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He wanted to murder her.
Diego’s chest radiated with a blinding pain, suffocating him as he desperately held onto Silver Bullet to steady himself. Heat blossomed behind his ribs, dizzying him as he fell to his knees. His breath wavered, shoulders heaving as he finally retched.
He took a breath, the pain subsiding and his vision coming back into focus.
However, his fleeting relief from the pain was quickly stifled by the horror that he was now staring at: a slurry of blood and flowers that had just exited his body.
His shaky hand reached down and plucked a single pink petal from the ground as he cursed her name under his breath.
He wanted her to feel the same agony he felt right now.
Diego had heard of this disease before when he was a young child. His mother had once told him stories of a rare disease that would pop up in otherwise healthy people. The afflicted would be plagued with the growth of flowers in their chest, often exiting the body through violent bouts of vomiting. The true origin was unknown, but many found that it developed due to unrequited love.
There were always two outcomes in these cases: either the other person falls in love with the afflicted and cures them, or the afflicted is doomed to die a long, suffocating death by flower petal.
He would always scoff at those stories, wondering just how dumb it would be for a person to fall in love with someone who didn’t love them back. He always thought that the story was stupid, and that he would never end up like those fools.
“Diego, is everything okay?”
Diego crushed the pink flower petal in his hand before turning to Hot Pants.
“Just a dizzy spell,” Diego lied, “I’m alright now.”
Hot Pants stared at him for a moment, her lilac eyes shimmering in disbelief. There was a slight upturn in her pink-tinted lips before she nodded, “Let me help you back to camp, then.”
She placed her arm around his waist before he could protest, pulling him impossibly close. With Scary Monsters heightening his sense of smell, he could smell the light rose scent on her body, absolutely intoxicating. He felt his heart race faster as he glanced up at her long lashes, the feeling of his body betraying him was absolutely crushing.
He was Diego Brando, a god amongst men, someone determined to get the entire world under his foot and he was on his way to succumbing to a disease about love.
Love? No, it was impossible, he thought as Hot Pants held him closer.
-
When Diego first teamed up with Hot Pants, he expected a simple partnership. One where they wouldn’t acknowledge each other except for when they were going through their plans to kill President Valentine. Strictly business, you could call it.
So, when Hot Pants first insisted that they cook dinner together, Diego flat out ignored her.
“But, Diego, this is efficient,” She held out a mixing spoon which he pushed away, “Plus it will make for a bonding experience.”
Diego scoffed at her naivety, “Bonding? Look, we are just here to kill the President together. Who’s to say that I won’t kill you after I kill him just so that I could secure the corpse?”
He glanced over, noticing how neatly Hot Pants folded her hands in her lap. “Doesn’t mean we can’t share dinner.”
“Whatever. I’ll be by my things if you need me.” Diego sauntered over to his blanket, wrapping himself in it so Hot Pants couldn’t see him feign sleep.
With his dinosaur abilities, Diego could hear a few very light footsteps approach; was she actually planning on killing him or something? There was a light thud next to him and the striking aroma of stew filled his nose. Diego’s stomach grumbled in response.
Why was she being so kind to him?
He thought about all the other partners he had in his life, none of those partnerships ever amounting to more than just simply reaching a goal. With Hot Pants, she seemed determined to go further, to actually get to know him. It was weird to Diego to be put first like this.
He tried to ignore the stew, but eventually he found himself turning onto his side and reaching out for the bowl.
That’s when he first felt it, the seed of something new blossoming in his chest, the feeling foreign and off.
-
“Have you noticed the piles of pink cyclamens around our camp?” Hot Pants seemingly asked out of the blue one night.
Diego had his head in Hot Pants’ lap, a seemingly normal gesture between them as they grew closer. He shook his head at her statement, putting down his book and glancing up at her, “Cyclamens?”
“The flower,” Hot Pants said calmly, not noticing how Diego’s eyes widened at the mere mention of flowers, “I’ve noticed tiny piles of them recently, always around where we set up camp.”
Diego tried to ignore the burning in his chest, “We are in the middle of the wild, HP. There are bound to be random flowers around.”
“Hmm,” Hot Pants hummed, turning her attention back to repairing a tear in one of her sleeves, “Must be. Even though this flower is native to Europe, not America.”
“I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a botanist.” Diego taunted as Hot Pants glanced down at him, purple eyes glimmering and a small smile on her pink lips.
It wasn’t like Diego to lose his breath over a small gaze, but he swore she stole all the air in his lungs at that moment. His eyes widened, gaze unbreaking from her beauty. Sure, she wasn’t conventionally attractive but she was quite the goddess to Diego. How he wanted to reach up behind her head and force her lips down to his.
His heart raced just thinking about it.
And just as his lips parted in awe, he felt his chest radiate in pain. He sat up immediately, hand flying to his chest.
Hot Pants, startled, put her hand on his shoulder, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just have to take a walk,” He furrowed his eyebrows, attempting to ignore the way her simple touch burned through the sweater against his skin.
The look in her eyes proved she obviously wanted an explanation, but Diego couldn’t exactly explain it to himself, much less to her.
It’d be better if she never knew, he tried to convince himself.
-
Things only escalated when they were forced to share a hotel room.
He had opened the hotel room door only to realize that the room had one bed. And before he could ask whether or not this was another sick joke from the author of this chapter in his life, Hot Pants had already sat on the edge of the mattress, removing her shoes.
“Are you not forbidden from sharing a bed?” He asked, still waiting in the doorway, “What kind of nun are you?”
Hot Pants stared at him, “As long as you refrain from making a move on me, we should be fine,” She laid back onto the blankets, “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t slept side by side before.”
She was right, he hated to admit. There had been plenty of cold nights where they had shared a blanket. They had always attempted to keep their distance, but each time Diego had woken up deep in her embrace.
Maybe that's his problem; maybe she was the first person to ever consider him an equal, to hold him and treat him with respect. He had shared beds with plenty of women and even men too, but none of them held him in this certain regard. Of course, neither did Diego, but the fact that the first person to do so had also caused him to return the feeling sent his stomach into a flurry.
He was ready to accept his fate, to just die from the simple fact that the one person he ever loved did not feel the same way. It was either that, or he had to hold out hope that she might return his feelings before then.
However, his last option was to make himself fall out of love with her. Nothing short of impossible as shown by the way his heart beat faster just with one glance at Hot Pants. But, maybe if made her hate him first, it might make him fall out of love.
“Are you so naive to think that I wouldn’t force myself on you?” He asked, knowing very well that Hot Pants would be the last person he would do that to.
“No, I know you wouldn’t.”
Diego came closer, sitting on his own side of the mattress, “And why is that?”
“Because I trust you.” Hot Pants whispered back, looking at Diego expectantly.
She trusted him? He obviously trusted her back, but it was something he didn’t have the strength to admit to. There was a lot he couldn’t admit to, and was afraid he would never admit to, especially if he wanted to cure this cursed disease.
“You are naive, then.” He replied, immediately regretting his words as Hot Pants’ expression twisted into one of hurt. She turned onto her side, pulling the blanket up over her body.
“Good night, then.”
Diego woke up that morning to the feeling of pressure against his shoulder. He blinked a few times before he managed to focus on the head of pink hair that slept delicately against him.
His plan was never going to work, he lamented as he tucked a small piece of pink hair behind her ear.
-
Another pair of Valentine’s cronies. They attacked quickly, but it was never anything Diego couldn’t handle. He felt his Scary Monsters change him, giving him the ability to quickly swipe at the duo. They were quickly incapacitated, adding more fuel to the growing forest fire that is Diego’s ego.
“Diego! Behind you-”
He heard Hot Pants’ warning and managed to sidestep the third assailant. Not without injury, however, as Diego soon felt a deep radiating pain in his stomach.
Scary Monsters faded away as Diego crashed to the ground, blood pooling at his torso. His sweater was stained.
“You bastard!” He screamed in anger, readying his claws to return the favor.
Just as Diego felt his fingers twitch in anticipation, Hot Pants jumped up from behind the man, wrapping her arms around his neck to choke him.
“Creamstarter.” Was all she uttered in her deep voice before covering the man’s face in flesh.
Diego was slack jawed, staring at Hot Pants as she approached him, ignoring the suffocating man behind them.
“Let me heal you.” She motioned for him to pull his sweater up.
Diego did as he was told, having to stifle his gasp as her soft hands began to press at his skin. She was mere inches away from him, and after that scene, Diego could only want to kiss her.
“That was a deep one. Good thing I was near.”
He glanced down at his now nonexistent wound. The skin was pink. It would leave a scar.
“Hot Pants,” Diego dusted himself off, as she helped him back to his feet, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s what partners do.”
Ah, yes. Partners. Diego bit his lip to hide his growing disappointment. She helped him because it was her nature, not because she returned his feelings.
He felt a heat radiate behind his chest again, but for a different reason this time.
-
It was an unusually cold night, the type that sent Diego into Hot Pants’ arms. She always felt so warm, smelt so good, so how could he resist?
He curled into her embrace, hiding a smile by pressing his face into her chest.
It felt as close to heaven as Diego thought he would ever get to. So perfectly warm and peaceful, Diego could just drift off and-
Diego’s eyes snapped open. Where was the pain that usually blossomed behind his chest? Why wasn’t he retching painfully at the mere thought of Hot Pants? Something was off.
He felt Hot Pants’ hand entangle in his hair, giving him a soft caress. His heart sped up.
There was no pain in his chest.
He thought about kissing Hot Pants, smashing their lips together, taking her as his.
There were no flowers that forced themselves out of his body.
He sat up, interrupting Hot Pants’ ministrations.
“Something’s wrong.”
She frowned, “Is someone approaching?”
“No.”
Hot Pants tilted her head in confusion, pulling her hands away from his body, “Is it me? I can leave you alone-”
“No, no. There’s something that’s changed. About how you feel about me.”
“About you? You’re my partner-”
“You like me.”
Hot Pants’ eyes widened, giving her away immediately. She shook her head, but Diego was already smiling at her.
“No, we are just partners,” She repeated in a breathy tone, “Nothing more-”
Diego cut her off by placing a hand behind her head and guiding her lips to his. There was no resistance, just a surprised gasp as he kissed her.
He deepened the kiss almost immediately, not wanting to waste anymore time. Her lips were sweeter than honey, softer than any flower petal he’d ever felt.
Hot Pants pulled away, adjusting her hair. As her cheeks dusted with pink, she looked away.
“For the record, I like you, too.” Diego said breathlessly.
She blinked in disbelief.
“Tomorrow, we will finally catch up with Valentine,” Diego said, wrapping an arm around Hot Pants’s waist, “Afterwards, I’d like to start a future with you.”
“ Excuse me? ” She looked at him like he was crazy, “But we barely know each other.”
“Yes, but we were written in the stars, HP,” Diego glanced up at the shimmering night sky, “I never felt this way for anyone else in my life.”
Hot Pants sighed, “You’re delusional.”
“Remember those pink cyclamens we kept seeing scattered around camp?” He waited until Hot Pants nodded, “They were mine. As in, they came from my body.”
Thinking for a moment, Hot Pants’ face lit up in recognition, “Hanahaki Disease.”
“How do you know about that?”
“It was a famous tall tale I heard as a child. Well, I guess there’s some truth to it.”
“There’s relief in the cure.” He hummed, pressing his body against Hot Pants’ own. He would not succumb to a silly flower disease, after all.
Just as Diego finally allowed himself to relax and take a deep breath, Hot Pants interrupted his thoughts, “What will we do with the corpse?”
Not bothering to even open his eyes, Diego shook his head, “That’s a problem for tomorrow, HP.”
Tonight, all he wanted to do was relish in this relief, the sweetness of requited feelings.
-
Just one final battle, Hot Pants reminded herself. The end of her trial was finally near; soon Diego would kill the President and the two of them could finally claim the corpse for themselves. She would finally be absolved of her sins.
All she needed was a sign that Diego won, anything that could quiet her anxieties. Perhaps deep down she was more worried about his well being than winning this fight.
Hot Pants heard footsteps teaming behind her, heart pounding in anticipation. The steps could only belong to Diego, he was destined to win after all. She fully expected to face Diego when she turned around, but her heart dropped when she saw familiar blond curls and a pink suit.
Anything that came out of Valentine’s mouth was muffled by the ever increasing ringing in Hot Pants’ ears. She froze as per habit in life or death situations, tears welling in her eyes.
No, he couldn’t have lost….
She rushed to the window in a panic, swinging it open and leaning out to look for him. He had to be out there, there was just no way that she could accept that anything happened to him.
Her gaze followed along the path the train was slowly rolling away from. There, along the tracks, laid something similar to a body.
Hot Pants needed to do something. She couldn’t just stand here and succumb to Valentine, too. She needed to move, needed to help her partner.
Her hands shook as she grabbed the wooden window frame and launched herself out of it. She hit the ground harshly, knocking the wind out of her lungs and increasing the buzzing in her ears. Hopefully, Valentine wouldn’t follow her.
Ears ringing and body aching, Hot Pants made it to Diego, already ripping Creamstarter out of its holster. Her entire body turned cold when her gaze fell upon his body. Jaw dropping, Hot Pants felt her body shake in shock: he had been bisected at the waist.
Wilted flower petals pooled between his two halves, the once vibrant color quickly fading from each flower.
She fell to her knees at his top half, grabbing his chest and guiding his head to her lap.
His normally sparkling blue eyes were now dulled.
This had to be a dream. Just last night he had promised her a future.
She had to work fast and try to save him. There was still hope, after all.
“HP?” Diego’s lips moved slightly, eyes meeting hers. His hand wrapped around her wrist, bringing her own hand up to his face.
“Diego, what happened-”
“HP, I did it,” A faint smile appeared on his lips, “We won.”
Hot Pants nodded, her hand running along his cheek.
“I want you to come with me to Manhattan,” His voice grew quieter with each word he spoke, “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” Hot Pants choked out, hot tears blurring her vision, “I’ll go anywhere with you.”
After a few moments, she had finally managed to heal him, his torso patched together with a bright pink scar. This was the moment that Diego should have sat up and kissed her, thanking her for healing him once again.
Instead, his hand went limp, falling to his side. His eyes no longer glistened with that electric blue feverency that they once did. He was wilting like a dying flower before her.
Dropping Creamstarter, her panic finally settled in, “Diego, stay with me-”
Her shaking hand reached out to feel his pulse at his neck. She cried out when she felt no movement, no heartbeat.
“You’re supposed to be healed.”
She was too late.
She failed once again.
She never got to tell him how she actually felt about him. She never got to say those three words.
The floodgates broke and tears finally rushed down her cheeks. Each teardrop stained Diego’s teal sweater and Hot Pants realized in vain that their efforts had been for naught. She let out a choked breath, hands tightening around his sweater.
As she crumbled besides him, her breathing grew labored with each passing moment.
It wasn’t just her crying, Hot Pants quickly realized. She felt a growing pain in her chest, a radiating heat that managed to physically choke her.
She doubled over, managing to let out a string of painful coughs until she felt something in her mouth. Dread setting in, she shakily coughed into her hand.
In her palm sat a purple lilac flower.