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Vyn Richter was an enigma. Beautiful, elegant, enticing even. Not one other person in the world did he allow to step past the walls of his lone heart, not one other person but you. You were the exception.
Yet even the exception could be left in the dark.
Vyn didn’t know when it started—when he started having feelings for you.
All he knew was that whenever he’d have you in his sight, his breathing would hitch and flowers would bloom in his chest, tickling and leaving it aflutter.
He wondered what it was.
“Dr. Richter!” You called out to him one day.
He had just dismissed his class when he heard your voice outside the lecture hall. He grinned as he walked up to you.
“Ah, and for what reason have the gods blessed me with a visit from a beautiful woman like you?”
You rolled your eyes at his words.
“You’re dramatic today, aren't you? Well,” you struck a modest pose, yet attempting to look as attractive as possible, “this beautiful woman you speak of is here to steal you away. That is, if you aren’t busy, of course.”
“I like the sound of that.” He replies, offering his arm out to you.
The bystanders watch in surprise at your small exchange. Who was it that could invoke such a response from their beloved Professor Richter?
Their hushed whispers and stolen glances burned your cheeks. It was then you realized you were in the public’s eye. Thinking about it suddenly made you apprehensive and self-conscious, you faced the floor in embarrassment; that is, until you heard someone say your name, which made you lift your head.
In front of you, Vyn was still holding out his arm for you to take, ignoring the prying spectators.
Vyn isn’t weak, he’s far from it actually.
His small show of solidity was able to give you a small push to take his arm and walk out of the building together.
You were too busy ignoring the glances of other people to notice Vyn’s expression. It’s not rare for him to smile; but for him to smile with such fondness and pride—
For him to even show feelings of endearment—
That was reserved only for you.
The original plan was to go to an amusement park, yet the weather seemed to go against your wishes. By the time you arrived, most of the rides had been temporarily closed due to rainfall.
Sensing your dejectedness, he gently patted your head and spoke, “Would you instead like to have some tea at my house?”
That was something you two did very often. It was something both of you looked forward to every time: the comfort and the solace you provided each other.
Without fail, he would welcome you into his home whenever you showed up.
Without fail, he let you go past his personal walls.
Without fail, he forced himself to shrug off his emotions because it was you involved.
You answered, “I hope I'm not imposing.”
Vyn softens his gaze.
“You never are.”
He spent the next few hours with you by his side. Watching you smile, hearing your voice, relishing in your presence—all of it warmed Vyn’s heart.
Your conversations together were full of delight with a hint of mischief. He talked about his recent lessons, you tiraded about your hardest cases so far as an attorney, and mayhaps you both slightly prattled about the private lives of your mutual friends.
And when the night was slow, tea and biscuits had long been finished, he invited you to a simple dance. More specifically, a waltz. A classical piece played in the background from his gramophone as he led you to the center of his living room.
Holding you close to him, even with all your missteps and awkward movements, he found that he could care less about the dance—rather, he cared more about you.
Later that night, after you left, he listened to his past voice recordings about you. He found himself surprised to hear how he sounded.
He thought it was uncharacteristic of him; but no, you just brought out a side of him he himself had never seen before. Fond, enamored—
“Never have I tried so hard just to win a smile.”
“Rather than understanding the hearts of a thousand people… Hers is the only one I wish to know.”
“My yearning for her is now… an addiction… One that I cannot live without…”
“In me, the tiger sniffs the rose.”
Love-struck.
He finally understood that it wasn’t just a simple infatuation he could ignore—
That was love.
And he was meant to realize it.
“Love at first sight, a notion I despised, has ironically happened to me.”
At that moment, he could say flowers bloomed in his chest.
Literally.
Small, passive coughs consumed the rest of his night. From the moment he realized the depth of his emotions, until the moment he slept—he paid no mind to them. That is, until he awoke the next day and the first thing he saw in front of him was a small, blue petal—a rose petal, no less.
Blue roses, from the fact that they don’t truly exist, are often used to signify mystery and unrequited love.
About three days later, Vyn booked an appointment to see a doctor. He was already aware about his condition, as dreadful as it may be. He himself was well versed in the field of medicine—he should know even the most basic, life-threatening illnesses. Additionally, this specific disease wasn’t as uncommon as most people thought. Vyn himself had once conducted research on it once.
“Unrequited affections weren’t anything rare. Unrequited love, however, was something to behold. To feel something so deep for someone—an emotion so profound that no words can properly express it—and for that feeling to be unreturned is, well, painful. It’s a different kind of pain; and that pain manifests itself into something more—”
“Hanahaki,” Vyn mused to himself. He laughed bitterly, his voice devoid of any hope, “figures.”
The doctor in front of him was stone-faced, but Vyn knew better. He knew that the doctor pitied him. He knew that the nurses pitied him. He knew that everyone would eventually pity him if they found out.
Afterall, wouldn’t one feel bad for anyone whose love wasn’t reciprocated—for a love that was rejected to the point one fell into such a devastating condition?
“Sir,” the doctor started. “Would you like to receive treatment? Therapy is an option, however most people tend to prefer surgery to remove the petals from their lungs entirely. Although before you decide, I must inform you that some side effects may include losing your capability to feel any emotion relating to any kind of love; or in a more severe case, you may lose your capability to feel, altogether.”
“Many people described Hanahaki as the most gorgeous disease to exist. Hanahaki, to put it simply, is emotional pain incarnated in the most beautiful way possible.”
To be cured of the disease, one would have to stop hurting entirely. They could either have their feelings returned, or they could move on. Vyn, of course, believed he could handle it on his own. He believed in his own capabilities as a psychiatrist.
Vyn gave the doctor a small smile. “No, thank you. I’ll be alright on my own from here.”
The doctor gave a nod and a few warnings about extraneous activities before Vyn was escorted out of the clinic.
The walk home gave Vyn time to think.
He was reminded of the paper he wrote before about how the majority of the people who contract the disease are those who tricked themselves into thinking they were rejected.
“More often than not, the ones rejecting the Hanahaki patients aren’t other people, but themselves.”
Most doctors find a solution to Hanahaki through surgery. It was the fastest way to get rid of it completely, despite the potential side effects. Therefore, most people prefer this option. “To permanently take away the pain,” they say.
Vyn knew—from months of surveying and researching—he knew that from the bottom of his heart, Hanahaki was more of a mental illness than it was anything else.
Instead of conducting surgery, he believed therapy was the safer option. The only flaws were that therapy took time and it wasn’t a guarantee for the patients to be immune from the disease. Furthermore, there’s a good number of patients who had chosen to get rid of Hanahaki through surgery—only to end up regretting that decision.
“Each case of Hanahaki from start to finish would last a year at most, and even then, most patients’ cases become critical by the tenth month—frankly, a rather tight time frame for someone to go through mental rehabilitation. It isn’t impossible, though.”
Vyn always described those who battled Hanahaki through therapy as strong. Strong enough to try to fight against both the disease and their own mentality within a year. Strong enough to still want to fall in love, despite knowing they’re still susceptible to Hanahaki. Strong enough to want to live a life where they could still feel their own emotions— feel their own vulnerability.
“If someone had enough will and desire, they could overcome the pain and emerge triumphant. They could still continue to live a life without feeling the emptiness and desolation of having their emotions stripped away from them.”
Vyn called them strong—them only.
Now, Vyn isn’t weak, he’s far from it actually.
Despite the emotional toll he carries on his shoulders day after day, he manages to go by. He keeps himself in check with his emotional state in order for him to avoid being swallowed whole by his thoughts.
Yet sometimes, he really just can’t help it—he falls prey to his own mind.
Vyn knows what he’s doing. He knows what’s happening.
He knows that it's just his own mentality throwing him off the edge.
(But you know what?)
(He can’t bring himself to stop.)
Vyn believed he could live with the pain. He thought he could grow past his childish affections and continue his regular schedule. With time, he would get used to the pain until he’d stop hurting.
Oh, how he was wrong. Severely wrong.
A month later, Vyn found himself coughing out a few more petals by the day.
“Vyn, you look pale. Are you alright?” Artem asked him during one of their meetings for a recent case.
Vyn smiled, not quite reaching his eyes.
“And if I told you I wasn’t, what would you do?” He teased, attempting to mask the tightening feeling in his chest.
Artem lifted an eyebrow as if he was able to see through Vyn’s sly attempt to coerce him into changing the subject of the conversation; as if he knew about Vyn’s feelings and the effect it had on him—his health specifically.
Vyn kept his composure; despite the fact his limbs started to feel weak, ready to give up at any moment. The image he wanted to display—one that was his usual sly front, an especially healthy looking one—was considerably far off from what he actually looked like.
After a few moments, Artem finally let go of the matter, afterall, they had a case to attend to. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from neglecting the fact he thought Vyn was sick; whenever he could, Artem would forcibly have Vyn take a break.
What he did neglect, however, was to take notice of the single, blue, rose petal sitting at the foot of the desk where Vyn worked.
(He wished he had noticed just a bit earlier; then maybe, things would’ve changed.)
Vyn and Artem usually worked in silence. ‘Speak only when needed’ was their silent agreement.
The agreement, in all the years of their collaboration, was tossed aside only on two occasions: (1) whenever the younger members of the group were present, and (2) during a specific meeting—one a bit more than a month after Vyn found out about his condition.
Vyn was seated in the center of the room, near the round table filled with files waiting for his analysis. Artem, on the other hand, typed away on a desk near the corner of the room. They had previously been analysing files together, until Artem headed off to create a report about one of the investigations they had access to.
Sunlight shone through the glass windows and lit up the area. This was their usual meeting routine; that is, whenever it was only the two of them included. It was one of the rarer occasions—the other members of NXX not being able to attend. For the past weeks, it had only been the two of them entering and leaving the meeting room.
Their comfortable silence continued for a few more minutes—that is, until Artem’s tie clip fell to the ground, near the foot of the desk he was working on. He pushed his chair back and leaned down to pick it up. And, there he saw a gorgeous blue that contrasted shining gold. Curiosity filled his gaze as he reached out to the foreign object; forgetting what he leaned down for in the first place.
He picked it up, examined it, then realized.
Artem uttered Vyn’s name; his voice resonating within the room, interrupting whatever serene comfort they basked in. Vyn noted that the other sounded panicked—horrified, even. He turned his head away from the files in front of him, wondering what had gotten Artem into such a state.
Oh.
In less than a second, Vyn’s chest tightened at the sight of the object in Artem’s hand. It was a gorgeous rose petal tinted royal blue with spots of red, one identical to those that had been haunting him for the past month.
“Richter… how long has it been?” Artem asked, his voice now filled with concern.
No matter how much he wanted to, Vyn couldn’t look away from the man in front of him. That was something he admired about Artem—his ability to have people look straight at him when he wanted them to—but in the current moment, Vyn detested it.
Despite his tightening chest, Vyn was strangely calm; as if he’d expected this to happen, as if this were an occurrence just looming around the corner. He knew it was futile to try to dismiss the petal. Artem was the type to see through most things when given enough evidence—and he had just seen one petal too much.
Vyn sighs defeatedly. There really was no chance for him to get away with this one. “A bit more than a month.”
Silence took over the room for a few seconds. The air conditioner whirred as white noise; almost as if it took pity on the stillness of the room and decided to fill in the emptiness. Artem was the first to speak up.
“Who else knows?”
Vyn replies with silence.
“Were you not planning to tell anyone...? Not even...” Artem trailed off, unsure if he should mention you. He didn’t have to clarify who it was that held Vyn’s affections. It was clear to anyone who had witnessed your interactions. “I wasn’t planning to do it any time soon. You only found out by chance.” Vyn stated matter-of-factly as he crossed his legs and forced himself to busy his thoughts with files. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Artem’s voice was filled with concern and an underlying feeling of pain. For some reason, that overwhelmed Vyn.
“If I did, I’d only have a harder time.” Vyn hoped Artem didn’t notice the small tremble in his voice. “Harder time doing what?”
Vyn ignored Artem’s question, aimlessly shuffling around files and pretending to read them. “Richter?” The frustration in Artem’s voice was evident.
The man in question, once again, found his body betraying him—he started another coughing fit. Petals kept appearing before Vyn while Artem had only frozen in place, his back turned towards Vyn as a sign of consideration. The former didn’t blame him for not doing anything—rather, he was grateful for it. They remained like that for the next few minutes. No one was counting the time; it may have even lasted ten minutes long. Time passed by in a flash for Artem, while it ran excruciatingly slow for Vyn. For every petal he vomited, it felt like almost half an hour.
After what seemed like months, Vyn was finally able to catch his breath. He relaxed into the chair; his eyes closed while his fingers massaged his throat. The clinking of glass caught his attention, then suddenly Artem was merely a few feet away from him.
“Here, drink some water.” Artem said as he pushed the glass closer. After a while, he continued, “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable somehow.” Vyn nodded in reply and took a few gulps from the glass in front of him. The taste of nectar and metal slowly washed away with every rush of water that passed through. Vyn noted that Artem seemed calmer than before.
While Vyn was drinking, Artem eyed the petals on the floor. He wondered why exactly Vyn developed Hanahaki; it was obvious you felt the same way. “Richter never faltered about the truth, yet why did he..?” Artem silently questioned. He took this time to calm himself down and organize his thoughts.
Vyn glanced at Artem and sighed to himself. He needed someone else to confide in—someone he could trust, even if they didn’t get along so well. And that someone, he decided at that moment, was Artem.
Vyn asked Artem to sit across from him, then he told Artem everything: from the day he realized he had Hanahaki, up until the current day they lived in. He allowed himself to be vulnerable—at that moment, he was raw. Bare. Human.
Artem, in return, patiently listened. He listened, and listened, and listened. He didn’t make any comments, nor did he make any reactions that could cause Vyn to falter in telling his story.
Artem remained calm, albeit concerned, but calm nonetheless. As an attorney, that was one of the many things he did well. As a friend, well, that was something Vyn admired him for. Not only was he the extra authority of rationality, but he was also the pillar of the group.
By the time Vyn had finished his story, the sun had already been setting the horizon ablaze with all sorts of colors and hues. Vyn had gone off to brew tea, while Artem proceeded to clean the petals scattered on the floor. The soothing scent of tea that wafted through the air helped relax the atmosphere. The once frigid, suffocating air in the room turned warmer.
Vyn returned a few minutes later with tea and a few pastries to accompany. “Here.” He set the tray down on the table in front of Artem. The latter muttered an appreciation for the gesture. Artem only eyed the food in front of him, unsure whether he should be leisurely eating at a time like this. Vyn sighed then sat down across the other man.
He took one of the teacups in his hand then proceeded to take small sips of the drink. He used the clock to keep himself grounded—gliding his thumb along the teacup handle, matching the beat of the ticking. They continued on like that for a few seconds, that is, until a small voice echoed throughout the room. Vyn was a bit surprised to find that it was his own.
“Take care of her when I’m gone, okay?”
The response was almost instantaneous.
“Could you at least try?” Try to live.
“Yeah.”
Vyn continued, “Yeah I can.” I can’t guarantee anything.
Many more months passed by, and Vyn’s condition only worsened.
Here he was now: nine months into the disease. He was currently confined in a hospital nearer to the countryside; and his only visitor was Artem.
At first, he coughed out small petals one by one. Then after a few months passed, he’d cough out two medium-sized petals at a time—and god knows how many times he’d be coughing in one day. He had grown accustomed to the overbearing metallic tang that would appear on his tongue more often than not.
Eventually, he had taken time off from his normal routine. He stopped teaching two months into the disease. He stopped accepting and attending to patients in the hospital three months in. And, he finally agreed to see a psychiatrist six months in, which was already considered late. At that point, he scarcely contacted his workmates nor his personal friends—more so when it came to you.
Artem was the one people reached out to when they wanted to know about Vyn’s condition. At first, Vyn was the one replying to messages and greetings; though, through time, the task was pushed over to Artem.
Hesitantly, Vyn had forced himself to stop from personally replying to your messages. Distancing himself from you became his resolve. He decided not to tell you anything, at least, not until he was about to go.
He decided on his resolve a few months back, during one of his first meetings with his psychiatrist.
His psychiatrist, a lovely married woman in her 40s, was far from incapable. She had successfully helped a vast amount of people recover from Hanahaki, most of which still continued to seek the love they all wanted. She was comforting, understanding, and careful. Despite all that, she didn’t sugar coat her words; she was straight to the point, which was an admirable trait to have as a psychiatrist.
“Have you ever considered that there might be even an inkling of a chance that you were wrong?” She asked him, softly and encouragingly. Vyn nods.
She continued, “How are you so sure she doesn’t return those feelings?”
It wasn’t anything Vyn hadn’t thought of before. More than once, it had crossed his mind. And every time, without fail, it would be out of his thoughts faster than it even came in.
He placed his cup down on its plate atop the table, the clinking of ceramic resonating within the room. The light, clear sound cut through their conversation—nearly comical against Vyn’s expression.
There it was, as clear as day. Vyn, of all his expressions, was smiling. Almost as if he had an epiphany (he didn’t). What he did have, though, was pain.
“I’m not."
Of all the things Vyn knew, this was not one of them. He wasn’t sure if you would return his feelings or not. Since the day you came into his life, you’ve thrown him into a sea of emotions; and he’s afraid he doesn’t know how to properly stay afloat.
He realized that this was fate’s punishment to him; and he intended to accept it. Fate never wanted him too happy; he didn’t deserve it. That’s why he thought fate put you in his life—you are his living reminder that he doesn’t deserve happiness.
The real truth was: the deepest part of him doesn’t truly believe that an inkling of a chance of you liking him back even exists—that there’s a possibility he holds your affections.
“I don’t deserve you, and I never will.” The statement replayed in his mind once again, mindlessly brainwashing himself since the day he realized his feelings for you.
“Even for the selfish, utterly greedy man that I am, I can’t desire a blue rose to appear in my hands and stay with me for as long as I want it.” He thought to himself.
He could delusion himself about you all he wants—be that as it may, he will always know they are merely his own delusions and nothing more.
It was nearly 7 p.m. and you were one of the only ones left in the firm. You had taken on extra work because your partner had taken a leave for the day. Just as you finished writing your defense statement for a recent case, your phone started ringing. The caller ID shows “Artem Wing”.
You picked up the phone. “Hello? Artem?”
You expected a calm and relaxed voice to greet you, yet instead you were met with an almost out-of-breath and panicked one. “Hello. I’m afraid I have no time to explain in full detail, but you need to get ready to leave this instant. Are you at home?”
“No, I’m at the firm.” You reply instantly. And despite your confusion, you started scrambling for your belongings. “Great. I’ll be there in 10 minutes.” He replies. True enough to his word, he arrived outside the firm in less than ten minutes and you immediately entered—not wanting to waste another second.
When the car halted at a stoplight, you took the chance to question your partner. “So, where are we heading? Is there evidence we missed for the case?”
Artem turned to face you, and in his face was a mixture of hesitance and worry. His silence continues for a few more seconds until he finally opens his mouth to speak. His voice was calm and reserved—any traces of his inner feelings were skillfully masked away, to the point you even questioned if what you previously saw existed in the first place.
“We’re going to see Richter.”
And your heart drops. The inside of the car, if not for the faint bustle of the city, was quiet enough to hear even your heart shatter. You croak out, “Why is it so urgent? Did something happen?” Your voice was unstable and shaky. You keep your eyes staring straight at the other person. He was the first to turn away.
He sighed, “He’s in a critical condition. His life is … compromised.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You continue, almost exasperated, “What exactly did he go through?”
“I believe it’s not my place to tell. And plus, you’d find out very quickly.”
“Just not early enough. ” He continued in his thoughts.
The stoplight turned green and Artem hurriedly stepped on the gas pedal. The faster the car ran, the faster your heart beat. Your mind blanked for the rest of the ride; everything was a blur.
And before you knew it, you were already inside the hospital—walking closer and closer to Vyn.
Artem led the way to Vyn’s room. Your steps were light as you followed your partner; as if the vinyl flooring were pushing against your feet. At first, you noticed the smell of rubbing alcohol and the chatter of nurses that filled the hospital. Yet the more you walked, the less you heard jumbled chatter—and the more you heard muffled hacking. Instead of rubbing alcohol, the fragrance of flowers drifted in the air. Each time you passed by a room, you could point out a different scent.
“We’re here.” Artem’s voice cut through your thoughts. The strong scent of roses and metal filled your senses. You took one glance at Artem and nodded at him. He moved to open the door in one swift motion, then stepped aside quietly to show you the other man.
A breath, one that you didn’t even notice you were holding, escaped your mouth.
Vyn was gorgeous.
You were enthralled at the sight before you. All that was in your sight was him sitting atop an endless field of blue roses. He had a faraway look on his face, giving you perfect access to admire the mole under his eye. His eyes glistened against the moonlight, captivating you even more.
Once again, it was Artem’s voice that brought you out of your stupor. “Vyn, just as you requested...” You couldn’t register the rest of what Artem was saying after that.
Vyn had turned to look at you and, oh, he looked weak. So, so weak. He was thinner, as if he had nothing left but petals to vomit. He was pale, as if there was no color left in his body. His eyes, those once beautiful, glowing golden irises, lost their flare.
Once you properly looked at him, everything came rushing at you: the fragrance of flowers and metal combined, the blue petals around him— the reason why he left.
You opened your mouth to speak, only to end up stuttering. “V-vyn…? Is this what I think it is?”
“Pathetic, isn’t it?” Vyn jeered at himself. His voice completely lost its character. He sounded empty. Blank. Meaningless.
And you finally realized that this Vyn wasn’t the same one from your memories.
You finally realized there was nothing gorgeous about the blue petals that surrounded him, nothing gorgeous about the way his eyes seemed so lifeless, nothing gorgeous about the way his eyes merely reflected the moonbeams—forgetting they once shined on their own. There was nothing gorgeous about the way Vyn was suffering.
There is nothing gorgeous about the Hanahaki Disease. There’s nothing correct about glorifying other people’s suffering.
You inched closer to him, your legs threatening to give up on you.
You shook your head. “It’s not pathetic at all.”
You finally arrived by his side. He looked up to face you and he’d never looked so small in his life. Your eyes watered as you looked at the man in front of you. The longer you gazed into his eyes, ones that used to be so full of life, the more your tears built up. You tried your best to stay strong in front of him, but it was too much. All the emotions you had tried so hard to ignore—all of them came rushing at you. It was overwhelming.
You silently broke down in front of him. And he only watched, unable to move an inch.
“I just don’t understand why...” You trailed off, unable to finish the rest of your sentence. Vyn understood your silence. To him, you were always perceptible. He read you as if you were his favorite book; one he sought comfort in. He knew you.
After a moment’s worth of contemplation, Vyn answers.
“I love you the way a man would love the sun… to the point it’s painful.”
The room was silent enough to hear even a pin drop. Hearing those words shattered your heart. It was as if a piece of your soul was ripped apart, the same part that kept holding onto that tiny glimmer of hope—one that he would come back to you.
Before you could reply, Vyn continued, “My love can hurt. It’ll hurt both me and you... My mind seems to have latched onto that idea.” He sounded remorseful. “I can’t do that to you. I can’t hurt you because of the kind of person I am—”
Every one of his words—his every sound and silence—resonated like an excruciating cacophony.
You cut him off before he could continue. “Then what about me?” Your voice was vulnerable like a thin string on the brink of snapping apart. “What about my feelings?”
Vyn turned to you in surprise—as if he hadn’t expected you to speak at all. He looked you in the eyes, unable to find an answer. His eyebrows furrowed and his lips slightly protruded, leaving him with a look of uncertainty.
Seeing him be so perplexed made the tears stream even more. It seemed as if he never considered your feelings, as if he never thought about you. Obviously, you were wrong.
Vyn, at that point in time, wanted to cup your cheeks and swipe your tears away with his thumb. He wanted to tell you that everything would be okay; but he didn’t have that privilege. He didn’t have the right to do so. He didn’t deserve it.
Instead, he merely watched as you cried. Your tears were speaking to him—telling him things as if he didn’t already know them.
He heard you speak, your words entering one ear then exiting the other—
“My love is enough for the both of us. It’s more than enough for the two of us. As long as you don’t leave, that’s enough.”
“Only the best can deserve your love. And that’s not me.” He tells himself.
He felt your warm hands against his own. He brought himself out of his thoughts, only to find that you’ve kneeled down to see him eye-to-eye.
“I feel the same way you do. I love you, Vyn.” You whispered, pleading for him to listen to your words—for him to believe you. “Please,” your voice is small and vulnerable, “don’t leave me.”
He merely eyed you—a small smile gracing his face, one devoid of any emotion.
“I will never deserve you.” He reminds himself.
He laughs self-mockingly, ignoring the loud banging of his heart. Tears threaten to spill; the urge to scream and cry out loud his own pain drowns his thoughts.
Yet his energy restricted him to a mere laugh.
How ironic.
For something as joyous and blissful as a laugh, to be meant for something so... miserable.
Vyn never gave himself a chance, and that’s what’s leading him to dust.
The mere thought of you sends Vyn onto another coughing fit. But this time, it would be his last. He gasped for air while petals and blood splattered onto his lap. He seemed so tired—lifeless, even. As if he were ready to leave any time, ready to leave the suffocating reality he lived.
Artem pulled you aside to give way to the doctors and nurses. At this point, your tears were freely rolling down your cheeks. Vyn takes one last glance at you and Artem. He stares blankly, meekly thinking, “Those two really do look good together.”
He thought you were too good for him, too good for this world—that someone like him shouldn’t taint you. He told himself he was too sly, too manipulative, too— him . And yet..
“Yet she said she loved me, didn’t she? ”
Vyn Richter, afterall, is a devious man.
“She is the change in my life, my rose, and I will hold her responsible.”
If there were anything he’d want to have in the world, it would be you.
So for the first time, he let his wishes consume his feelings and emotions.
Selfishly, greedily, desirably —
He finally let himself be free .
Blue roses, despite the fact they don’t truly exist, may also signify desire. Any kind of desire. Perhaps even one to reach for the impossible.
Vyn awoke to the sound of the heart monitor resonating throughout the room. He took a look around the room and found that Artem was nowhere to be found.
The sun shone through the windows, lighting up the dull room. “It’s warm...” He mutters to himself, not louder than a breath. These past few months, the cold plagued his body like a winter in spring—and now, summer has arrived.
He felt a slight shifting by his legs and looked down. He found you, asleep, holding his hand. He gazed at your every inhale and exhale—he watched as you slept silently by his side.
Even the Sun seemed to love you for it scorches on every surface but lightly caresses yours. Sunbeams accentuated the softened lines in your face, the curve of your eyes, the dusted pink on your cheeks, the arch of your brows; everything the Sun touched, Vyn loved.
It made the butterflies in his stomach flitter and flutter.
Truly, summer has arrived.
You have arrived.
It made him feel warm. He felt love. He felt.
“I can feel… I’m not...” He whispered to himself in disbelief.
He feels your stirring and shuffling, and that causes him to still. Then, you slightly open your eyes and sit up, still half-asleep. You start rubbing your eyes while yawning, not noticing that Vyn had already woken up. It was only then Vyn realized the tear streaks on your face, remnants of the night before.
He brings his hand up to caress your face, his thumb swiping under the area where your tears formed. As if he were making up for what he failed to do last night.
You notice the soft touch of his fingers and flinch slightly at the contact. You bring your hand to his, and you hurriedly turn to face him.
“For how long were you crying? I’m sorry.” He says with a small smile. He hurriedly continues, “I’ll make things right, I promise. Just give me a chance.”
There it was. The clear golden irises you haven’t seen for months. The clear golden irises you’ve missed so much. The clear golden irises that belong to the Vyn you fell in love with. Seeing them almost makes you cry. Your eyes water and you melt even more into his touch.
You spoke, your voice quiet and soft. “Vyn... You should’ve just asked. I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.”
The way Vyn’s name rolled right off your tongue, the way you said his name, it felt so right. And yet… the devil on his shoulder was screaming at him just how wrong this situation was. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This was all wrong.
That gets Vyn to retract his arm and recoil inwards. His eyes turned downcast and his voice became vulnerable. “As much as I would love that idea of us getting together; you might get hurt because of me. Because I’m selfish, and manipulative, and… Well,” he shrugs, “I'm me. You’re bound to get hurt, and I don’t want that. You don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve you. And-”
“Vyn..” You call out his name and he turns to you. His eyes are red and watery. At this point, he’s hyperventilating. If a small smile from you is what it takes to calm him down, then a small smile is what you give. Furthermore, you take one of his hands into your own and rub soothing circles on the back of his palm.
“It’s okay now.” You started softly, then you continued, “You’re okay now.” Delicately and carefully, you pressed your lips to his knuckles.
The action took Vyn off guard. To say the least, he wasn’t uncomfortable—rather, it made him feel… warm. He wondered about the tender feeling in his chest, the tingling sensation spreading throughout his body, and the feeling of something blooming in his chest.
Once your lips left his knuckles, you lightly rested your forehead on the back of his palm; your thumb now giving comforting strokes on the base of his hand. You closed your eyes and relished the moment.
Your voice was hushed and low, as if trying to preserve the privacy of the moment, “That’s all that matters.”
Before he could reply, you spoke again. “And at least to me,” You lifted your head to meet his eyes once more and gave a small smile, “that’s enough for now.”
Your voice was clear—clear enough to convey your feelings, clear enough to tell Vyn how you felt.
Clear enough for Vyn to finally understand—
That was love.
He loved you.
You loved him back.
And even though he still has to work on so many things—
He was gonna be okay.