Archive of Our Own

Living with Kageyama meant falling for him harder every day.

It meant wanting to be closer, but not wanting to ruin what they already had.

It meant retching in the shower, red rose petals spilling out of his mouth and hitting the water like dollops of blood. 

But they saved money by splitting the rent, and living with his teammate made it easier to coordinate training. More importantly, Oikawa never had to be alone. When there was no one else, there was always Kageyama. Kageyama making protein shakes for the two of them every morning, Kageyama listening to his practice presentations for class, Kageyama dragging him home when he drank too much at a party. He was a surprisingly good listener, and he would tell him straightforwardly what he needed to hear.

No one compared to Kageyama.

Tonight they'd won the regional match, making them the #1 college team in the area, and Oikawa should've been happy but the victory reminded him how wonderful Tobio was, how good it felt to be by his side, how he could look at Tobio every day for the rest of his life and never get tired of him.

He'd tried to hide it during the afterparty, coughing the occasional petal into a napkin.

Oikawa didn't let himself fully heave until he was kneeling in his own bathtub, letting the petals fall and be washed down the drain.

Hope it doesn't clog the pipes, he thought.

There was a heat building in his groins as he recalled the way he felt when their skin brushed against each other, his shiver of pleasure blooming into full-blown desire. He closed his eyes and imagined himself touching Kageyama, all over, from his taut abs to his strong, shapely arms. He imagined biting his shoulder with hands buried in his silky hair. He imagined being underneath him with Kageyama deep inside, wracked with pleasure and moaning against his skin.

Oikawa climaxed with a strangled cry, a single moment of ecstasy. Then he was plunged into despair again; touching himself had alleviated the ache in his loins but not the ache in his chest.

He heaved again.

"Are you okay?" Tobio yelled as he knocked on the door.

"I'm fine!" yelled Oikawa back.

His eyes began to water and his throat feel choked up. There was no way he was telling Kageyama, or anyone else for that matter, that he was puking up flower petals. It would only make people worry. He would bear the burden of this illness alone.

Tears dripped from his eyes, joining the layer of liquid--a disgusting mixture of water, sweat, cum, and teardrops mingled with upchucked rose petals--pooling in the now-clogged bathtub. The petals seemed out of place, lovely slips of crimson sprinkled in with the runoff of bodily fluids.

What a deceptive disease, fooling its victims into thinking their suffering was beautiful. 

✾✿❁❃❀

It got worse.

Oikawa pretended to have a case of the flu, keeping a large stash of tissues to spit petals in. He held petals in the back of his mouth during practice, almost gagging because of how gross it was, rather than cough it up in public. He made up excuses to step out of the apartment more often, choosing to have the bigger coughing fits in a public bathroom or crouching behind a bush rather than risk Kageyama hearing him.

One night he walked in to find Kageyama in the kitchen, glaring at him.

"Where have you been this late at night?" Kageyama said in accusing voice.

It was 2 am and he had just finished having a particulary bad bout, his throat sore from all the retching. "What are you doing awake this late at night? Don't we have 5 am practice?"

"Answer the question."

"Ugh, Tobio, you're so nosy. I have my own life, you know."

"Fine," Kageyama threw up his hands. "I don't care." He walked away.

Oikawa felt a pang of sadness, he knew Kageyama did care, or else he wouldn't be standing there waiting for him in the middle of the night with worry lining his face. Even though he couldn't love him, the boy cared about his roommate/friend/former senpai.

Oikawa promptly vomited into the kitchen sink.

✾✿❁❃❀

Oikawa woke up and he was covered in petals, petals everywhere, scattered bits of crimson velvet decorating his bare chest. He felt weak and woozy. He didn't even have the energy to get out of bed.

The door opened.

"Hey, we're going to be late for prac--" Kageyama stopped, his eyes widening. He hurried to his bedside and stood over him, staring at him.

"I'm beautiful, aren't I?" Oikawa said, in a dazed voice. "You should take a picture..." He picked up a petal and stared at it. "So pretty...don't you think it's pretty, Tobio-chan? Almost as pretty as you."

"This is bad," Kageyama muttered, reaching over and feeling Oikawa's forehead. "You're burning up."

"I'm fine," Oikawa insisted.

"No, you're not," snapped Kageyama. "You have a fever. You've been coughing up petals for weeks--don't lie to me, I know the signs, did you really think you could hide it?"

"...you knew?"

"Of course I knew! I've had it before!" Kageyama looked distressed. "You have to get the operation. Now."

"No."

"If you don't get rid of the infection, you're going to die." Kageyama said, looking down at the red-faced, feverish Oikawa amidst a pile of rose petals. "Do you want to die?"

Oikawa tried to take a breath. Something was blocking his airway, scratching his throat. "...it hurts..."

Kageyama took his hand and squeezed. "I know. I'm going to take you to the hospital and--"

"Don't."

"But you--"

"I'm...going...to the doctor...next week..."

"That's next week!"

"I'm not doing it. I don't want to lose my feelings and become heartless, like you." In his feverish fog, the words tumbled out. "You used to have feelings for me," Oikawa said, his voice cracking. He felt like his chest was cut open like some kind of barbarous live dissection, his heart completely exposed, vulnerable. "What happened to that?"

"Oikawa-san," Kageyama said quietly. "You're seven years too late."  

✾✿❁❃❀

{7 years ago}

"You're only thirteen, Tobio." Tobio's mom said, as they drove to the hospital. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes," Tobio said. "I'm sure." Ever since the day he'd started coughing up pink-edged white petals--gladiolus, according to his mother-- he'd known he was going to get the surgery. The only other way to stop the flowers growing in his lungs was to get the person he loved to return his affections, which was a hopeless cause.

Hanahaki disease was for people who liked to be in pain, who found the notion of dying in a heap of petals romantic. It was supposed to be beautifully tragic, and the choice of "should I die or should I hold on to these feelings?" was a common dilemma in romantic movies.

But it was no dilemma to Tobio. He had to train. He had to win. He didn't have time for pesky emotions, he didn't have time for this stupid disease that punished one for harboring unrequited love, suffocated by flowers growing within one's lungs. 

"You'll never be able to love again, you know," said his mother.

"I know."

"Is it possible that the person returns your fee--"

"No. I told him." 

He'd started coughing up petals during practice and everyone was concerned--a case of Hanahaki disease, at this age? The coach made him sit out that day and get some rest so Tobio remained on the sidelines, conscious of the tightness in his chest as his eyes followed a certain setter.

He went up to Oikawa after practice, and told him. "It's you." Just two words, that echoed through the empty locker room.

Oikawa's eyes widened. He stood there in shock for a good few seconds before slamming his locker door. "And?" he said sharply. "What do you expect me to do about it?"

Tobio opened his mouth to respond, and out came a burst of flower petals. He clapped a hand over his mouth to stop it, then he gagged again and the petals overflowed in his hand, some fluttering onto the linoleum floor.

Oikawa made a disgusted expression.

Right then and there Tobio realized the older boy didn't care. He stood there hacking up petals from within, and Oikawa simply watched, and it seemed, to Kageyama, that this boy with whom he was infatuated didn't care whether he lived or died. How cruel, to watch someone gagging on their love for you and not feel a thing. Tobio wasn't sure he wanted to love someone so horrible.

Oikawa turned to leave and then stopped in the middle of the locker room, with his back to Kageyama. "Tobio," he said in a strained voice. "I can't force myself to have feelings for you. I'm sorry."

But his apology fell on deaf ears, because Tobio had already made up his mind that Oikawa was the worst. How fucked up it was to still pine for one who has been nothing but cruel to you? Tobio wanted no part in this bullshit.

When he was in the hospital being injected with anesthetic, Tobio felt a huge wave of relief. This was 100% the right decision.

He just wanted the pain to end. 

✾✿❁❃❀

Oikawa knew what Kageyama said was right; whatever seed had been planted in his chest had bloomed too late. Kageyama's feelings had become apparent too early and the boy was forced to excise the branches, to cut it out.

"Tobio-chan...It's my fault. I should've tried harder, that time..."

"You can't force yourself to love someone," Kageyama said, repeating back those words from long ago.

"You can try." He looked at Kageyama imploringly. There had to be something left, of those feelings. He did care for him. At the very least, he didn't want him to die.

"Do you want me to try?"

Oikawa nodded. Fuzzy-headed and tired, he found himself reaching for Kageyama, fingers grazing his cheek. "Please..."

"What--what do you want me to do?"

"Just...come here," Oikawa said, "hold me."

He closed his eyes, shuffling to give Kageyama space on his small twin bed. Kageyama sat down, lining himself up beside him, crushing the rose petals that were littered over the bed.

He awkwardly put his arms on either side of him. "Like this?" Kageyama brushed the petals off of Oikawa's chest.

"Mhmm." He leaned in, resting his feverish and weak body against him.

"If your fever doesn't get better I'm taking you to the hospital."

"Okay." He pressed his face into Kageyama's chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. The gentle thrumming put him to sleep. 

When he woke up hours later, his fever was gone.

✾✿❁❃❀

"...and I haven't coughed up anything since then," Oikawa finished.

The doctor sat in front of him, glancing down at her clipboard and then back up at him with a skeptical expression on her face. "I'm glad to hear that your illness is receding, but you said that your...friend...had a surgery?"

"Yes."

"So it's scientifically impossible for him to develop romantic feelings for you."

Oikawa grinned. "I guess science is wrong."

"Hmmm," she said, leaning forward and taking off her glasses. "Oikawa-kun, have you ever heard of the placebo effect?"

"The what."

"Placebo effect. When we do clinical trials for medicines, we split the subjects into groups: one group gets the real pill, and the other group gets a sugar pill that doesn't do anything. There are always people who derive the benefits you would get from the real pill from taking the fake pill."

He tensed up. "I don't think it's fake. It can't be."

Over the past week, Kageyama had cared for him while he was sick. He held his hand and cuddled with him. Was he faking it all? Was he just going through the motions? And even if he hadn't had feelings for him before, didn't the fact that he was trying indicate that he cared about him a whole damn lot? That despite how he had hurt him all those years ago, he cared about him enough to give him a second chance?

Oikawa swallowed and looked the doctor in the eye. "It's real enough for me."

She gave him a rueful smile. "Exactly." 

(fin.)