Chapter Text
One petal.
One blistering red petal.
When Clay first coughed it up, he was taken aback. He knew exactly who he loved. Who he thought shined brighter than every single star in the sky. Who he’d want to spend every waking moment with as long as he was on Earth.
Apollo Justice.
His best friend.
The worst type of friendzone.
At least he only realized his feelings AFTER the x-ray for the recruitment. Having hanahaki would’ve killed his chances of space travel.
Every single day of training became harder and harder.
Heaved breaths came out of him, struggling to keep the petals inside until he could puke them all out in the bathroom. Meals became much more of a chore as well; no one spoke about how he felt the red rose’s thorns prick at his internal organs.
Calling Apollo made it worse.
The astronaut would promise himself to confess every time, but he never worked up the courage to do so. And he’s normally the one to show affection. His throat felt as if the vines were trying to wrench the confession out. But he held back every single time.
More red petals. A cough into his sleeve with a bloodstain.
But still, he stared at his drained body in the mirror. Blood trickling down his chin, a trembling chest with shaky breaths, a husk of his former self. And still, he shut Apollo out.
Clay stopped video calling his best friend two months by now. He stopped normal calls a month ago. He hadn’t even texted in a few days.
The mission is tomorrow, and he can’t even confess. Dying in space doesn’t sound half bad.
But that isn’t possible either.
Tomorrow’s mission is fake, and he’ll be hailed as the hero who saved Mr. Starbuck from certain doom.
His phone dings with a familiar tune from outside the bathroom. Clay hacks up more red rose petals into the sink.
Someone pounds on his door.
Shit. He isn’t expecting anyone to come tonight, and Apollo always texts before knocking.
“Clay? Clay?!”
“AJ, not right now!” He croaks.
Opening the door is not an option. Confessing isn’t an option. The surgery isn’t even an option at this point.
Clay accepted his doomed fate a long time ago.
Why?
“Schatzi, I don’t believe he wants to see you...”
That first petal showed up because Apollo had screamed about finally scoring a date with a literal celebrity. A rockstar. The perfect boyfriend.
Apollo doesn’t and will never feel the same way.
Of course Apollo had to bring Klavier along. The roots in his stomach viscerally rip through his insides, at least that’s how it feels.
“Clay, you leave for space tomorrow! And you haven’t called or texted me!” He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and exits the bathroom and walks toward the entrance. “What’s with you?!”
“Nothing! Now, leave!” The afflicted yells at the closed door.
“There’s dissonance in his voice. That’s a lie.” A woman. Who the hell is that?
His arm wants to reach for the door to open it. To open it, kiss Apollo fervently, and finally confess. Clay yanks it back.
“I can tell you everything after HAT-2.”
He chooses his words carefully. Some girl, who is probably that new recruit he was talking about, can tell whether he’s lying or not. At least Apollo can’t perceive what’s wrong.
“After?! You’ll be in SPACE! Tell me now!” The attorney’s chords of steel crack.
He doesn’t want to do this.
But if he wants the truth so bad, he’ll get it.
“FINE, APOLLO! YOU WANT IT RIGHT NOW?!” He slams his fist against the locked door. “I don’t want to be your best friend anymore!”
Clay knows what he could say next. He bites his tongue. More blood.
The three voices gasp.
“It may be painful for him to say, but...”
Apollo’s fierce gaze is tangible even through the door. “You’re lying! Say it again, Clay! SAY IT AGAIN!”
Being the attorney’s best friend means he knows exactly when the other is crying. Right now is one of those times. Clay drops to his knees, in tears himself, then gently places his forehead on the door.
“I don’t want to be your best friend anymore, Apollo Justice.”
The sentence paired with that almost bursts out of him like the petals inside him. He swallows the cough.
“He isn’t lying, Apollo. I’m sorry.” The woman got the memo. Perfect.
He can hear Apollo’s muffled sobs through the door. Klavier is muttering something in German.
A few steps.
The elevator door bell.
More steps.
And then, silence.
Clay bursts towards the bathroom and vomits near full roses. His bathroom is littered with petals and blood stains.
He can’t say what he wants.
Somehow, he manages to survive until the next day. The HAT-2 mission. No one speaks. The explosion happens, just as Mr. Cosmos foretold. Clay stumbles to make it to the boarding lounge while carrying Mr. Starbuck and the asteroid samples.
Somehow, his body doesn’t want to cough anymore. The taste of petals and blood only mix and gurgle in the back of his throat.
Mr. Cosmos can make a good story out of his death in this situation, leaving out Hanahaki. Something like [Hero dies saving fellow astronaut after explosion].
Clay doesn’t expect the unknown man walking in with a lighter.
Before he can react, something punctures his stomach. The gloves on the spacesuit are drenched in red at his realization. The inside of his helmet is spattered with blood and...
One blistering red petal.
One petal.
“Klav, just give me the damn autopsy report!”
Apollo is tired. So very tired. His best friend died from a stab wound.
Well, his best friend up until two days ago.
Everything went wrong after Juniper’s case. Clay stopped video calling. Then he stopped normally calling. Then he stopped texting.
And now? He’ll never get a reason why.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this, Apollo?”
He groans. “Yes! Give it!”
His boyfriend shuts his eyes and bows his head, handing him the autopsy report.
The drama because of this file is just highly exaggerated. That’s what the attorney believes.
As soon as he opens it and sees the image drawn on the body, he falters and releases it. Papers scatter all over the floor of the office.
Flowers.
Hanahaki disease.
His knees buckle under the weight of this information. Apollo falls back in complete shock. Clay was dealing with that on his own?
“Wh... WHY DIDN’T HE TELL ME?!” He screams.
Klavier pulls him into a tight hug. He can’t even hug back.
“His death is still because he was stabbed. But the coroner stated that he would have died the next day if it weren’t for that.”
The prosecutor's words become muted. Something about how astronaut training may have caused the disease to worsen. To make the space cadet more reserved. To make his best friend irritable. To make Clay into someone he didn’t recognize.
The last thing he heard from Clay Terran echoes in his mind.
(“I don’t want to be best friends anymore, Apollo Justice.”)
There is one important detail left out of that statement. One final thing that could have cured his best friend. Even if he didn’t feel the same.
Silent tears rush down Apollo’s cheeks.
“I want to be so much more. He meant that he wanted to be more than... more than...”
Apollo drops his head into the crook of Klavier’s neck in agony.
More than best friends.