Toshinori is already dying when he finally admits to Shota how he feels, even knowing that Shota and Hizashi are in some sort of relationship. He's expecting his friends to be a bit softer maybe, hoping that they won't be angry that he feels this way. He can't help falling in love, even if he is on the way out and he's in love with a taken man. He's not expecting anything. He just needs it out before he dies because the weight of it would surely crush him.
He's not expecting Shota to break completely, right there in the break room with Hizashi casually grading papers at the small table. He doesn't know what to do when the smaller man crumbles at his feet and looks to Hizashi, finds him with a hand over his mouth and tears welling in violently green eyes. Toshinori's hand goes to Shota's hair, long bony fingers threading through the slightly greasy strands and feeling the man practically convulse under his touch.
He doesn't realize that the man at his feet has been in love with him for so long. At least since he retired, probably before. How many times he and Hizashi had talked "what if's" and "somedays" for when the time was right. Toshinori doesn't know how sweet and how cruel his admission is. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Shota rises abruptly and activates his quirk, face streaked with tears, just in time for a sob rivaling one of his protégés to break through the hands clamped over the voice hero's mouth.
Toshinori watches quietly, sitting where he stood when he realizes a bit late that his legs are about to buckle as the last of his adrenaline fizzles out. The two across the room begin to settle, Shota taking a few steps forward until their foreheads are touching. Sobs transition to sniffles, and then to quiet whispers between them. Lips brush as they speak and Toshinori makes his way toward the door, trying to quietly excuse himself when he's hit with a coughing fit that has his vision swimming and ears ringing.
The other men move almost as one as they guide him to the well worn couch a few feet away, pressing a palmful of tissues into one hand and a bottle of water into the other. Their voices are soft, soothing. They sit with a hand on each of his bony shoulders until he can catch his breath. Their hands fall away when he collapses back into the cushions and he can feel eyes on him even with his eyes closed. They don't speak until his breathing is its usual steady click and wheeze.
"How long?" Shota asks so quietly that Toshinori has to hold his breath to hear the man.
It takes a minute for the words to sink in. He hasn't actually told any of them he's dying. Not even young Midoriya. But he knows that the other two heroes are sharp. They've seen death before and they know it's fast approaching, ready to pull him under. His voice catches in his throat and he lets his eyes fall shut as he struggles to force the words out.
"The longest estimate has been about a year." He wants to run, wants to mask his emotions behind All Might's smile, but he can't seem to hide in front of the two men beside him.
Weight shifts on his right and warm air puffs across his jaw. He finds himself turning into it unconsciously, eyes fluttering open in time to catch the most intense expression he's ever seen in the erasure hero's eyes before they're closing and warm, slightly chapped lips are over his own. He exhales into the kiss like he's been punched in the gut, eyes falling shut without his consent. Suddenly, there's nothing else but the feeling of those lips on his, tongue licking in gently, hot breath coming in heavy pants. His lung burns in a plea for oxygen, but he'll gladly let the man over him steal his last breath if it means he doesn't have to let go of this feeling.
When they pull away, Toshinori wants to feel shame. He was just kissing a man in front of his boyfriend, after all. But when he turns to apologize to Hizashi, the expression on the man's face is so blindingly joyful that he forgets to breathe for a beat. His smile is wide and bright, voice thick with emotion when he speaks.
"A year, huh? That looked like one hell of a way to make up for lost time." His laugh is rich and booming, his usual self coming to the surface even as his hands tug one of Shota's over and clasp Toshinori's around it.
And just like the melting snow gives way to spring, Toshinori let's the warmth in his chest bloom and the best months of his life begin.