"Takao?" Midorima's voice said, surprisingly high.
"What? It's too early in the morning, turn the light off," He mumbled into the pillow. When he rolled over and Midorima's warmth wasn't there, he sniffed in disappointment.
"Look at me. And then look at yourself," Midorima said calmly, even if his voice was shrill.
So Takao finally lifted his head up.
"Shin-chan! You're a chick!" He said. Wait...wasn't his own voice higher as well. So he looked down at his chest. Instead of seeing a flat chest, he saw boobs.
"Well, this is new and weird. Hopefully temporary," Midorima said. But she got back into bed with Takao.
"We can either figure it out or have sex. Which do you want to do first?"
"Ha, you asked me like that was a question where both options had a fair chance."
It was sweet, what Midorima tried to do for him. Really, it was and Takao appreciated it.
But babying a sick boyfriend was not what he anticipated doing for their anniversary.
"I just wanted to take you out for sushi. I didn't know I was allergic," Midorima explained, curled in the fetal position on their bed. Takao laughed, and rubbing the small of his back.
"I know not to kick a man when he's down. You'll get it where you're better though," He said comfortingly.
"Ugh, I hate being sick!"
It was painful, downright painful, to remember his high school years.
Not everything was bad, midorima allowed grudgingly. There were high test scores, good grades. There was the personal best for points scored in a single game. There was friends-well, no friend, really, but thats when things start to turn sour and Midorima shuts it off.
Once he starts thinking about good things, he can't help but remember his face, one that helped him through so much, was still tucked safely into a warm and cozy corner of his mind. But he never lets himself revisit those days, because then coming back is only more painful. After reminiscing of better days and happiness, the closest to perfection he thinks he'll ever get, returning to stressful classes and overwhelming people that are too damn close and too damn abundant that Midorima thinks about forgetting. Erasing those blissful memories from his mind forever, He knows about the different ways to mentally organize knowledge, with rooms and cabinets that can keep things neat and orderly, disposing of unnecessary things that serve as nothing but clutter. Sometimes, Midorima likes to think that he'll get up the nerve to move all things related to him from their special place–bedside table, first drawer, always locked–and throw them out, delete them forever. Never have to dwell on that boy ever again, no more wasting days and weeks and minutes and seconds on that ridiculous and tragic moment that could be gone in an instant. Suffering through remembrance might break him, might split him down the middle and destroy the small shred of sanity and self that he has left. Because he...he made him better, made him improve himself. Despite the fact that the sheer mention of Ta...him...could quite possibly bring him to his knees, it is undeniable that the boy changed him for the best.
Better not to dwell on it at all.