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Flowers were once Bokuto’s mom adoration and devotion. When growing up, as much as Bokuto was a boy interested in sports, he liked helping his mom on the garden. He always thought it was beautiful to see such delicate things grow so gracefully, with unique smell and different colors. Bokuto would run through the field, arms stretched open, laughing joyfully among sunflowers and daffodils. Mom would pick him up, twirl him around and lie down on the grass with him, telling him the meaning of each flower she had around her beautiful garden.
His mother passion was so huge that she opened her own flower shop when Bokuto was barely eleven years old. Father already had a stable job, and she wanted to pursue her passion, so it wasn’t surprising she decided to become a florist. They had to move out of their house, which was far from the main parts of Tokyo, but she managed to keep a small garden in their new place, hidden in a tiny backyard but still there for Bokuto to admire and wonder.
Bokuto still likes being around flowers. It’s a secret he doesn’t tell anyone, how he loves helping his mom on the weekends with taking care of the greenhouse they have for the shop, and how he knows the meaning of each and every single one of the flowers that arrive in his mother’s shop – she always has the patience to teach him one by one, so ever calm and gentle as she is. By the time Bokuto is sixteen, he knows enough about flowers that he could open his own flower shop if he wants to.
Yet, as he stares at the begonia’s and kikyo’s petals on his hands, he wonders if knowing about flowers is enough to deprive him of having Hanahaki disease. Perhaps not, he realizes, because the coughing comes again and it brings more and more petals. He wonders about his misfortune, to be blessed with a disease that makes him hurt caused by something that would normally bring people joy, and also to love someone who could and would never love him back. He wonders about Akaashi Keiji, and he thinks that maybe this suffering is worth it, because loving Akaashi makes this pain be worth it.
When he tells his mom about it, she cries for the rest of the day. Maybe a part of her thought it was her fault, maybe she was mourning for her own child’s destiny at love.
Maybe it was because Bokuto said he won’t get surgery.
.
Kikyo: eternal love, sincere, neat, obedient.
Begonia: unrequited love, confession of love, kindness.
.
Bokuto meets Akaashi in high school. Being one older than the boy, he only meets Akaashi in the beginning of his second year, during the first day of training for the volleyball club. He plays setter, which is great for a spiker like him, and he even accepts to practice with him quite quickly. Bokuto instantly grows fond of the setter.
Your tosses are the best, Akaashi!
He ends up befriending Akaashi quickly, and Akaashi doesn’t complain, not even once. In fact, he allows Bokuto to get closer to him, to understand him better bit by bit, to get to know him. In the first months, it’s innocent, it’s friendly and Bokuto dives into this friendship with all the strength he has – walking to school and from school, or to practice and from practice, having lunch together or inviting him to study together; Bokuto does all of it.
It takes Bokuto around six months to start realizing that his admiration for Akaashi, as well as his need to get his attention, were not just friendly feelings. There, it was hidden something more, a call to his heart, the urgency he had never felt before to be around someone so much, to be noticed by them, to feel loved by them. By the time he realizes it’s love, he’s already in too deep, and soon enough, he starts coughing petals.
.
The first petal is a shock. Of course Bokuto had been expecting something to happen in his life when he got the big revelation of being in love with his best friend, just not petals coming out of his mouth. The proof he needed that he was in fact in love with Akaashi, and not just crushing as he had hoped, was in between those purple and red petals. But the harsh truth of it being unrequited is what is actually hiding between the silky, colorful petals in Bokuto’s hand. The proof of a pure, dedicated and loyal love, yet not requited, not meant to be a two-way street.
Bokuto holds the petal between his fingers gently and wonders, when did flowers switch from being the reason of my happiness to the reason of my destruction?
He thinks of hiding, thinks of running away, thinks of getting the surgery; he considers all his options. But, in the end, Bokuto knows exactly what he wants. He wants Akaashi to be happy, he also doesn’t want to forget, and he wants to let his mother know about his decision. Even though he’s committing himself to suicide, it’s the commitment he makes with himself.
Telling his mother isn’t easy. She cries for hours, on his shoulder, on his father’s shoulder – who also sheds a few tears – and on her bed. And after all the crying, she talks to Bokuto, trying to convince him to get the surgery, to confess, to do something besides waiting to just die.
Forgetting Akaashi would be like forgetting myself, mom.
She doesn’t argue much afterwards, but takes him to a doctor anyway, hoping she can at least enjoy more time with her son. Bokuto doesn’t argue with her, because he knows he’s also being unfair to his parents’ feelings.
But he doesn’t change his mind.
.
“Bokuto-san?”
“Yes?” Bokuto replies, looking up from his own homework.
They sit on the floor of the living room of Akaashi’s house, both of them working on their own papers for school. It was Bokuto’s suggestion, since he had been struggling with some subjects, and even though he and Akaashi are not in the same year, the boy is smart enough to help him with some basic things. Bokuto isn’t dumb and stupid overall, he just struggles with understanding things in the way teachers normally explain.
“I was wondering...” he starts, voice unsure and eyes glued on the table. “ I was wondering why exactly me.”
Bokuto blinks. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not on your year, Bokuto-san, and you have many classmates that could help you and would be willing to.”
“Uh, yeah,” Bokuto starts, hesitantly. “It’s true. But you’re smart, Akaashi, and you’re patient with me. No one is that patient with me. Also… I like your company, and I like spending time with you. Maybe I shouldn’t have?”
“No, that’s not it,” Akaashi replies a little too fast, voice a little too desperate. “I was just wondering. But thank you. I, uh, I like spending time with you as well.”
Bokuto smiles brightly, heart racing when Akaashi gives him an unsure small upward tilt of his lips. “I’m happy to hear it!”
.
It takes about two and a half weeks since Bokuto’s first petal appeared for his teammates to notice that something wasn’t right.
Bokuto, per se, wasn’t doing badly in practice. He still has his high energy, followed with his loud laugh and his amazing spikes. But perhaps what bothered them was the panting that started coming at some point, or how sometimes he excused himself to the bathroom and came back looking pale. At first, they thought maybe he was getting sick, like any other normal human being, but a sickness doesn’t last more than a week, unless…
Konoha watches him with sharp eyes, but doesn’t say much. He thinks he’s the only one who’s suspecting this, but he’s not ready to confront Bokuto yet. As long as he keeps playing well and doesn’t collapse, the coach won’t interfere. Bokuto doesn’t look that great, but he acts just fine.
Acts can’t last forever, though .
.
“Bokuto-san, are you alright? You look quite pale.”
Sitting on the floor outside the bathroom, panting slightly, Bokuto does not feel fine. Akaashi’s smiles burns on his mind, his heart clenching and his lungs burning. He had to run to the restroom to throw up, but he can’t, won’t tell Akaashi that. He has to be strong, he has to face this with a bright smile and a strong façade because he made a promise to himself. Bokuto promised he would be strong, for Akaashi’s sake, for his mother’s sake. He chose this. Looking up, he smiles at their now official setter since the previous match.
“Yeah, I think I’m coming with the flu or something,” he hums softly and laughs quietly. “Aw, man, I don’t wanna get sick and miss practice!”
Akaashi’s demeanor immediately changes, which makes Bokuto relax. Akaashi bought his joke, his own way of pretending there’s nothing wrong. He breathes out, feeling the petals starting to come. Akaashi being so close is still a problem, especially when he worries.
“If you say so. Please, be careful, Bokuto-san,” he nods and turns around, ready to walk away. However, he stops last minute and turns his head back, a small smile playing on his lips. Bokuto’s heart skips a beat. “We wouldn’t want our ace to be sick and not able to play.”
Bokuto is thankful that Akaashi leaves after that, because he has to stumble back into the restroom stall to cough even more petals than before. The kikyo is starting to show its form, and three months have passed since the first petal. Begonia’s petals are scattered everywhere, the proof of how deep he has fallen screaming at his face.
He cleans himself, and comes back to practice. When people ask him if he’s alright, he dismisses every single one of them with a joke. Bokuto jokes with Komi, yells something dumb at Suzumeda and runs around yelling for Akaashi to toss for him.
Konoha watches him, quietly, observing.
.
It’s nerve wrecking to see people in love and remind him everything he will never have.
Bokuto isn’t a bitter person, and he’s the type to put people first and foremost above everything in life. So, that’s why it’s surprising that he feels angry when he starts noticing people happy with their significant other while Bokuto would never have that. Because he won’t have a chance at that, being stuck with an unrequited love so strong that it’s killing him, and that he’s willing to die rather than live emotionless. He’s happy for loving Akaashi, especially because it’s Akaashi, but he wonders.
Maybe the universe hates him, he decides, giving him Hanahaki disease and blessing him with a jealousy he didn’t have before this.
Watching Akaashi interact with others makes his blood boil and go cold all at once. It’s the jealousy of knowing Akaashi could love another and knowing another could love Akaashi. Perhaps it’s stupid, but Bokuto cannot stop the rush of emotions that pass through him anytime he sees Akaashi smiling at any of their teammates.
During those days, he coughs petals of marigolds.
.
Marigold: jealousy, despair, sadness.
.
During their last game at the Nationals, just right at the end of Bokuto’s second year, that things take a bad turn very fast.
While Bokuto is playing, he feels amazing. Suddenly, it’s almost like there are not flowers, no roots growing inside his lungs, like he can breathe for once. The sensation of playing volleyball is of freedom, as if nothing else matters, because he’s doing what he loves and the person he loves is there, too. Whenever Akaashi tosses to him, he thrives , like Akaashi is the sun his flowers need.
In a way, it is. But it backfires, of course. As much as Bokuto feels as if he’s alive again while playing, Akaashi’s presence does feed his growing flowers, and it was only a matter of time until this moment arrives.
One second, he’s jumping and scoring. The next, he’s on the floor, and he can’t breathe, can’t see straight.
Of course, the game stops immediately. Bokuto is surrounded by his teammates, by his coach and managers, everybody is talking to him at once – but he can’t hear any of them; his head feels like it’s underwater, and he tries to grasp his breath desperately with his bare hands and just can’t. The panic settles in, and people seem to realize. Bokuto feels himself being lifted when he starts coughing, but he can’t focus on his surroundings. His legs move without his permission, and whoever is carrying him takes him to the restroom.
As soon as he gets there, Bokuto automatically opens a stall and falls on his knees, coughing and throwing up many kikyo’s and begonia’s petals.
He doesn’t notice the restroom door being locked, doesn’t notice that he’s alone in there with the person who helped him. Bokuto spills and spills flowers after flowers, each one of them looking closer to blooming than the last time. In the back of his mind, he realizes it means he’s running out of time, but he doesn’t allow himself to acknowledge this.
When it’s over, he rests his head against his supporting forearms, leaning against the toilet rim and breathes, relieved to have put out all the flowers that were recently choking him. Opening his eyes hazily, he realizes there are petals everywhere and that the almost bloomed flowers land inside the toilet, as if they’re mocking him.
“I knew it.”
He startles, turning his head at the person standing at the door for the stall. Konoha is staring at him with a knowing look, but not judging, not pitying. Just sad and understanding, as if he knew exactly what Bokuto is going through.
“My close cousin had it. I know a Hanahaki case when I see one, Bokuto.”
Bokuto groans, his arms gripping the edges of the toilet bowl. He lets his own head hit his forearms again, feeling weak and ashamed. Of course that he didn’t want anyone to find out, especially his teammates, but at least it wasn’t Akaashi. He knows he can’t face him yet.
Hazily, he hears footsteps and a conversation around the restroom door, but he can’t bring himself to care about it right now. His head feels foggy, and he feels a huge amount of pain on his chest; for a second, he knows he will have to tell his mom about this so they can see a doctor again, but it’s useless and Bokuto knows it. The doctor will prescribe a medication that will help with the pain, but it won’t help with his disease overall. It’s only a matter of time before he runs out of time.
“Bokuto, hey,” Konoha says, walking into the stall where Bokuto is. He opens his eyes, not realizing he had closed them in the first place. “Are you okay there?”
He nods, and raises his head, feeling dizzy. Before he can even think, Konoha pokes him and hands him a cup of water. Bokuto gratefully takes it and drinks it all in one gulp, which makes Konoha raise an eyebrow at him. He sits up straighter and looks around again, at the mess he has made. Silently, he starts picking up the petals on the floor and Konoha does the same.
“I told the coach that you had a bug or something on your stomach and felt dizzy, also that I’d help you,” he tells Bokuto, voice oddly quiet. “I told them you didn’t want to be seen like this, and they respected it. I had to lie for you, you know.”
Neither of them say anything for some moments. They finish picking up the petals and throw them in the toilet, flushing them all away. Bokuto is kneeling on the floor, eyes glued to the flowers he had spilled minutes ago, watching them being flushed and thrown away.
What a waste, he thinks, sadly.
“I’m sorry you lied, Konoha. But thank you for doing it, even though you know it was wrong.”
“Damn right I do know!” Konoha says angrily, getting up and turning around, going to wash his hands. Bokuto gets up slowly and goes after him, washing him scrub his hands with anger. “You have to tell them! You have to confess or get the surgery, I don’t care. Just… Are you planning on dying ?”
For a moment, Bokuto doesn’t answer, but simply walks to stand next to him and wash his own hands as well. He rinses his mouth afterwards, the taste of bile and flowers still stuck on the top of his mouth. Konoha watches him from the corner of his eyes, not saying a single word.
“I don’t want to forget, Konoha,” he tells him quietly, and he can’t help but smile sadly at his friend. “It’s unrequited. But that’s okay. I refuse to forget.”
Konoha glares at his, fists clenched.
“I respect you,” he says, voice low and angry. “But you’re an idiot.”
He leaves.
.
Bokuto takes about 20 minutes to come back to his teammates.
As soon as he arrives, the coach approaches him and walks him to the bench. It makes Bokuto’s heart drop, knowing he’ll be benched for the rest of the game – if not the rest of the games –, and it makes him sad to see his teammates playing without him. He notices Konoha there and for a moment, their eyes meet, but Konoha’s attention goes back to the game almost immediately. Bokuto almost praises him for it, but then he remembers where he’s standing.
Outside the court.
“You’ll sit this one out and afterwards we are calling your parents. Konoha told me it’s something I should do and I’m going to trust him on this one.”
He nods, head hanging down. Staring at the floor, he thinks sadly how this is what he had been signing up for the moment he decided not to confess and not to get surgery; volleyball, at some point, would become a struggle for him, considering how he will need stamina but won’t have it. He stays glued on the bench, next to the coach, who drops little comments sometimes to discuss with him. It cheers him up a bit, but not enough since he knows what’s coming after the game.
When they win, everybody is happy and decide to go out and eat as a celebration, since it’s the last game they have for the day. The coach tells them he will be late but will join.
Bokuto is just weirdly absent.
.
Bokuto’s phone rings and rings, but he ignores it all the way back home. His parents ask him to wait inside his room before they talk, and it leaves a dreading feeling inside Bokuto’s chest to hear it – he knows his parents are going to consider what to do next.
While he’s alone, thinking and lying in bed, he decides to check his phone. Surprisingly, he has several missed phone call from his teammates – one being from Akaashi –, besides many text messages. But the number two blinking next to Akaashi’s name in Bokuto’s messages list is what makes his heart skip a beat. Akaashi texted him, twice .
[18:04:10]
From: Akaashi Keiji
To: Bokuto Koutarou
Subject: No Subject
Bokuto-san, I hope you are doing well. You didn’t answer your phone. Please, let me know when you get home and go to a doctor.
[18:55:36]
From: Akaashi Keiji
To: Bokuto Koutarou
Subject: No Subject
Bokuto-san. Are you home yet?
Bokuto smiles sadly. He can’t help but wish that he could call Akaashi, tell him everything, ask him to be his boyfriend, to kiss him, to hold him. It’s all wishful thinking, and Bokuto hates that these thoughts haunt him. As a reminder, he suddenly coughs, throat tight and petals tingling to come, and he almost turns off his phone to distract himself from Akaashi.
Then, his phone goes off with another message.
[19:41:23]
From: Akaashi Keiji
To: Bokuto Koutarou
Subject: No Subject
Bokuto-san, please, let me know if you’re okay.
We’re all very worried.
‘We’ is the word he rereads over and over again. Of course that he’s including himself in that, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s being neutral.
His fingers move faster than his head.
[19:42:01]
From: Bokuto Koutarou
To: Akaashi Keiji
Subject: Re:No Subject
I’m home, resting. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine! (*´ー`)
He sends the message and throws his phone on his bed, feeling frustrated. Why can’t Akaashi love him back? Why does he have to suffer like this? Why is life so unfair?
Bokuto coughs again, this time a petal coming out of his mouth. It’s only a matter of time before they come again, before Bokuto is reminded of this sadness, of this love that is literally killing him. But he’s suddenly interrupted by his mother knocking on his door, walking into the room. She looks exhausted, and it makes Bokuto’s heart clench for the pain his causing to his parents.
I never asked for this, I don’t want to have this burden.
“Kou, let’s talk downstairs?”
He nods, walking away. His phone goes off again on his bed, but he leaves it behind.
[19:44:56]
From: Akaashi Keiji
To: Bokuto Koutarou
Subject: Re:Re:No Subject
Please, take care of yourself.
.
His mother runs her long fingers through Bokuto’s hair, her soothing voice humming a song under her breath. Bokuto lies his head on her lap, staying still. Slowly, she massages Bokuto’s scalp with her fingers and starts humming a song she would sing to Bokuto when he was a child. For minutes, they stay there, on Bokuto’s mom’s bed, in the early night, just the two of them in the room.
“Kikyo and begonia, huh…” she says quietly, fingers still running through his hair. “Do you remember the meaning of those, baby?”
Bokuto swallows dry. “Eternal love, sincere, neat and obedient. Unrequited love, confession of love, kindness.”
She leaves a kiss on his forehead. “I’m proud of you.”
He nods slowly, the tears he thought he had run out of now coming back to fall freely again. His mother shushes him, her fingers threading his hair while he slowly starts sobbing loudly.
In the quiet house, Bokuto breaks down on his mother’s lap. With her hand soothing him, he cries, for the love he would never get, for the chance he never will have, for the fact that he is, in fact, dying. It hits him, how Akaashi only sees him as friends, how Bokuto won’t get a chance to live a happy life with someone he loves because he has to either die or stop feeling love altogether for these petals to stop. It scares him, and he has done nothing but pretend that things are fine. But they aren’t.
Because he’s starting to run out of time.
.
“Me? The captain?”
The coach nods and the entire volleyball teams does as well. His senpai smiles at him, proud and reassuring.
“You’re going to be a good leader, Bokuto! You have this amazing team to support your back as well.”
Blinking slowly, he looks around. Everybody is looking at him, supporting and happy glances thrown at him. Konoha gives him a look mixed with something else, but not the same look Akaashi gives him. Akaashi looks at Bokuto like he is proud .
“I want Akaashi as my vice-captain,” he blurts out, unexpectedly and his captain immediately barks a laugh.
“We knew you were going to say that,” he replies, amused and Bokuto looks back at him, avoiding Akaashi’s surprised and flushed face. “Well–”
“He’s smart, and he’s really good at understanding the game,” Bokuto rambles, suddenly nervous to protect his idea. He wants Akaashi as his vice. “He can bring out the most amazing games, and he can also make us play really good, uh, wait, does that sound right? In my head it does…”
His mumbling makes a lot of his teammates start laughing. Flushing, Bokuto snaps his head back at them and continues. “He’s amazing and I know he can–”
“Bokuto!” the coach interrupts him. “We know. It’s fine.”
He blinks. “But I–”
“Bokuto, we were expecting this, and we all were ready to say yes anyway. Akaashi is an amazing smart player, and he’s the only one who can handle you anyway,” his captain says, voice smug like his expression. Bokuto flushes again, and he misses Akaashi’s panicked look.
“I’m pretty sure there are more capable players of being vice-captain along with Bokuto-san, as well more experienced, considering I am merely a second year and–”
Komi laughs and slaps Akaashi’s back, which makes him wince and glares at him a bit. “Akaashi! We all agreed because we know you’re awesome and intelligent! Unless you’re refusing?”
Bokuto finally looks at him. Akaashi looks around at the same time and his eyes meets Bokuto’s ones. Immediately, Akaashi sees there the conviction, the certainty, the trust that Bokuto has for him. It feels hard to say no now, and Akaashi realizes that he doesn’t want to anyway.
“It would be my honor,” he merely replies and Bokuto’s smile is huge, both of them with racing hearts.
.
“You know why I supported you on becoming captain right?”
Bokuto glances at Konoha. “Why?”
“First, because you’ll live. You will fight this, confess or get surgery, I don’t care. And second, you will have an extra motivation to come back. You love volleyball. We need you.”
He hums, and smiles at him, sad and decided. “I’m sorry I will disappoint, then.”
Konoha walks away, shaking his head and murmuring under his breath.
.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi starts when they’re about to leave the clubroom. Just the two of them are left behind, and suddenly Bokuto feels nervous. Being around Akaashi is always tricky – he’ll be happy, he’ll be satisfied, and he’ll be left with an everlasting warmth, but at the same time, the petals will come, along with the dread of dying soon, the anguish of knowing he loves someone who can’t love him back. “Why me?”
Straight to the point , Bokuto thinks and hums for a moment, wondering how to answer. “Why wouldn’t I choose you, Akaashi?”
“Because–”
“No, wait, don’t answer that. Your mind usually tricks you into thinking you don’t deserve things.”
Bokuto turns around and looks over Akaashi, who looks disturbed by what Bokuto has said. “Bokuto-san…”
“I know you, Akaashi!” he declares, quite proudly. “I know your mind can...uh...de...dec...say mean things to you! And I want you to know your mind is wrong, that you are amazing, you’re smart and you’re the person I want the most by my side with me as captain! Uh, don’t tell the others, it’s not that I’m playing favorite, I just… Ugh!”
Akaashi releases a breath, looking at Bokuto with pleading eyes. What are you begging for, Akaashi? Why can’t I see past all of your walls?
“I don’t know what to say, Bokuto-san,” he finally decides and Bokuto grabs his bag, walking towards him.
“Don’t say anything besides ‘I accept being your vice-captain’,” Bokuto says, smiling softly.
He gets a soft look as an answer, and his throat tightens. He realizes it’s probably his call to leave, to separate himself from the addiction that Akaashi’s presence is – as much as he craves it, it also kills him.
“I look forward to it, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi continues as Bokuto passes by him. He looks back, meeting Akaashi’s eyes. He can’t help but to smile brilliantly at Akaashi. For a moment, it almost feels like things could and would be okay.
“Me too, Akaashi!”
He manages to hold his petals for long enough for him to get home. But when they come, they’re not as lively as they used to be, but somewhat wilt and dead. Bokuto immediately knows – his flowers aren’t dying, aren’t leaving. They’re showing Bokuto some compassion.
It’s almost ironic, how the thing that is killing him is also showing him some kind of support for the things he wishes he had but won’t ever get.
.
When it’s finally July, Bokuto is more than ready for the training camp, and he actually feels a little less ill than before. Of course, it doesn’t mean he has been getting better – especially considering he has been around Akaashi even more lately, so of course it’s the opposite case –, but he feels a tiny bit better knowing he’ll see his bro, Kuroo, and play volleyball with other schools. He even heard that a school from Miyagi is going to come, friends of Nekoma. He feels excited and giddy again, ready to play volleyball and feel alive like he used to before.
Akaashi does make him feel a ton of emotions, and alive is definitely one of them. There’s something about him that makes Bokuto’s heart beat so strongly with love and adoration, and although his personality would throw people off, it’s something Bokuto also absolute adores, too. Maybe it’s his bluntness, sometimes turned into an awkwardness, a shyness that is not common from him. Maybe it’s his intelligence, the way he uses words and analyzes situations. Or even maybe it’s his compassionate heart, his passionate side, his love for literature, his true kind soul. His love for him makes him feel strong, happy, confident and alive. But loving Akaashi right now means letting flowers grow inside his lungs and as much as Bokuto feels everything that he does because of his love for said boy, at this moment it only makes him feel tired, sick and nearly death.
It’s unfair, he thinks. Flowers, so beautiful, full of meaning and love, carrying an awful and deadly disease inside him. Love, an honest, sweet feeling that is killing him slowly on the inside because it’s unrequited. It’s all twisted and unfair, and Bokuto hates every single second of it.
But also, it’s poetic. How beautiful things are going to kill him, and how this has been written on books before. Or how Bokuto is dying because he loves Akaashi, who doesn’t, couldn’t ever love him back.
When they finally all arrive at Shinzen school and get settled, Bokuto feel like bouncing off the walls with excitement. It’s been awhile since he had been able to feel like this and to hell if he isn’t going to enjoy it!
“Bokuto-san, you sound more excited than the usual,” Akaashi comments as they leave their designed room to go to the gym. “Is there a specific reason?”
“Just excited to finally play some volleyball with friends,” he lies easily. “I’ve heard about some ‘crows’ coming too, so!”
“Did Kuroo-san tell you?”
“Yeah, did you know?”
“Not really,” he says and Bokuto glances at him. Akaashi looks is looking at the floor, eyes unreadable. “We should head to the gym.”
“Yeah,” Bokuto agrees, voice a bit far away. What was that with Akaashi? “We should.”
.
During the first day, Bokuto feels at the top of his game. It should have been a warning, but he ignored it and embraced the fact that he was able to play volleyball at his fullest.
The second day was a bit harder. Even though the day before he had been fine, he had only coughed petals once and before bed. The other day, though, he woke up already coughing, and because it was so early, he had to hold himself until he was in the farthest bathroom, so he could cough without getting caught. During the rest of the day, he felt a bit off but managed to pull out good games and pretend he was still on top shape. Not losing meant not doing the drills, and he was glad they barely lost a game to begin with. He had to excuse himself twice though, to cough and vomit all the flowers stuck inside him.
He, somehow, survived day two as well.
Day three was even worse. Bokuto coughed so much he had to skip three games, one in the morning and two in the afternoon. He blamed it on another stomach bug, and everybody gave him weird looks, except maybe for Konoha and the coach. By now, Bokuto is almost sure that the coach knows the truth as well – either Konoha told him or he figured it out himself. He tries avoiding Akaashi, since spending time with him usually aggravates the situation. But it also breaks his heart, to see Akaashi’s confused and hurt look, to be away from the person he cares about the most.
But day four… That’s when things go extremely wrong.
It starts with Bokuto feeling more nauseous than ever. Promptly, he ignores it and get downstairs to eat breakfast. However, even the smell of food throws him off, so he decides to skip it. Suzumeda and Shirofuku both give him threatening eyes when he is leaving the room, but Bokuto ignores them. During practice, he is panting and tired more than usual, which isn’t unnoticed by the coach and the managers. After the second game, he is benched and for once Bokuto doesn’t mind. He is already reaching his limit anyway. Akaashi eyes him several times and Bokuto purposely ignores every single one of them; he knows he’ll ask questions that Bokuto won’t answer, and he also knows that if he gets close to Akaashi, he will start coughing even more.
During lunch, he eats some, but while still feeling extremely nauseous. And by the time the first game of the afternoon started, Bokuto finds out why he’s feeling like this and it’s not a pleasant experience.
There’s nothing much happening. Bokuto is watching them play and Akaashi is looking his best today, although he does glance at Bokuto from time to time, and he can’t help the fluttering of his heart to see Akaashi doing so well. He’s brilliant like that, and Bokuto is reminded again of the feelings he feels for that boy.
He starts coughing, like usual, with no flowers for now. Slowly, he can start to feel them coming, and he knows at some point he will have to excuse himself, which might be at any second by now. The coach eyes him but doesn’t say a thing. But then, Bokuto feels dizzy and falls to his knees and everything goes extremely wrong fast .
Coughing violently, Bokuto kneels on the floor desperately trying to get rid of the flowers on his throat. His mind is a blank, because he can’t breathe, fuck , and he doesn’t even consider running away at this point. He coughs and coughs but the breath he desperately tries to reach out doesn’t come and everybody stops playing to see what’s happening to him. The coach kneels next to him, urging him to get up so they can go ( go where?! ) but Bokuto can’t move, only tries desperately to breathe while coughing
Then, they all come at once. Full blossomed kikyo, begonias and now even anemones in the middle, petals flying everywhere along with the flowers. He coughs, and coughs, and he doesn’t even realize they’re all drenched in blood because he feels himself slipping away from consciousness at a quick rate. Someone screams, he thinks, but he can’t be sure.
He blacks out into someone’s arms.
.
Anemone: ephemeral love, love suffering, abandoned.
.
All Bokuto can feel is pain. His chest feels like it weights a ton and breathing feels like stabbing his lungs at the moment. He doesn’t even want to open his eyes, considering how much everything hurts and suffocates him, but the lights are bright and somebody is calling his name so, slowly, he opens them and is met with a white ceiling he hasn’t seen before.
There’s an oxygen mask on his face as well, he notices a second later, and something attached to his arm – an IV? – and finger. Scanning the room, his eyes land on his mother, who is standing next to him and looking at him with the most worried face that Bokuto has ever seen on her. It’s weird, he thinks, because his mother is calm, collected and does her best to make sure people feel safe and secure around her. If she’s worried, she’ll hide and be the rock everyone needs.
But, right now, she’s no one’s rock. Because she might need one for herself.
“Kou, baby,” she whispers and immediately starts crying, holding Bokuto’s face with both hands. “Baby, are you okay?”
Bokuto tries to nod, he really does, but his neck feels stiff, and he groans. Immediately, she looks concerned. She helps him to sit up, slowly, and then she’s reaching out for a cup of water with a straw, next to his bed. With calm and ease, she takes off his oxygen mask and helps him drink the water on the cup.
“Slow sips, okay?”
This time, Bokuto does nod and drinks some water. The weirdness around this throat lessens, but does not disappear completely. He feels like someone has stabbed his throat a thousand times over, and he doesn’t think speaking will be any less painful. It doesn’t stop him from trying, though.
“I’m sorry, mom,” he whispers, finally, voice scratchy and honest – he finds out he was right straight away, considering how much effort it takes for him to form a small sentence. Immediately, his mother starts crying again.
“Don’t,” she whispers and hugs him. He notices his father standing by the door, looking at them with sad eyes. “Don’t apologize for choosing this. I love you. I wished that you would get to live more, to have a happy and successful life but Kou, it was your choice. And I’ll respect that forever. Please, don’t make it harder. Be proud of what you’ve chosen.”
Bokuto starts crying, too. He hugs her tighter, sobs wrecking what’s left of his chest and soon his father comes and sits with them, hugging them both as well. “I’m sorry you g-get to see this. I love you, I-I’m sorry!”
The three of them sit there holding each other and crying for a long time.
.
In the end, his parents allow him to see his friends for one last time. After all, they both called out the principal of Bokuto’s school, told them of his condition and decided that he’ll be at home during the rest of his days. The doctors told them that the roots are already deep inside his lungs, so it wouldn’t take more than a month for him to finally collapse and…
Die.
Bokuto’s mother is adamant that they spend this last month together. His father has already taken a month off of work, and they’re all going to be bonding on the flower shop of Bokuto’s mom, where there’s a place for Bokuto to rest and also be around flowers.
It was actually Bokuto’s decision to be around the flower shop.
If it’s killing me, might as well give them an important meaning, right?
He has to stay this night at the hospital, though. So, his parents stepped aside, so he can talk to his friends, and went out to figure out some things for Bokuto’s well-being.
His teammates all come, as well as some from other schools. He smiles at every single one of them, saying it will be fine but doesn’t tell them about his decision. What he mentions is that he’ll need some time at home, and they all assume is because of surgery.
But Akaashi comes alone. He is the last one to visit Bokuto, just a bit before the time they’re supposed to go back to the camp – or so Konoha had mentioned – and that’s finally when Akaashi decides to visit him. As soon as he walks in and closes the door, Bokuto is nervous. Because Akaashi looks mad .
“Why?”
“Huh?” is all Bokuto can muster. Akaashi doesn’t even look at him, staring at some point above Bokuto’s head, unmoving and jaw clenched. Bokuto doesn’t really understand why Akaashi would even be mad.
“Why are you doing this?” he asks again, this time meeting Bokuto’s gaze with apathetic eyes. It’s a look Bokuto doesn’t like, because it means that Akaashi is hiding and that he’s doing it well. Or maybe that he doesn’t care about it, which makes things worse for Bokuto’s head.
“What, dying?” he asks incredulously. “What do you mean, Akaashi?”
“Why are you allowing yourself to die for something so…foolish?!”
Bokuto’s blood runs cold at his words. “ Foolish ?” he asks, voice hurt and angry. “What the hell do you mean by foolish ?”
Akaashi takes a step back, eyes widened and confused. “Dying for someone blindly like this… Bokuto-san, your life is worth more than this.”
“This what?” he spats and his breathing becomes erratic. Immediately, he coughs. “Love, you mean?”
Frowning, Akaashi looks at him and takes another step back. “Bokuto-san, I didn’t mean to imply–”
“Yet, you said it,” he says and laughs hollowly. “You meant it, Akaashi. Please, leave.”
“Bokuto-san, if you don’t go through surgery, you will actually die. Is this love worth it that much?”
He doesn’t understand the clipped tone on Akaashi’s voice, neither does he understand why he sounds so defensive. Bokuto is the one dying. He expects sadness, he expects the worry, and he expects even pity, but not defensiveness. Not this.
“If it wasn’t worth it, don’t you think I would have already done surgery?”
Akaashi looks at him with wild eyes, hands clenched into fists and mouth in a thin line. He looks ready to jump on Bokuto and knock sense into him. “Bokuto-san, this is a waste of your life!”
That boils Bokuto’s blood.
“What?” he releases a shaky breath. “Akaashi, you… You know what? If you actually believe that, then do me a favor and leave. Don’t come back. If you can’t understand that, you can’t understand me .”
As soon as he says it, he looks at his own hands, shaking slightly. He coughs again, chest starting to ache. Akaashi doesn’t answer him. He looks at Bokuto for a moment, eyes desperate and pleading, but Bokuto never looks back at him. With a sigh, Akaashi turns on his hell and heads towards the door. He stops there, though, and looks at Bokuto again.
Bokuto doesn’t look back. “I’m sorry, Bokuto-san. Please, reconsider and think of your life.”
Akaashi leaves.
Bokuto coughs and coughs, until nurses come and help him, until more flowers stained with blood come out of his mouth.
.
Worse than being around Akaashi and knowing his love for him was unrequited is not being around him and knowing he thinks that Bokuto is a fool for choosing death over surgery. Yet, Bokuto doesn’t regret it. Because he still loves Akaashi the way he is, and if it means loving an idiot who can’t accept Bokuto’s reasoning for not choosing surgery, that’s fine by him. He’ll love him until he dies.
Which might be sooner than Bokuto thinks, considering his stained flowers, pale face and shaking hands.
The first week and a half spent at home are hard in Bokuto’s life. He doesn’t like the idea of doing nothing, and he hates even more the idea that he’s dying while his parents watch him do so, but he decides to make most of it.
Bokuto spends time with his parents, be it planting flowers – which should be ironic, but it’s actually comforting for him –, be it reading a book, or be it watching a dumb TV show at night before bed. He’s tired most of the time, and breathing becomes something harder and harder for him day by day, but he doesn’t give up or mind the fact that he’s becoming unable to even properly function; if anything, he tries even more to be around his parents just so he can leave them with a sweet memory of a lost child that loved them dearly.
But Bokuto starts running out of time by the end of the second week.
He gets so bad that leaving the bed during the morning becomes a struggle. Then, eating is also a problem, considering nothing stays inside his stomach. Bokuto gets even more pale and his hands shake so much that he can barely write.
But he still tries to. Because he suddenly decides that he wants to leave a letter to Akaashi.
Maybe it’s unfair, Bokuto decides. Deciding to die for someone without letting them know. But Akaashi would fight him and make him get the surgery if he knew, and Bokuto refuses to do so. Like he has already decided, he would rather die than forget. Besides, Akaashi would carry the guilt of watching him die while he knew he was the reason. And this guilt made Bokuto decide to write Akaashi a letter he will only receive many, many years later; it would be unfair to make Akaashi find out he was the unrequited love that literally killed Bokuto so early in life. Bokuto knows his mind and how he will grieve with this, so he would rather that he finds out when he’s mature enough to deal with it.
Bokuto discusses this enough with his parents to decide to leave the letter with them.
“I don’t know what to write on the letter,” he tells Konoha over the phone. He doesn’t know nor understand why Konoha would still talk to him considering he is dying, refusing to get treatment, or to even try to confess, and now he’s even leaving a letter behind to the love of his life. “I feel bad enough that Akaashi doesn’t know about this.”
“Then tell him, idiot,” Konoha replies, voice a little harsher than he had expected. “Bokuto, he deserves to know, and he has to know. You have no idea how lost he looks without you there.”
“Konoha…”
“I mean it!” he continues, voice impatient. “He was benched twice this week. Twice, Bokuto! Akaashi walks around looking lost as hell, and we’re less than a month away from Spring High. He can’t even be captain right now because he’s worried sick about you.”
“Funny how he is worried now, huh,” he murmurs, feeling guilty for saying out loud, but not stopping himself. “He doesn’t respect my choice anyway, why does he even care?”
“Bokuto, stop being a fucking blind idiot,” Konoha snaps and Bokuto raises an eyebrow. That’s unusual , he thinks. “He cares about you! Call him and confess. He deserves to know, Bokuto, and he’s stronger than you think. Besides, what if the outcome is different from what you imagine?”
He pauses. “Konoha, Akaashi doesn’t–”
“Don’t give me the guilt crap, Bokuto,” Konoha interrupts him, voice tired. “You own him at least this much. You’re willing to die for him but not even let him know that? Then you don’t respect your friendship with him enough. You’re still best friends, and he cares for you either way.”
Konoha hangs up a bit afterwards, after insisting again that Bokuto should call Akaashi.
Bokuto wonders. More flowers painted in blood come that night.
I’m running out of time .
.
“Kou, telling Akaashi the truth is either freeing yourself from this or finishing the job of what has already started in your lungs.”
Bokuto nods, his mother’s answer confirming his own fear: telling Akaashi will either help him or kill him.
He knows Akaashi deserves to know. After Konoha’s call and words, he thought this over for a long time. Akaashi and Bokuto became indeed best friends in less than one year, and not only had Bokuto hidden from him that he has Hanahaki disease, he is also hiding from him that he is the cause of Bokuto’s petals inside his lungs. He broke Akaashi’s trust twice now, and he knows this isn’t the right way of doing things – Akaashi truly deserves to know, but Bokuto doesn’t want him to feel guilty, yet Akaashi is his best friend, and… It’s an endless fight inside his own head, one that Bokuto knows he won’t find the answers by himself. That’s why he chases his mother and asks for her opinion.
Bokuto knows he’s running out of time. If he does anything, he has to do it soon. Breathing has become harder and harder on him, and his lungs seem even more ready day by day to finally collapse.
“But… Baby, at this point, is it worth it to let it go without a fight? You barely have time left anyways…”
His mother sniffs. “Mom…”
“I know, I know! It’s your choice, but…”
“I’m sorry, mom.”
“Stop apologizing, baby, it’s your decision and I respect it!”
Bokuto hugs her anyway. She immediately hides her face on his neck, breathing in deeply. Bokuto smells the flowers in her hair, the scent of jasmine and roses.
“I love you, mom. I will tell him tomorrow, so let’s enjoy today, yeah?”
She cries on his shoulder again.
.
Bokuto shakes that night like a leaf. After spending the entire day with his parents – something that was a happy but bittersweet moment for them all –, he takes a shower and heads to his room to call Akaashi. It took him longer to get through the basics of his day, which only made him realize more and more how it might be too late. As he picks up his phone to dial Akaashi’s number, Bokuto trembles so much he almost drops his phone altogether.
Akaashi picks up on the second ring.
“Bokuto-san?” he asks, voice hesitant and small.
“Hi, Akaashi,” he replies, and breathes out shakily. It’s perhaps the first time since he left the hospital that he has been able to breathe a bit better – maybe it’s Akaashi’s effect, maybe it’s the fear effect. “How are you?”
“I was terrified it would be a phone call saying you had died,” he whispers on the phone. “I’ve been keeping my phone with me all day, so I don’t miss the chance of hearing you one last time before you….give in.”
Bokuto swallows dry. “Akaashi…”
“How are you , Bokuto-san?”
“Closer to death,” he blurts out and almost smacks himself on the face. “Uh…”
Akaashi huffs a bitter laugh. “Right.”
There’s a beat of awkward silence. Bokuto suddenly wants to tell him everything over the phone, but that wouldn’t be a good idea. Besides, he would want to see his face one last time, and if that’s how he gets to see him, then so be it. Akaashi shuffles on his bed and Bokuto’s chest clench.
He misses Akaashi.
“Akaashi, can we...can you come over to talk? Tomorrow? Please.”
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replies, voice tight and strained. “Do you really want to see me after the awful things I’ve said to you last time?”
“Of course I do,” he replies and feels tears in his eyes. I love you so fucking much, I’d forgive you in a heartbeat over and over again. “I miss you, Akaashi. Please, can we talk?”
“Yeah,” Akaashi breathes, quiet but still there. “After school, I’ll stop by okay?”
“I’ll be waiting,” Bokuto promises.
Or so he hopes.
.
The next day, Bokuto’s parents decide on a simple plan. They will stay in the house, but will give Bokuto the privacy he needs. Also, they will tell Akaashi – a confession that happened days previously and made his mother choke up and say of course it’s him, oh baby – that they will be downstairs in case that Bokuto’s flowers finally decide to suffocate him. And the emergency number will already be on speed dial, ready if necessary.
When the bell rings, Bokuto’s heart runs cold. He’s going to confess.
Naturally, Bokuto doesn’t go downstairs. His parents open the door for Akaashi, give him the prep talk – which lasts almost five minutes, much to Bokuto’s impatience and fear – and then allow him to go upstairs to see Bokuto on his room. The moment Bokuto hears the hesitant knocking on his door, he allows a shakily come in to come out of his lips before he’s met with the sight of Akaashi Keiji in front of him again.
“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi greets, voice trembling and unsure. He closes the door after him, putting his own bag next to the door.
“Hey, Akaashi,” Bokuto replies, voice a bit raspy from the earlier coughing. It had been quite the fit, one that earned him some bloodied flowers and a difficulty to breathe afterwards. “Come on, sit here.”
With Bokuto already sitting on his own bed, Akaashi hesitantly walks over to him and sits on the other corner of the bed, looking uncomfortable and insecure. Bokuto immediately feels bad for putting him in that position, and even worse now that he’s going to confess.
“Your parents said...you could choke up and die during our talk. And that if you did, I should call them.”
Bokuto lets out a weak laugh. “Yeah, sorry about that. But it’s true.”
“I don’t understand,” Akaashi says, voice confused. He looks at Bokuto with such a tired expression that it allows him to believe what Konoha had said is, in fact, true. Akaashi looks lost.
“You look awful,” Bokuto says and Akaashi doesn’t stop his own huff of bitter laugh.
“You’re the one to talk.”
There’s a beat of awkward silence where Akaashi stares at his own hands and Bokuto stares at him with sad, unsure and hopeful eyes. He doesn’t expect Akaashi to like him back, but the way that he keeps looking awful and dejected makes him kind of hopeful. He can’t help the rising of this feeling inside his own chest.
“Akaashi–”
“Bokuto-san–”
They both speak at once and pause right afterwards. There’s a moment when they both share a small amused smile, mostly because they had interrupted each other. It’s comforting for a second, seeing Akaashi smile and be at least a little more open to him. Bokuto coughs at the scene, and he gives an apologetic look for it.
“I’m sorry, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi finally says with a small voice, full of regret. “It’s, uh. It’s your choice. I should have supported you and be there for you. Now you’re running out of time and I…”
“That’s why I called you here, Ak– Keiji. Can I call you Keiji?” Bokuto asks him and only continues when Akaashi nods his head. “There are things that I realized you deserved to know. You’re still my best friend, nothing can change that, and Konoha said that I was not trusting you enough because I’m hiding this so…”
Akaashi sobers up immediately, Bokuto’s coughing starting to get worse. “Bokuto-san, what’s going on?”
“Can you… Can you please call me Koutarou? Just for tonight.”
“Of course, Koutarou.”
Bokuto smiles, sad but satisfied. “There’s a reason why my parents told you I might choke up with you here and die. There’s also a reason why I was so angry when you said that to me at the hospital. Keiji, doesn’t it make sense in your head? Me being upset that you didn’t want me to die for the person I love and me possibly dying because of your presence?”
Seeming in slow motion, Akaashi’s face drained of color and his eyes widened. He keeps staring at Bokuto, eyes full of shock and fear, face disbelieving and scared. Bokuto doesn’t blame him, since the entire situation is as fucked up as it is, and he wishes there was an easy way of doing this. He doesn’t know if this is the best scenario, the one he chose to tell Akaashi, but he can only hope and try. Bokuto needs Akaashi to understand him as well, he had never asked to be put in this situation. Trying to protect himself and Akaashi at the same time was his downfall, but he doesn’t regret it.
“Koutarou,” Akaashi breathes, face still pale and in shock. “Are you… Is it because…”
“Yeah,” he finally replies and the coughing intensifies again. He feels dizzy, but he has to do it now . “I’m in love with you, Keiji. It’s been driving me insane, how much you mean to me, how much I am willing to do for you. I planned on never confessing, but then this wouldn’t be fair, to let our friendship go as well without you knowing. No one blames you. You didn’t make this flowers grow inside me. But… I guess I just wanted you to know.”
“Koutarou,” Akaashi tries again, but this time he’s sitting closer to him, grabbing his hands with his own shaking ones desperately. “Kou. You’re such an idiot.”
“I know,” Bokuto says, coughing. He can feel the stem on his throat, feel the blood on his tongue. “But I don’t regret it.”
“I do,” Akaashi conveys, voice shaky and borderline desperate. “I do so, so much. We lost precious time. We could have been together. Kou, I love you .”
Bokuto starts coughing again, but, this time, it doesn’t stop. The taste of blood is strong now, he can hear Akaashi talk to him, feel him patting his back, distinguish the yelling that happens in the meantime he tries to desperately spit out the flower stuck on his throat. He’s alone for a second, hands gripping his own shirt on his chest area, eyes closed with pain and discomfort.
Hands grab him. Bokuto falls on his own bed, the coughing so violent he almost throws up.
Finally, he rolls over and throws up on the floor, the petals falling everywhere, full of blood, surrounding the blossomed forsythia and kikyo that fall to the floor. It’s the last thing Bokuto sees before he passes out, the loud voices of Akaashi and his parents almost being enough to make him stay awake.
Almost.
.
Forsythia: expectation, hope.
.
Opening his eyes slowly, taking in the surroundings, everything feels painful. It’s almost a déjà vu, to be in such state, seeing a white ceiling all over again. But, this time, as much as his chest feels heavy, his throat feels ruined, and he doesn’t think he could speak right now even if he tried, this time things are different.
Because Akaashi is sitting there, next to his bed, holding his hand and looking at him with soft, worried eyes. This time, Bokuto isn’t alone, he knows Akaashi’s true feelings, and he has told Akaashi about his own true feelings. For once, he feels hopeful, and although he still feels like he’s dying, he’s sure that he can overcome anything now.
As long as Akaashi is by his side.
.
“Time heals everything, right?”
“Mhm,” Akaashi hums, agreeing. “It does. But not everyone has time left, so…”
“What I mean...” Bokuto explains between coughing. “...is that time will heal us too, right?”
“It will,” he whispers and kisses Bokuto’s forehead, his fingers still tangled on his hair. “As long as we’re committed to talk and make it work, of course it will.”
“Good,” Bokuto whispers, voice small and insecure. “If I knew…”
“You couldn’t have without confessing, Kou,” Akaashi tells him gently, voice calm and sincere. “But that’s okay. You’re here now. Let’s not dwell on what if situations, okay?”
Bokuto nods and looks at Akaashi. The younger boy sighs softly, sitting on the spot next to Bokuto so Bokuto can lie down on Akaashi’s chest. He doesn’t complain, since he doesn’t even mind, and he will never admit that he finds it endearing.
“I’m thankful for you,” Bokuto whispers, voice muffled. “I love you, Keiji.”
“I love you, Koutarou,” he says back and kisses the top of his head. “You’re still an idiot, but you’re my idiot, okay?”
Bokuto laughs softly and coughs again, petals falling on Akaashi’s chest. Anemone’s petals fall everywhere but neither of them mind. This time, it’s the proof of their stubbornness fading away, of what they almost lost. This time, it’s the proof that their love is mutual and fulfilled, just like it should be.
This time, the anemone’s petals are red. Not because of the blood, because of its natural color.
Red anemone: I love you.