Chapter Text
The sky is clear and blue. Through the open window, the breeze comes, full of eastern ocean air and the scents from the garden near the house. It’s mid afternoon when Todoroki lays down, his body far too tired to make it past the doorway. He’d thought to take a walk that day, down to the shore, past the lighthouse, the one he could see from his porch—his favorite. But when morning came, he hadn’t been able to make it further than a few steps before he couldn’t catch his breath. He’s not worried; he’d watched the waves break on the shore, the lighthouse swathed in morning sun through his window just a few hours before. It was beautiful. Not bad for the last thing he’d see.
It had been a quiet life ever since he’d lost Midoriya, and Todoroki Shouto has a quiet death.
For a moment, there is a blink of non-existence, pure nothingness, but before there’s any time for fear, he smells lavender and hyacinth and honey. Warmth blooms over his face like sunshine.
Except, when he opens his eyes, he realizes it’s not the sun, not at all—
Midoriya. Midoriya, Midoriya, Midoriya.
Smiling, so wide, so bright, his eyes nearly shut with the fullness of it, laying overtop Todoroki, holding himself up on his arms to he can stare down at him.
Oh, how many dreams he’s had that start like this. Every night for decades; dreams of Midoriya pressing him down, the full weight of his body spread over Todoroki’s own to the point of suffocation. He’d wake up gasping, scrambling in the sheets to find him, he was just there, only moments before. For as harsh as the waking was, he welcomed sleep, because for those few moments he had him back. That was all he’d wanted.
This must be another one of those dreams.
It has to be.
“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”
He hasn’t heard that voice in so long. Not like this, so real, so soft and beautiful. It’s warm and sparkling and Todoroki’s throat tightens. He cries, thick trembling sobs that shake his whole body. He may as well have spent the last years of his life shrouded in silence because Midoriya’s voice makes him feel as if he’s hearing for the first time. It’s sunshine. It’s light.
“Oh, baby,” Midoriya says. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry for me.”
If only he knew how many tears Todoroki has shed for him.
Tears that Midoriya now kisses as they spill over and run down his cheeks. He gasps for air and wipes his face.
When he notices his hand, he starts, seeing that it’s not wrinkled and twisted. He frowns and runs a hand over his lips, his face, down his neck. His bones don’t ache, he doesn’t feel so tired, he’s not old. He’s young again. He’s young again and Midoriya is there, laying on him the way they used to when things weren’t so sad. Is he—
“Am I dead?”
Midoriya softens. He’s traced by a warm light. The answer is obvious.
He nods. Todoroki never thought he’d be this happy to have died.
Todoroki grips Midoriya’s face and thinks he’s died again from how good it feels to hold him again. He brings him down and keeps his eyes on Midoriya’s, not wanting to miss a moment of it.
The kiss is easy and warm and they fit together like they always had. Todoroki thinks there can be no words in any language, no emotion deep enough, to describe what it’s like to kiss Midoriya again.
Maybe he died with him, all those years ago, and has been brought back to life here, finally.
“Shouto,” Midoriya murmurs against his lips. He moves back and smiles. “Now that you’re here, we can do whatever we want.”
He wraps his arms around his back and settles him wholly flush to his body so he can feel Midoriya’s laugh in his own chest.
“Whatever we want, Izuku?”
He nods and tucks his face into Todoroki’s neck. “Whatever we want.”
“Then,” Todoroki says, kissing the top of Midoriya’s head, “I want to marry you.”