“How,” Foggy says, voice pitched higher and breaking, standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, “do I have braces again. What kind of fucked up magic is this.”
“I think it works on memories or something,” Matt says, leaning against the door behind him. “Do you look like you did when you were thirteen?”
“Yes,” Foggy says, shortly.
“…can I touch your face?” Matt asks, hopefully.
“No,” Foggy says. “I’m sure you never had an awkward phase, but mine was from the ages of twelve to–whenever I die, probably.”
“I had an awkward phase,” Matt says, defensively, stepping forward to stand next to Foggy. “I had to grow into this nose.”
Foggy sighs.
“I hate that you’re taller than me right now,” he says. “I don’t know why, but it makes me really mad and like I want to punch a pillow and listen to, like–Saves the Day.”
“…I’d offer you a hug,” Matt says, patting his shoulder, “but I can kind of, uhm–smell. That it might be weird.”
Foggy’s fingers clench on the sink.
“I don’t even have control of my boners anymore,” he says, faintly, before he goes to lay facedown on his bed and pretend like this isn’t happening.
oh my god, they were roommates 