Work Text:
Everyone was aware of hanahaki. After all, it was so easy to get. Any unrequited love, and just like that, you’re at risk for death. It was such a relief when the government made hanahaki surgeries cheap due to how often it was contracted. With this new development, it’d be easy to get rid of the disease, even if it cost you your memories of the person you loved.
And yet, with this knowledge, Marc was still terrified as he looked down at his sink, blood and petals lining it. He shakily picked one of them up, staring intensely at the telltale shape and color of a black rose.
Who…?
That was a dumb question. Marc already knew.
But, they’ve made so much progress since they met. He doesn’t want to lose that.
He’ll deal with it.
---
Marc gently explained the foreshadowing in the plot to Nathaniel as they worked on the comic in the art room, feeling a little frustrated. After all, it had already been twenty minutes.
Nathaniel's eyes lit up (finally) and he laughed, “Oh, I get it now. I’m pretty dumb, huh?”
Marc wanted to curse at him, tell him of course he’s dumb, the artist thought a story where he was a superhero was real.
He snapped out of it pretty quickly, not knowing where the thought came from.
Probably just nerves from finally working with him. They had only started the comic a week ago.
No matter how hard Marc tries to come up with an explanation, he still feels angry. He should be over it. Nathaniel had his reasons for doing it, he understands that, so he should forgive him.
That’s what the heroes told him to do, at least.
---
Roses were a common flower for people with hanahaki to have. They represented romance, passion, all sorts of deep and thoughtful meanings.
But he had never heard of anyone with black roses.
Flowers coughed up from a victim of the disease usually represented the feelings they had for their crush. So what did his flowers mean?
With a quick google search, he found his answer. But he could only find the same definition on multiple sites.
Revenge.
End of a major life event.
Death.
Despair.
Hatred.
Marc blinked. That couldn’t be right. Hanahaki is for people with unrequited love .
It must be for the jealousy he feels when other people are around Nathaniel. At least, that's the best explanation he has.
---
It got worse.
Not just in the pain, but in the situation.
He was barely able to conceal his coughing in class anymore, and Mendeleiev was starting to give him concerned looks today. But Marc managed to push through and make it to the art room.
It was empty. And somehow, his body took that as a sign that it was okay to collapse to the ground and start heaving up flowers. The amount of tears being produced by his agonized sobbing were blurring his vision so much, he couldn’t even see his own hands clutching at his own chest anymore.
It hurt, it hurt so much, make it stop-
He looked up. Maybe he could get someone to take him to the nurse?
But instead, he saw the one person he never wanted to see Marc this vulnerable. Nathaniel was frozen in the entrance, hand still placed on the door, eyes wide open in shock.
The writer choked, although he couldn’t tell whether it was on the flowers in his throat or on his tears.
---
Nathaniel did end up taking him to the nurse’s office, interrogating the writer the entire way there.
He was only able to walk out a few hours later, after resting on the bed, unable to move from the amount of pain coursing through his body.
“Who is it?”
Marc jumped, clutching onto the doorframe of the nurse’s office, “O-Oh, Aurore.”
The blonde stood there, with a heavy gaze.
“Who. Is. It.”
Marc gulped, fighting down the urge to cough, “Who is what?” He yelped as she stormed up to him, grabbing him by the jacket and shoving him against the nearest wall. Honestly, not the smartest thing to do to someone who was coughing up blood a couple of hours earlier.
“Stop that! Don’t pretend you don’t know! Who do you like?! Who gave you hanahaki?!”
“I-It’s Nathaniel!” Marc squeaked, cringing back from the forceful girl. Aurore immediately noticed, letting go and backing away, suddenly seeming to remember what caused him to go to the infirmary in the first place.
“The guy who ripped up your journal? You like him?”
Marc shrugged, hugging himself, with a sheepish smile, “I think I do?”
“You have a life-threatening illness over a boy who you’re not even sure you like?!” She shouted, Marc flinching away. Aurore stopped immediately, “Sorry, sorry, I’m just… concerned. I don’t want you…”
Marc gave a shaky smile, “I don’t know. I want to like him, but I feel so conflicted over everything. I don’t even think he’s apologized.”
Aurore gripped him by the shoulders, making sure they were making eye contact.
“Do you think he’s worth it?”
He took a shaky breath. Marc shut his eyes, before quietly answering.
“No.”
---
“Marc!” Nathaniel called out after Marc walked into the art room a couple of days later, “Are you okay?”
Marc nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“But those were flowers! That means-”
“I got the surgery over the weekend,” Marc lied through his teeth.
Nathaniel blinked, before grinning, “That’s great. I’m glad you’re okay.”
The writer smiled as he sat down next to the artist, “Thanks. Shall we get started on the comic again?”
After the revelation he didn’t truly love Nathaniel, he saw the other in a much different light. He wasn’t some perfect deity that couldn’t do anything wrong. He did do wrong.
And Marc wasn’t going to spare any of his love until Nathaniel learned that fact.
Marc always thought that the only ways to get rid of hanahaki were to have the person love you back or the surgery. Turns out that falling out of love worked just as well.
Next to him, Nathaniel coughed into his hand. He quickly hid it before anyone could see the blood and single petal of a purple hyacinth in his hand.