Work Text:
Midorima walked through the old, wrought iron gates of the cemetery, a bouquet in his hands. He passed tombstones and fancy mausoleums by, heading for one plot in particular.
It was high on a hill, overlooking the city. Takao would have liked it. It had a great view and, with his eyes, he would have been able to see for miles.
When Midorima was tired or feeling particularly, foolishly hopeful, he liked to think that the other man was watching over the city. Watching over him.
He had expected the same scene he came upon every time he paid Takao’s grave a visit. Wilted flowers, ready to be replaced with the fresh ones he held in his hand. But this time, it was different.
When he crested the hill, he dropped his bouquet, his wet, red-rimmed eyes going wide.
The dirt had been disturbed. Fresh earth littered the ground, mixed with the petals of the flowers Midorima had brought the day before.
“Grave robbers?” he gasped, not believing his eyes. Did people even do that sort of thing anymore? Hadn’t the desecration of people’s eternal resting places gone out with waist coats and high button shoes?
He walked closer on shaky legs and then fell to his knees.
Takao would never rest in peace now.
If only he’d come sooner. If only he hadn’t gone home. If only he could have stayed to keep watch. If only…
“I’m so sorry, Takao,” he wheezed, blinking back tears.
“It’s okay, Shin-chan,” a voice said from behind him. “You’re forgiven.”
Startled, Midorima spun around to face the intruder.
“Though,” Takao cocked his head to the side, “I’m not sure why you’re apologizing.”
He stared at him. Just stared, unblinking at the other man. The other man who was supposed to be six feet under the ground. The other man who was supposed to be dead.
“G…Ghost?” Midorima managed, not sure if he believed it himself.
“Pfft!” Takao wrapped his arms around his middle and barked out a laugh. “A ghost? Seriously, Shin-chan?”
“W-Well, you were – you are dead.” He adjusted his glasses and then cleared his throat. “What else could you be, if not an apparition?”
“I’m not a ghost.”
“But, you are dead…aren’t you?” Midorima asked, wondering if this was all some strange dream. A strange, wonderful dream in which the other man was still alive.
“I was,” Takao answered, lowering his gaze. “But there were a few things I still wanted to do,” he explained. “I had regrets, so I…made a deal.”
“A…deal?” He furrowed his brow.
“Oh, you know.” Takao looked up and grinned, his eyes closing into foxlike slits. “I’ve got friends on the other side and all that.”
“Takao.”
The shorter man opened his eyes, his grin fading.
“I won’t confess what I traded, but I’ve been given a week.”
“A week?” Midorima blinked. Takao was back, but only for a week?
“Well, a little less than.” Takao chuckled. “It took me a good few hours to claw my way out of there.” He gestured toward the grave with his chin. “And, let me just say, if I wasn’t claustrophobic before…I am now.” He laughed again, the same high-spirited laugh he always let out – usually at Midorima’s expense. The same laugh Midorima had longed to hear. Just one more time.
“Takao…what-”
“Hey, let’s not waste any more time.” Takao walked up and took one of Midorima’s hands in his. It was covered in dirt and much paler than he remembered, but it was warm. “I want to start crossing things off of my list as quickly as possible.”
Midorima looked up from their joined hands and studied the other’s face. Takao was pale, with dark circles under his eyes, but he looked just like he had the last day he was alive, right before his accident.
“A week?” he asked again, just to clarify.
“A week,” Takao answered and then let go of his hand, raising his own to cup the taller man’s cheek. “I mean, there’s a way I can stay longer.” His fingers caressed his jaw. “But it costs…well…let’s just say it’s a price I’m not willing to pay.”
“Oh.” Midorima’s face fell. Whatever it was, he would pay it. If it meant Takao could stay longer. Stay forever.
“Anyway,” Takao continued. “There’s one thing I’m dying to do.” He snickered. “No pun intended.”
“Takao-”
“But, before I do,” Takao removed his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. “I’d like to pick up some mouthwash or something, because, ya know, after being dead for a few days, I’m pretty sure I’ve got some killer morning breath—”
Midorima didn’t let him finish. He grabbed the sides of his head, startling the other man.
“Shin-chan!” His eyes widened. “What are you—”
He kissed him then, feeling Takao’s warm, slightly chapped lips against his. It felt wonderful. It was just like he’d imagined. Just like he’d dreamed.
They broke apart when Midorima finally remembered he needed air.
“Shin-chan…” Takao looked dazed, but then he blinked, his sharp eyes searching the other man’s. “What was that?”
“What else?” he asked, drawing his brows down.
“What?” Takao pulled back.
“What else do you regret not doing?” Midorima lowered his hands to grip the other’s shoulders. “Whatever it is. Whatever you want to do. We’ll do it.”
“Shin…chan…” Tears began to pool in his eyes and he wiped them away on his sleeve. “That’s, uh, that’s enough for now.” He gave a watery laugh.
Midorima leaned down and kissed him again. It was shorter this time, but no less passionate.
“Shin-”
“And...I’ll be the one to pay it,” he said, face completely serious. “If it allows you to stay indefinitely, I will pay it.” He pushed some of Takao’s bangs from his eyes. “No matter the cost.”