Work Text:
“Love isn’t supposed to be painful!”
Jeonghan has been a licensed cardiologist for three years now and day by day, he’s still in disbelief with the amount of Hanahaki patients they encounter.
“I still don’t understand how there’s still no scientific explanation behind this, Shuji-yah.”
“Hannie, we’ve had this conversation over and over again. There’s just some circumstances that even science can’t explain.” Jeonghan knows that his best friend, fellow cardiologist Joshua, doesn’t harbor the same interest in the disease as him.
“Besides, I don’t get why you’re this worked up again. Was your recent patient that bad?” Joshua probes.
Jeonghan knew that his last patient - a 19-year-old girl who passed away in her sleep yesterday wasn’t his worst case of late, but there’s just something about the red carnations that he found during surgery that speaks to him.
Hanahaki cases have spiked lately, recently being referred to as the “silent killer.” Oftentimes, those who suffer from the disease keep it a secret. Either due to shame or martyrdom, Jeonghan can’t tell. Only few - those Jeonghan thinks is sane enough to prioritize their own life - signed themselves up for surgery. Cardiologists like him and Joshua would open up their chests, cut off the roots and stems of the specific flowers that slowly squeeze their hearts, and numb their nerve endings to not be vulnerable for love in the future.
It’s either death or a future without feeling butterflies in your stomach ever again. Jeonghan doesn’t know what he’ll choose so who was he really to judge his patients.
But he thinks of that young girl. Was a future without feeling love so bleak for her that she chose to spend her last days silently loving someone who can never return the same feelings? Jeonghan thinks of a future without a certain dimpled smile and long eyelashes and comfy cuddles that for a second, he can empathize with that girl’s decision.
What’s there to live for when you can’t have the one you can’t live without?
Jeonghan didn’t realize he'd been spacing out until Joshua started nudging him. “Hannie, stop overthinking things. You know there’s really not much we can do without their consent, right? If they come here before their seventh-day mark, we’ll try our best to encourage them to get the surgery. But if they don’t want it, we’ll try to make their last days less painful.”
Jeonghan winces. “It’s just… I just feel so frustrated that there’s still no other options aside from surgery, Shuji.”
“Well, we’ve never heard of a case of someone managing to stop their feelings before the seventh-day mark, so we’ll never know if that’s possible, Hannie.”
Seven days, Jeonghan laughs bitterly. How dare this disease even set a fucking deadline. It’s either you fall out of love willingly or you’d end up dead or numb.
He feels someone massage his shoulder. Joshua. “You did great today, Hannie. Stop thinking about work. You’re running late for your dinner with Seungcheol.”
“Oh, fuck! Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Shuji! It’s our anniversary dinner!”
“Excuse me! I’ve been reminding you throughout the day but you’re being obsessed with Hanahaki today!” Joshua just laughs as see his best friend rush out of the doctor’s lounge. He hopes that Jeonghan will stop thinking about work once he’s with his boyfriend.
-
With the amount of painful and one-sided encounters that Jeonghan comes across daily, it’s his own stable relationship that anchors him. Bliss. Jeonghan thinks as Seungcheol sleeps peacefully, spooning him from behind.
This is why Jeonghan hasn’t turned cynical with the notion of love. Joshua always reprimands him that not everyone is as lucky as him in the love department, and that the best that they can do as doctors is to not impose their thoughts and beliefs on their patients.
But the hopeless romantic in Jeonghan can’t help but wish that everyone can experience how magical true love feels.
It’s the way Cheol pouts every time Han has to cancel one of their plans because of an emergency surgery, but still doesn’t throw a tantrum because Cheol understands that this is where Han’s passion lies. It’s the way Cheol reminds Han to stop leaving his things haphazardly around their shared apartment but ends up tidying the place himself because Han just came from a 36-hour rotational duty and he’s dead beat. It’s the way Cheol accepts overtime duties so he can file for a leave on Han’s day-offs because Cheol won’t allow them to spend two weeks without enjoying at least one afternoon lounging and watching movies before both of their hectic work schedules keep them apart.
It’s the way Cheol can’t eat spicy food but still let Han order the ramen set because the bundle includes Jeonghan’s favorite. It’s the way Cheol secretly cleans Ddoljong room or picks up random pieces of lego even if he originally questioned Han’s hobbies.
It’s the huge things, the small things - the everything in between.
Jeonghan knows he’s lucky. It has always been easy and smooth with his Cheollie.
Okay, maybe things aren’t as easy and smooth as it has been lately. But Jeonghan knows they’ll always make it work.
“Why aren’t you sleeping yet, baby?” Jeonghan is broken out of his reverie when Seungcheol fidgets behind him.
Han faces Cheol and burrows closer to his shoulder. “Hmm, nothing much, just thinking,” he replies.
Cheol starts to hum a tune, loving you is easy by honne, as he brushes Han’s hair. “Go to sleep love, you’ve been coughing since we came from dinner. Stop overworking yourself, yes?”
Jeonghan slowly succumbs to sleep - coughing but feeling content still.
He was confused when he found a petal of a red tulip near his pillow the following morning.
-
“Hey, Han. Thought you had surgeries scheduled today. Was it cancelled?”
“Hmm, no. They were both successful, Shuji.”
“Oh,” Joshua comes closer to Jeonghan. “Is there anything wrong, Hannie? It’s weird that you’re not complaining about Hanahaki after a surgery, you know?”
Hanahaki. There it is again. For the past 36 hours, Jeonghan hasn’t spent a single second without that fucking disease in his mind. How does he explain to his best friend that the disease he’s been obsessing over for years suddenly affects him, too?
Was this how his patients felt? Jeonghan shakes his head. Most of them are victims of unrequited love, of hidden adoration. None of the 238 patients in his cardiologist career was in a fucking seven year relationship when they were diagnosed with Hanahaki.
So why the hell is he coughing out red tulip petals when his Seungcheol still holds him at night, still kisses him awake in the morning, still prepares his snack box knowing he needs the sugar after long hours in surgery. Why the hell is his Seungcheol acting like he still loves Jeonghan when the amount of petals he’s spewing out of his mouth proves otherwise?
Jeonghan thought the petals of red tulips were just a surprise from Seungcheol. He remembered their early years, his Cheollie would always bring him random flowers even if there was no occasion. Since Han started working on Hanahaki cases, he started studying the language of flowers. It made understanding his patients easier - how they feel, who they love. Han didn’t realize that seeing such beautiful flowers could make him feel so… repulsed.
But his sweet Cheollie was always there to cleanse his mindset. On those nights when Han cried after losing a patient in surgery, Cheol was there holding him with a random flower. They’ll make up their own theories and stories. Maybe she has always been in love with her best friend, Hannie. That’s why you found a sunflower in her chest. It symbolizes true happiness, right? Maybe she was happy to just watch him be happy with someone else from afar. Or Hannie-yah, is it yellow and white roses again? Why do you find more yellows and whites than reds, though? You said red roses are for love, white is for purity and yellow is for friendship. Was their love so pure for their friends they can’t dare to hope for it to be romantic?
It was his Cheollie who made Hannie eager to learn more about his patients more than the flowers he found in their chest. And, it’s Seungcheol who makes Jeonghan question as to why of all the flowers that could grow in his chest, it would be red tulips.
Because it just proves that no matter how painful the cough has become, no matter how confused he is to be in this situation, the truth remains that he will always genuinely adore Choi Seungcheol. With every fiber of his being.
“Fuck, Han. Are you okay?” Jeonghan doesn’t realize that he’s been silently crying in front of Joshua.
He tries to act nonchalant. “Sorry, Shuji. It’s just… my latest patient. She’s just on her third day, still savable as we say… But she doesn’t want to get treated… She even wants me to give a box of her belongings to her beloved, her best friend on day seven… You know, I heard her - the one she loves, she was begging my patient to get the treatment… She even asked ‘Is the pain worth it? If it hurts you this much, why can’t you let go?’”
Joshua doesn’t understand why Jeonghan is a sobbing mess in his arms right now. They’ve witnessed their fair share of painful conversations throughout the years, but he noticed how Jeonghan has been tormented by Hanahaki cases lately.
He tries to console Han as much as he can, not knowing that his best friend’s ragged breathing is not just because of his tears. But also because of the roots squeezing Han’s heart a little more.
“If it’s this painful, why do we stay?” And Jeonghan loses consciousness.
-
Jeonghan doesn’t know if the fainting spell was a blessing or a curse. The hospital forced him on a one-week break and now he’s on his way to a beach with Seungcheol, who also filed for an emergency leave “because my Hannie needs to rest and I should be there to make sure you’re okay.”
If he hadn't started coughing up full tulips this morning instead of separate petals of it alone, Jeonghan wouldn’t believe that Seungcheol doesn’t love him anymore. The day passes like their usual getaways – switching playlists, enjoying the view, small talks. The only difference is Jeonghan’s incessant coughing.
“Baby, you’re a doctor but I told you, you’re no Superman. You should’ve taken care of yourself, love.”
Jeonghan feels like crying. His Cheollie is here – fussing over him as usual, taking care of him as usual. Nothing’s amiss except for that tiny little voice inside Jeonghan’s head that screams He! Don't! Love! You! Anymore! You’re! Dying ! In ! Three ! Days! Unless ! You! Do! Something! Yoon! Jeonghan!
“Are you okay, love?” Seungcheol asks him again as he grabs Jeonghan’s hand. “Do you need anything, babe – water, food?”
“Don’t mind me, Cheollie. Just tired. But I’m excited to see the beach. Thank you for this trip, I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”
Seungcheol kisses his knuckles. “I just feel like we haven’t spent that much time lately. I know you don’t like it when I get so clingy but I miss you, you know? And yes, even if we go home to each other every night, I still miss you.”
It’s at this point that Jeonghan should start poking fun at how annoyingly clingy (but he obviously likes it) Seungcheol is. Between the two of them, Cheol has always been the one to express his feelings freely. Han always acts like a tsundere but not once did Cheol doubt how real Jeonghan’s feelings for him are.
“I miss you too, my Cheollie. I love you,” And as Cheol sends him that trademark dimpled smile, all Jeonghan thinks is that all the pain is worth it.
Jeonghan tries to give Seungcheol his brightest smile. It was hard given how difficult it is to even breathe. But Jeonghan hopes that Cheol doesn’t notice.
-
Jeonghan feels guilty. He’s living on a fucking time bomb and he still feels fucking guilty. Because he was watching the sunset by the beach, while listening to Seungcheol saying how happy he is, and all Jeonghan did was question which parts of their day, even their past years, were real.
He doesn’t think he’d already hated Hanahaki before. But to actually suffer from it silently, Jeonghan just wants to suffocate the shit out of it if he can.
In their seven years together, he never doubted Seungcheol… not until recently.
From the start, Seungcheol was always like an oversized puppy – eager, genuine, uncompromising. He was confident but never overbearing. He was straightforward but never bashful.
He was thoughtful and never oblivious.
When he’s happy, there’s always a sparkle in those big doe eyes. When he’s sad, he always chews those lips to the point of bleeding (a habit that Jeonghan has to reprimand him often).
When he’s deep in thought, there’s always this tiny frown between his brows.
Jeonghan knows Seungcheol like the back of his hand. And he could never doubt how genuine his Cheollie is.
So when they were back at the cabin and supposed to enjoy a night of cuddling, Jeonghan couldn't help but ask.
“Do you still love me, Seungcheol-ah?”
“Of course, Hannie. Why do you even have to ask?”
“Because I've been coughing out tulips for the past four days and at this rate, I only have three days left to live.”