Chapter Text
Golden petals stood out in stark contrast atop the pillow that he had slept on last night. Sora’s face flushed hot with shame and guilt as he traced his fingers over the delicate daffodils that were scattered about the bed, some of them spilling off and onto the floor. It was a mess of flowers in his room, and he had absolutely no idea how to deal with it.
Did he sweep them all up and dispose of them? Pretend it didn’t happen and try and ignore the tickling feeling in the back of his throat, the taste of fresh cut flowers and pollen that tried to rise and fall from between his clenched teeth?
Or did he grab flowers by the fistful and carry them over to Riku’s house, show him the wilting and bruised petals he had been fighting back for the better part of two years? He could handle a few petals like in the beginning, the scratchy feeling that came after was easily drowned out by a full bottle of water, but as time wore on, the more Riku smiled at him, laughed with him, praised him on his accomplishments, the more Sora found himself unable to stop the inevitable growth of foliage within his body.
The only thing that rivaled the bloom of pain in his throat once he started hacking up flowers, was the pain in his heart every time Riku so much as looked at him. The smile that reserved for him and him only, always stole the last dredges of air from his lungs. It didn’t help that literal flowers were growing within them as well, sucking up all the precious oxygen and sending him into coughing fits at inopportune times.
His chest ached in intensity the longer he thought about his best friend. Sora cleared his throat, hand against his chest to try and settle the discomfort that was rapidly spreading throughout it. If he didn’t reign in his feelings soon, a new torrent of petals would join the rest on the bed and floor.
“I’ve gotta calm down,” he whispers to himself, hand resting on his chest, over his heart as he felt the rhythmic beating beneath his skin. Clearing his throat once more, Sora took a moment to collect himself, eyes falling shut as he tried to settle down enough that he could clean up the mess before his family saw it.
An irritated grunt left the teen as he grabs hold of the blankets and shook them out, scattering daffodils everywhere in his irritated attempt at pushing aside his disease for longer. He was dying the longer this went on, his parents had already urged him to get treatment for his condition, but Sora felt guilty just cutting out all the feelings he had for his best friend.
Would anything be left for them if he went under and got a surgeon to remove his feelings and flowers? Would they be able to go back the way they were if everything was taken out? He didn’t know which was scarier: confessing or going numb.
Sora felt petals get crushed underfoot as he walked around his bed, fighting to get the sheets tucked in properly again. It was unusual for him to refix his bed, but he would rather deal with that than cleaning up daffodils and being forced to see the severity of his condition.
He wasn’t stupid. Sora knew this disease was literally killing him, draining his body of vital nutrients and oxygen as the flora took and absorbed everything he needed. The flowers were thriving, growing strong and hearty within his chest as his body slowly started to become a shell of what it once was.
He used to be so energetic, always out playing with his friends. But now he could barely walk through his house without being winded due to the flowers in his lungs. He bruised easier, seemed to get sicker faster, and suffered from a concerning amount of anemia from the flowers taking and taking and taking so much from him.
The roots had spread far, seeming to go all throughout Sora’s torso now. But it was the only outcome expected after so long he neglected to do anything about the issue. He didn’t know how to bring it up, not without ruining everything in his and Riku’s friendship.
How do you tell someone you love that they’re actually killing you?
Sora couldn’t place that kind of burden on his best friend. Friend’s don’t do that. Best friends especially don’t pin their conditions on each other.
The bed creaks under the weight of Sora flopping down on it. He watches the fan spin in slow lazy circles for a moment, something that required no thinking for a blessed few moments. He wasn’t suicidal, he didn’t want to die anymore than he wanted to have this disease, but he refused to push his life onto Riku and screw everything up because of it.
So the only options he’s left with is to either go under the knife and have everything removed, or just wait for it to kill him.
His eyes fall shut and he takes a deep breath.
Already he can feel petals in his mouth again.