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Midoriya is floating. His eyes aren't open, but he feel himself off the ground, into the space of nothing. He's neither warm or cold, he is just at a sense of peace.
He opens his eyes.
The sun is hot against his face. The blankets are pooled around his shoulders, smelling like pine trees and peppermint.
"Izuku," A voice says.
Midoriya waves it off, keeping his eyes closed. He lets out a sound close to a groan, but so soft it may have gone unheard.
A hand brushes against his face. He peels one eye open, but can't find it in himself to be annoyed when Todoroki's smiling face looks down at him.
He's got pure adoration leaking from every crease, and his bi-colored eyes are bright and gorgeous.
"You're beautiful in the morning," He hums. His fingers are gently pressed against Midoriya's cheeks, tracing the dark freckles along his face.
"Does that mean I don't have to get up?" Izuku mummers, chest filling with warmth as Shoto laughs.
He gets up anyways, though, because he wouldn't miss a morning with his beloved for anything in the world.
Todoroki looks him up and down, in a plain rumpled t-shirt and briefs, and leans in to kiss his forehead. Midoriya rubs at his eyes, leaning into the touch.
Shoto pulls away, "Go wash your face and brush your teeth. I made breakfast."
"Coffee?" Izuku asks him as he walks over to the bathroom, tossing a glance over his shoulder to see Shoto's reply.
"Of course," His beloved replies, "I always do, for you."
Shoto isn't much of a coffee drinker—Midoriya has watched a lot of his habits, has collected everything he could grasp—and he much rather prefers the drink of a strawberry smoothie.
Izuku teases him for being basic, but kissing Todoroki with the sweetness on his lips, the cold sensation on his tongue against Midoriya's warm one, is a delightful feeling that he hasn't had enough of just yet.
In the mirror, after freshing himself up, Midoriya eyes the numerous lovebites on his neck. They're dark red—no longer the deep purple they were yesterday night—and his hand shoots up to softly brush them.
"They're temporary, you know." Shoto says from behind him, a smile teasing in his tone.
Izuku jumps. When he turns, there's a glare in his eyes, and a pout on his face. "Go to the kitchen. I'm getting ready."
Todoroki holds his hand out. Midoriya takes it without a moment's hesitation. Todoroki pulls him close, their stomach's pressed together through fabric, grinning while watching his lover try to fight a smile.
He kisses Izuku's lips, soft and moist, easing his hand down to Izuku's hip and resting there.
"You said we'd have breakfast," Izuku mutters, playful accusation in his tone.
"We can," The innuendo is clear. Midoriya turns red and shifts in his hold.
Todoroki just laughs, and tugs at his hand, "C'mon."
They make their way to the kitchen, which is warm from the recently cooked food. There's plates set on their small table, covered with a ray of dishes.
Midoriya glances down at their mugs.
"You're drinking coffee," He states, dumbfounded.
Todoroki looks at him in surprise, like he's shocked he noticed. "Yes, there's ice cubes in it."
Izuku fumbles for a reply, but has none, so he sits and begins munching on scrambled eggs.
Todoroki is a good chef, this he has known since highschool. Though he has no passion for it—the task was simply a thing for creating new flavors of soba—Midoriya thinks it's cute how he cooks for them when he can.
Shoto kisses him after he swallows half of his plate. He taste like eggs and bacon, the toothpaste melted away from his mouth, grease on his lips.
"I started drinking coffee," Todoroki starts, then pauses. He looks like he's debating with himself.
Izuku reaches for his hand, grasping it into his own, settling them on the side of the table. He sips his coffee with his free hand. His stomach swarms with butterflies when Shoto smiles at him.
"I started drinking coffee," He repeats, more confident, "because of you. I like it cold—everything is always better cold, this you know, Izuku."
He squeezes his lovers hand.
"You taste like it, a lot. You drink it, a lot. I thought that maybe I just liked kissing you—which I do! But... the taste of coffee is swell."
Midoriya nods him on.
Shoto sighs, and he pulls an embarrassing smile as he says, flushed, "Coffee taste like you. Wherever I go, as long as I have it, I have the you with me."
Izuku's heart races in his chest. Todoroki's smile is a permanent feature on his face.
Midoriya is glued to his chair as he looks around, and things begin to fade, crackle, crumble away. There's a sharp pain in his stomach, but he can't look down, can't look away, and he's stuck—he's useless as Shoto, too, begins to break into pieces, the smile still present on his lips.
His eyes are wide in fear as Todoroki's hand is no longer warm under his—it is no longer under his at all.
Izuku screams, lurching forward, reaching for his beloved, grasping at nothing—
Midoriya is floating, but he is no longer at peace. He slams into the nothingness with a gasp, coughs his way through a dry throat and the memories.
If he doesn't wake up now, will he ever have that? Will he ever get that? Will he have that moment again, to be content and safe and warm?
No, his mind argues. If don't get up, you've already lost it all.
There's a pressure in his chest. He is no longer floating—he is drowning, sputtering as his breathes in water and his throat is clogged with the salty taste.
Don't give up. He needs you. We need you.
Todoroki sitting in the living room, a smile on his lips, the taste of Midoriya's name lays in his mouth—
Todoroki plays in the snow, grinning, I haven't done this before—
Todorki laughs, laughs, laughs, is on the floor with a shaking stomach—
Come to me, says Todoroki, all you have to do is wake up—
Midoriya opens his eyes, then.