win. No matter what and Izuku will learn his place.
At 14 years old Katsuki is dying. The tempo slows and sounds like a death march to his soul. The sludge covers his nose and mouth and no matter how he struggles it's all in vain. He thinks of Izuku, and like a beacon of hope, he sees a flash of green. When it's all over, humiliation is all he can feel. He's supposed to save Deku, not the other way around. He's failed.
At 15 he's admitted to UA and so is the nerd. Turns out Deku had a quirk all along, hiding it from him and laughing it up behind his back. The notes turn sour and can't find a place inside the melody. They sound like an angry child trouncing on piano keys, a temper tantrum of uncoordinated sounds that make his stomach sick. He eventually learns to let them go, and the song comes back to him tenfold.
At 17 he admits the truth to himself. He's watching Icy-Hot tuck a loose curl behind the dork's ear while he mumbles over his notebook and the bright shining grin lights up the other boy's face as he thanks him. Those smiles used to be his, and only his. Katuski has always been confident, too confident, or arrogant if you ask his old hag so this feeling is new. Lyrics start, a fresh verse that he instantly recognizes because it sums up every feeling in his heart. He quickly leans into it and makes it his own.
Jealousy.
He plots fifty different ways to shoot that half and half bastard to the moon before he heaves a great sigh and wipes a tired hand down his face. He wants those smiles all to himself and the chorus ends with a soft:
Because I loved him first.
It is the first time he realizes that the song is a ballad, something that only plays for himself and Izuku. The realization makes him feel weak, so he pushes the feelings down and hides them.
At 22 Katsuki is about to explode. Izuku is his hero partner. Their dream has finally come true, and they are unstoppable in the field. The press calls them the Wonder Duo. The Symbol of Hope and the Symbol of Victory. The bridge to his song is added soon, it's beat is fast staccato notes that inspire something akin to hope deep in his chest, but he quickly rejects it, squashing it down flat under his fist. He tells himself that it's too late. That he's waited too long.
Izuku is no longer his.
Now he has to share Deku with the world. He tries to ignore the way Izuku's thighs pull tight in his uniform when he springs into action against a villain. He tries to ignore the heat in his cheeks when Deku bites his bottom lip and smiles nervously at him from across their shared office. He wills his blood to run cold, but it heats anytime Deku knocks their shoulders together, or he squeezes Katsuki's shoulder after a well won battle where they both stand exhausted while the smoke clears.
His heart is ground zero and the impending blast will surely shatter it into a million pieces. After everything he's done, he doesn't deserve the praise and adulation that Izuku still lavishes upon him. He acts as though he doesn't want it but honestly, it's the only thing keeping him going these days. He would die for him, a thousand deaths if necessary, anything to protect him but he can't say it so the song replays again:
Because I loved him first.
He can't say the words, so they remain on the tip of his tongue, before turning to ash inside his mouth. Making it hard to breath.
He tries to show him instead, in a thousand different ways.
But the nerd never notices, and things stay the same.
At 23 he sneaks away in the dead a night from some extra's apartment in the city that had soft green eyes. They weren't deep pools of intelligence and admiration that overflowed bright clear emotion, but he had enough whiskey in his system that he could pretend for a while. He went home disgusted with himself after fucking the poor sod through the mattress. When the man tried to kiss him afterwards, he turned his cheek, muttering drunkenly about having things to do. He just wanted to relieve the pressure in his chest, if even for a moment but instead he left feeling no better than before he came. For although his body was temporarily sated, his soul was mired in dark oil that threatened to suffocate him.
He fears the song is ending soon and that the last verse will sing of love lost, because everyone loves Izuku now, and he's bound to settle down with some loser extra eventually. They'll never deserve him, but it doesn't matter because Katuski doesn't either.
Izuku wasn't his and he never would be.
It was time for him to face the truth.
At 24 years old he makes a choice. He knows he'll never get over these feelings so long as he sticks so close to the flames, but surely its better to be warmed by the most beautiful fire in all of existence then to live life in the darkness? Fire has cleansing properties and can be used to cauterize a wound. So, he does his best to excise this horrible love in his heart like an infection, to let it grow numb, the scar tissue hardening it and protecting him; Making him grow more resilient. He has survived so much. He can survive this too. Some nights are worse than others, but Katuski knows it is better to burn up than to die cold and alone. Izuku and he are friends again, best friends, and any kind of life with the nerd is better than nothing at all. So, he bites down on the sting, grips it and makes it his own. The pain defines him, drives, makes him strong.
At least that's what he tells himself. The old familiar song plays though his mind as he falls asleep each night, his own requiem of the unrequited and it's so familiar now that he finds comfort in it and rests. When he's sleeping, he has no control over what he dreams, and his brain acquiesces to the desire of his poor, battered heart. Allowing him to be bathed in visions of green and gold, of praises falling haplessly from cherry blossom lips bitten raw, their bodies moving in sync to the tempo that Katsuki now embraces as his own heart song. He pretends the last coming verse will be a happy one.
Now, at 25 years old Katsuki sits in a familiar bar, full of familiar faces drinking down his pain with each burning sip of the sour mash whiskey. The Bakusquad were gathered for Kirishima's birthday, a small but exuberant affair of their closest friends full of laughter and joy. When you come so close to death each day, you celebrate each new year with fervor. You tell death, not yet and it waits. An ever-looming specter hanging over you and those you love, whispering snidely that it will come soon enough. So, you laugh, smile and hold those you care about a little closer for as long as you can. You celebrate life while it's still there for the living. His friends, as he has now learned to accept that they are, are happy in this moment.
But not Katuski.
His face is twisted into a comfortable scowl, his face's default setting as he stares into the amber liquid like he's scrying for answers in a magic mirror. Unamused but unsurprised that it holds none. The happy couples all around him laugh and talk loudly with one another. They include him in every conversation, they hug him against his will and shower him in praise and teasing.
But it isn't what he wants.
He looks up over the glossy wooden surface of the bar and sees a mirror. Within it, reflected in the cold hard glass is a face he barely recognizes. A mask he has adopted over the years of a cold and calloused indifference. So, when the nerd walks in, his musical laugh so clearly discernible over the din of other voices, Icy-Hot cozied up deep to his side, he steels his nerves and checks his mask one last time in the glass to make sure it's clearly in place.
He greets them with his trademark sneer, being careful to throw out enough insults as not to be suspicious then returns unceremoniously to his glass. Right now, whiskey is his only friend. He hardly notices the small presence slip into the chair next to him, until it whispers softly in his ear.
"I know your secret."
"What the fuck are you on about Ears?" Katsuki spat, spittle spraying from his mouth as he sneered derisively at the small purple haired girl.
Kyouka Jirou wiped her face with a small look of disgust in her eyes, her calm pensive eyes otherwise completely impassive to Bakugou's verbal assault. He had been screaming obscenities at all of them for the better part of a decade and she had grown immune to it sometime during their first year.
Truth was, for all his bluster, Katsuki was a kind and caring friend. He couldn't say it, or perhaps just wouldn't, but Jirou knew. After leaving school the two had become good friends. Their hero schedules often lined up and their patrols bordered one another. She wasn't one for working out but she and Bakugou got drinks at her place and listened to music quite a bit when he wasn't otherwise engaged with the Bakusquad or Midoriya. They even played together sometimes. She had taught him guitar years ago back at UA and every so often he would condescend to play with her. If she got him drunk enough, he might even sing a little. She always loved it when he did, his coarse tenor voice soothed her rough edges on a bad day and six shots of whiskey was the key to unlocking the song that lived in Katsuki Bakugou's soul.
Tonight, was a night she figured they could both use the release. As soon as Midoriya walked in, Bakugou tensed and scowled. Everyone else only saw the mask he wore. His normal discontent etched plainly in the furrowed brow and intense stare. Jirou, however, had been allowed privy to the forlornity of Bakugou's heart on too many occasions. He never confessed to her or anything, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure it out.
Bakugou was in love with someone who didn't love him back.
She recognized it because she was in the same boat. The S.S. Lovesick setting sail in uncharted turbulent waves where they would all surely wreck and drown.
For Jirou it was Momo Yaoyorozu. The buxom beauty had bewitched her, body and soul, and Jirou didn't have the nerve to confess. Mostly because Momo was pining too, her affections aimed at the shy Shouto Todoroki who remained pitifully oblivious. Despite all Momo's beauty, brains and wealth she remained painfully insecure. Her time at UA had done wonders for her confidence in the field, but nothing for her confidence in the sack.
Jirou sighed and sipped her beer, making eye contact with Bakugou in the long ornate mirror behind the liquor bottles on the other side of the bar. The red piercing stare was relentless, but her own large brown eyes met them head on without fear.
"I know you're in love with Midoriya," She retorted softly, "And I know a little something about unrequited love my friend. I suffer from it to."
"Fuck off," He scoffed, throwing the amber liquid back without even flinching.
"You drink too much," She said.
"You talk too much," He snapped back, quick as a whip and Jirou laughed.
"So, let's get out of here," she countered, "We'll play some music, get disgustingly drunk and forget about them for the night."
Bakugou rolled his shoulders back and sat up straight before turning to face her.
"You too, huh?" He asked softly, a frown still angling at his mouth.
"Yeah," she whispered. "It's hard watching this tangled fucking mess we're in."
"I'm not in some tangled mess," He said, scoffing derisively and waving at the bartender who quiclly auntered over. The man knew better than to keep Bakugou waiting. "One more plus my tab Bluey."
"Bullshit," Kirou said laughing louder, "You and me? We are in the same tangled web of bullshit. I like Momo, Momo likes Todo, Todo likes Mido and you like Mido."
She nodded sagely as he stared at her dumbstruck in the mirror, "And who knows who the heck Mido likes. The freckeld fucker has the best poker face I've ever seen! Honestly, at least you have a shot, ya know?"
"Dunno why you say that," Katsuki muttered throwing his credit card down on the small plastic tray before turning to face her, deink firmly in hand. "Maybe you haven't noticed or some shit, but Deku and I are just friends. He don't see me that way. Never will."
He offered a small cheers to the bartender for topping off his glass before the cerulean haired man walked off with his bill, "Don't know how anyone could think the nerd would look twice at me."
"Kacchan sugoi," Jirou said laughing into the top of her long neck, causing a high pitch whistle to echo from the glass.
Bakugou wheeled around and leered in her face menacingly.
"Don't fucking say that shit," He sneered.
"Why?" She said leaning right back into the angry blonde's space, "Does Midoriya hold a monopoly on all your praise? Other people can't use it?"
"Anyone can tell me how great I am," he said settling back smugly, "Because I fucking am. Now fuck off Ears, you're giving me a headache."
"Fine," she replied with a shrug, "If you want to sit here and watch those two together all night go right on ahead. I was just trying to be nice."
She quickly slid off her barstool and smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. She hadn't made it two steps before Bakugou had fallen in step beside her.
"You still got that bottle of whiskey at your place?" He asked, one golden eyebrow arched towards the ceiling. "I ain't going unless we're getting completely shitfaced."
"Oh, trust me," She said glancing back over her shoulder to see Momo blushing furiously at Todoroki who spoke with his arm slung over Midoriya's shoulders. "We're getting totally shitfaced. You aren't any fun until you've had at least six shots or more."
"Well," He replied with a low slur, "I've already had four, so I guess we're having fun."
"Good."
"S'Fucking great," He responded throwing one arm behind his head and ruffling his hair. He gave one last forlorn glance over his shoulder before clicking his tongue and sucking air harshly through his perfect teeth. "Let's get the fuck oughtta here then."
An old punk rock classic started to blare from the jukebox and Jirou smiled to herself. Perfect exit music for two hapless renegades in love as they left to drown their sorrows in whiskey and beer.
She glanced back one last time to see Todoroki leaning his chin on Midoriya's shoulder while they talked with Momo, Ochako and Iida. She may have imagined it, but she thought the red in Midoriya's face was more from discomfort than embarassment.
"America? That's so amazing Todoroki! I'm so happy for you both!"
Momo smiled despite the fact that her words felt like broken glass upon her tongue, cutting her restraint to shreds. Her voice broke and she quickly excused herself, walking as calmly as possible towards the restroom. She glanced back and saw Midoriya untangle himself from Shouto's drunken embrace, looking red faced and flattered by the attention of the handsome man.
'He must not be comfortable with public displays of affection,' she thought bitterly before turning around, the dark brown eyes full of tears.
She made it to the small bathroom at the back of the bar and quickly locked the door, letting loose a small wail of despair. It echoed harshly off the tile walls and assaulted her ears from every angle. She slapped her hands angrily on the edge of the sink and scolded herself to get it together. She was a hero. She dealt with villains, death and despair everyday with a smile on her face. She could handle a little heartbreak.
She always knew that Shouto didn't return her feelings, but she couldn't help but hold out hope for the calm, confident young man she admired so much. They were so compatible. They were both quite attractive by conventional standards and from rich, influential families. They had powerful quirks and had risen quickly through the ranks. She would undoubtedly be a wonderful spouse, doting and attentive, and in her dreams Shouto was the perfect husband.
He would spoil her, since his words were few, but she would know how much he loved her by his small acts of service. She wiped frustrated tears from the corners of her eyes and let out a long, smooth exhale. She turned on the antiquated tap over the cracked porcelain sink and splashed cool water on her face before practicing her smile in the mirror.
Going abroad to help with the riots in America was a huge honor, and Shouto deserved it. So did Midoriya for that matter. The Symbol of Hope. His title was well deserved. Midoriya was always kind and caring, quick to smile, laugh and offer encouragement. He was a sort of favorite among Class A, even Bakugou liked him. She wondered if he knew that Midoriya was leaving to go abroad with Todoroki yet? Judging by his hasty retreat with Jirou she would have to assume so. She couldn't blame the surly blond for being angry this time of course. If her hero partner was leaving for an indefinite amount of time well…
Well, she would be…be…
She would be pissed off too!
She threw her hands up over her crimson lips at the aggressive thought so unlike her, but soon let loose a wild giggle at her own boldness. Even if it was inside her head.
She took a few steadying breaths and let logic seep back into her brain even if it was still slightly fuzzy from the chardonnay. Midoriya was on the fast track to becoming number one, constantly battling for position with Bakugou. He saved with a smile on his boyish face and the public loved him. So of course, Shouto would love him too. The plain boy with freckled cheeks had become a very handsome man as they grew up. He was tall, well, taller than her but shorter than Shouto with broad shoulders, muscular thighs, bulging biceps and a smile that shone like the sun. Being on the receiving end of Midoriya's trademark grin made you feel warm and safe. After his debut he became quite the ladies' man, almost more so than Bakugou or Todoroki. She had found herself lost in more than one thirst trap for the three men after simply trying to glean information on their hero careers. Once, she found a comparative diagnostic between her own breasts and Bakugou's pectorals. It made her blush, but she couldn't help finding it somewhat amusing, nonetheless.
After all, she had won the popular vote at the end of the article but the 'Bakutiddies', as Mina called them, had come in a very close second. Less than one percent had given her the win. She didn't really care of course, she would rather people focused on their hero work than their chests, but she was still proud to have beat the angry blonde at something. He always seemed to come out the victor, no matter what he set his mind to. She had always revered his tenacity, even if she found his over all disposition somewhat unsavory. Bakugou's fan base was somewhat rabid, full of the wildest and crudest characters she had ever laid eyes on. Honestly, they were kind of frightening.
Shouto's fans were much more respectful. Someone like Bakugou just couldn't compare to Shouto's shy calm, or the way people naturally gravitated to his soft, caring demeanor. She couldn't help but think she and her beloved were similar in that way. Still, she was mature enough to admit that beating Bakugou at anything was a win she was happy to accept. Even if it was a contest over who had the best breasts...er, chest.
Midoriya though, well, that was one man she just couldn't compete with. Especially since he and Shouto would be alone together in America, with no set time to return. Shouto had said they would remain until such a time they were deemed unnecessary. So, realistically, it could be days, months, or years. Most likely it would be weeks, but she couldn't help the dire gloom that settled over her at the thought. She knew she should be happy that her love had found someone so honorable and kind, but secretly…
She hated Midoriya for it.
She stepped out of the bathroom after regaining her composure and a slow, sad song seeped down from the overhead speakers, summing up everything she feels. It should make her more sad but instead, it gives her strength. So she holds her head high, wears a smile and quietly sashays back over to where her friends are waiting.