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Hanahaki.
A rare disease caused by unrequited love, inducing flowers to grow in the affected person’s lungs, slowly suffocating them. Only curable through a reciprocation of their feelings or surgery.
Gakushuu’s father dies while he’s still in elementary school.
No, he didn’t really die, but one day he comes back home and isn’t his father anymore. The stranger looks and sounds the same, but he behaves differently. No more silly games, laughs, and trips. Just studying, admonishment, and exercise. First, Gakushuu doesn’t understand what has changed.
A few days later he hears about Ikeda.
The small boy quietly cries and cries, alone in his room, until his eyes are red and puffy and he feels like he can’t cry anymore. His parched body yearning for water and more tears.
And he thinks, it’s going to be alright.
They need time, but it’s going to be alright.
It’s a cold autumn day when Gakushuu discovers it.
The whole week he had a scratchy throat, fears to have gotten sick.
But after school, after saying goodbye to his classmates, he coughs. And when he stops and looks into his hand, he sees it, tiny shreds of green.
Gakushuu blinks and looks at them, not knowing what they mean. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would a human cough up leaves?
Thus he goes to the library, determined to find the cause of this phenomenon, too scared to ask the stranger at his house for help.
Soon Gakushuu finds out about a disease caused by love. He doesn’t believe it, after all he isn’t in love with anyone. Until he reads the sentence at the bottom of the page.
“Hanahaki not only affects individuals who harbor romantic feelings but also persons who experience unrequited platonic or familial love.”
Familial love…
The boy thinks about the stranger at home, the stranger he used to call father.
The stranger who used to hug him and loved him.
He can feel the tears slowly filling his eyes. A lump builds in his throat and Gakushuu swallows strained, unsure if it hurts so much because of his overwhelming feelings, he normally stashes away, or because of the leaves sprouting in his lungs.
This must be a mistake.
Gakushuu blinks away his tears, takes a few deep breaths and tries to think rationally.
Absentmindedly, the boy puts back the book and leaves the library, searching for a simple solution.
He probably had some leaves stuck to his hand and just jumped to conclusions.
That must be it.
His father was gone, and there is no way he loves this man in any possible way.
Since that day, Gakushuu is more aware of the everyday presence of this disease.
He had tried to deny having it, but his cough didn’t fade away. And after seeing small yellow petals mixed between the specks of green, he had to begrudgingly accept his fate.
Gakushuu still believes that it’s a mistake. This man gives him nothing but pain and hate, so he returns the same feelings.
Nothing more.
The stranger sits at the table, reading the newspaper. Gakushuu can hear him scoff and walks past him, glancing at the article.
“Tragic death of a famous child actor! Parents on trial for child neglect!”
His classmates had already told him about this case.
Parents blinded by the success of their child, neglecting its needs. An unlucky case of Hanahaki disease, not recognized in time to save them. It was far more common than they would think.
Gakushuu can still hear the wailing of his classmates, about how they should have gotten into surgery, how someone should have helped the poor soul. Their lack of understanding why they told no one about their struggles.
And Gakushuu can’t help the pang in his heart every time he thinks of the story.
He continues to the fridge and begins to prepare his breakfast.
The more Gakushuu thinks about it, the more his head spins. He tries to suppress the light shaking of his hands, ignores how everything gets slightly blurry. His head hurts, but he pushes on.
They couldn’t possibly understand.
People that need help are weak.
People that get caught up with their feelings are useless.
He had to learn this the hard way and he’ll never forget it.
Gakushuu throws the adult a quick glance. He can never tell him about his secret.
He can never ask him for help.
He can never let him know this weakness.
If he finds out, Gakushuu can already picture his reaction. The cold, calculating look in his eyes, the grin that makes Gakushuu want to run away. The aura that screams danger, the endless possibilities how he could use this knowledge against Gakushuu.
No, he could never confide in him.
He hates this man.
And if he can feel his chest tightening and a scratching in his throat, he ignores it.
Gakushuu slams the bathroom door shut behind him.
He presses his back on the door and sinks to the ground. Before Gakushuu can do anything else, his body starts to shake, overtaken by one of his coughing fits, he tried to suppress for far too long. He doubles up, throwing up the familiar yellow petals.
Throwing up his feelings, feelings he doesn’t have. It’s as if his body repels them, tries to get rid of them.
Rid of his stupid melancholy. Rid of his stupid hope. Rid of his childish wishes.
Because they shouldn’t be there.
Gakushuu feels tears burning in his eyes.
He knows better, he should know better.
Know better than to hold on to these fantasies. They will never come true, this stranger will never be his father again.
Even if he thinks he saw a glimpse of pride in the eyes of this man when the student body chose him as student council president.
But he must have imagined it. After all, Gakushuu could still hear the subsequent reprimand echoing in his head. The warning that every mistake he makes could be his last.
He doesn’t want to fail, to disappoint, but his aching chest drags him back to reality.
He always fails, he always disappoints, and he can feel it with every forced breath he takes.
Gakushuu tries to clear his throat, knowing that it is a fruitless endeavor. There will always be the remnants of his weakness.
He can feel Ren’s worried eyes on him, everyone’s eyes on him.
Waiting for him to make a mistake, waiting to throw him to the ground and rip him apart. Like hawks watching their prey.
Gakushuu swallows and begins his speech, minding every word like a step on a minefield.
The stranger started this war, and he doesn’t plan on losing, no matter the challenge. He has already come so far, despite everything, despite the constricting feeling in his lungs, turning every breath into a struggle.
Gakushuu walks off the stage, his throat burning. For a moment he let’s relief wash over him, he can do this.
The bottom of a water bottle enters his view, and he sees Ren offering it to him, worry written all over his face.
He silently takes it with a thankful smile and drinks a bit, washing down the taste of greenery and iron in his mouth.
If you think about it, it’s stupid. Why flowers? Aren’t they supposed to be something nice? Romantic?
Gakushuu saw the countless books describing dramatic love stories with the threat of death, caused by these flowers.
It’s ridiculous, they aren’t beautiful. They aren’t romantic or poetic in any way, shape or form. Not when his stomach burns and feels like it gets turned inside out, not when his throat is pierced as if countless nails slowly travel it up, ripping it open with every inch they move.
Gakushuu is up on the hill.
Weird, he hasn’t been here since elementary school. The last time his father took him here to play. This was years ago, but the place looks like it hasn’t changed a bit.
He wanders around without a destination until he hears laughter in the distance. Gakushuu follows the sound and freezes. There he is, his father playing with a younger version of himself.
Gakushuu blinks, but they are still there, he is still there. He wants to cry out, run to him, but he can’t move, his vocal chords don’t produce a single sound.
His father fades away, and he’s alone with his younger self. They look at each other and the young Gakushuu runs up to him, a wide smile on his face.
He looks so happy, so carefree.
Gakushuu remembers the look on his younger self, looking at his father. The man he only knows as a stranger now.
Why did he leave him alone? With no guidance, with nothing.
His legs feel weak, like blades of grass that can snap with the lightest gust of wind.
He is on his knees, looking at the unaware face of his former self. Gakushuu wants to say anything, warn him. Tell him not to let go, but he can’t.
He opens his mouth but instead of words flowers leave him, blocking everything he wants to say. Gakushuu tries and tries, but it won’t stop.
He covers the ground with thousands of dandelions.
Suddenly the younger Gakushuu vanishes, and he is all alone in the field of flowers. All alone, like always.
Alone with the flowers he despises. He can’t control them. They just keep coming, are the only thing he can see.
And then the ground gives way.
He’s falling, surrounded by dandelions, dropping like blood.
Then he wakes up, the feeling in his throat more prominent than ever before.
Sometimes Gakushuu wonders if it had been better if his father really had died that day.
His aching chest betrays him.
Dandelions coated in his blood spill out of his mouth.
Gakushuu looks at them, their delicate petals drenched in red. Tumbling onto his hands, filling them, dripping to the ground.
Drip, drip, drip.
His blood mixes with the blood of the others on his hands.
Drip, drip, drip.
Proof of his weakness.
He is weak, his body is weak. The growing splatters on the floor speak for themselves, day by day. Screaming his failures.
He can see them, these flowers that cause him so much trouble. Full, blooming, taunting him.
Gakushuu glares at them. How can something so delicate defeat him?
His hands clench around the flowers, bending and ripping them apart.
He hates them, he hates them, he hates him.
With burning eyes, Gakushuu throws them all on the ground, stomps on them, destroying them more and more.
He isn’t weak; he isn’t so easily defeated by some measly flowers.
He is strong.
He needs to be strong.
Stronger.
Gakushuu’s whole mouth is covered in blood and all he can taste is iron. It’s overwhelming, overshadowing everything else.
Gakushuu doesn’t know if it’s from the impact or the flowers, violently piercing his lungs, trying to escape.
But does it even matter? In the end, it’s all the same.
He lets out a laugh that sounds more like a cough. His voice is hoarse and scratches at his throat with every word, but he can’t leave this triumph uncommented.
Not when the man looks at him like he has seen a ghost. Like he sees him for the first time after all these years.
With every syllable Gakushuu speaks, he feels the flowers clawing their way up his windpipe. Cutting it slowly open in a desperate plea to be free.
He can’t suppress another cough and his friends usher him out of the room, cautiously looking at the stranger, resembling his father.
Gakushuu and Ren are alone in the room, a crushing atmosphere filling it. Ren’s sight is fixed to the wall, guilty features painting his face.
Gakushuu wants to say something, anything, to reassure him that everything is fine. But a coughing fit interrupts him.
Full bloody dandelions leave his mouth, adorning the blanket of the infirmary in a grotesque contrast of white and red.
He can see the exact moment all the puzzle pieces fall into place in Ren’s mind. His odd behaviour, his permanent ‘cold’, the stranger living with him.
Ren has always been more attentive than many gave him credit for.
He looks at him, brown eyes wavering with uncertainty.
“Gakushuu, I-”
“It’s nothing, forget it,” Gakushuu interrupts him, scooping up the flowers to throw them away and avoiding his friend’s stare.
“No, it’s not nothing! How- why- we could-”
Ren takes his wrist and turns him around so that they look at each other. He can see how his friend was fighting with his words, unsure what’s the right thing to say.
“Ren, really. It’s my decision, I-” Gakushuu starts, not knowing what he should say.
What should he tell him? If there’s one person he can confide in, it’s Ren, but where should he even start? The way the stranger brought him up? The way he constantly fears to make a mistake, to fall down and get thrown into the dirt? The way he wishes for his father, the one he lost all these years ago? The way he misses his hugs, laughs, everything they once had? The way he hates this stranger but still yearns for his approval, wants to make him proud?
Wants to be loved?
In the end he says nothing, lets his tears speak for themselves. Enjoying the warmth of another person holding him.
“I can’t change your mind, can I?” Ren whispers after a few minutes. He can hear the sad, knowing undertone in the voice of his friend.
“No.”
The arms around him tighten a bit. More moments of silence pass until Ren speaks again.
“Alright. Just- I mean, please, just stay with us.”
Gakushuu is staying over at Ren’s house.
It has been a few weeks since their talk in the infirmary. He has spent more time with his friends, away from home.
Gakushuu has told no one, not even Ren, but he doesn’t think he can continue like this. He’s tired, the constant ache in his chest a familiar companion, feeding off of his energy. He had tried for so long, but maybe sometimes failing is okay.
After all, he always fails.
Ren sits down beside him on the couch.
“It’s late, we should go to sleep. You look exhausted.”
Gakushuu leans against his friend with closed eyes.
“Let’s stay like this for a bit,” his voice is small, but he is used to it. Breathing just got harder over the years and his head spins a bit, fuzzy thoughts jumbled.
They stay like this for a while until Ren speaks up again.
“I know, I said I wouldn’t bring it up again, but- Gakushuu, please think about it. We, I don’t want to lose you.”
Gakushuu forces one of his eyes open and looks at Ren with a small smile.
“I never told you, but even if I wanted to, it’s too late. I looked up the progression and let’s just say it would take a miracle.”
He feels the room's atmosphere drop, but he can’t go back now. Sleep is already threatening to overtake his senses, and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever have a chance to say this again. Ren hugs him with one arm while Gakushuu forms his next sentences.
“To be honest, I don’t think I can do this anymore,” he pauses and laughs dryly.
“I really should have done things differently… But thank you for being by my side.”
The rest is a blur.
Gakushuu thinks Ren answered him, but he couldn’t make out the words. He remembers getting moved somewhere and Ren calling someone before he lost his consciousness, but he isn’t really sure about this.
Gakushuu is glad that he isn’t alone in his last moments, but something is missing. He really hopes Ren called his home.
He wants his father to be by his side.