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Minho is bent over the toilet seat when he hears the slamming of the front door that’s completely out of place considering Hyunjin hasn’t been home before 8PM in several weeks now. Wiping quickly at his mouth does little in comparison to the thorned piece of evidence inside the toilet, despite his immediate attempt at flushing it away.
It’s just too big.
He goes for plan B and closes the toilet lid to rest his forehead on it instead, and decides to just lie his way out of this one. No way is Hyunjin going to demand proof of Minho’s puked out guts that aren’t there. Minho thinks he’ll get a glass of water at best, probably not the other in his close proximity anytime soon. The fleeting touches and magnetic pulls against one another are distant memories now, compared to when they first moved into this apartment. These days, Minho feels more like a roommate than anything.
“You home?” Hyunjin calls from beyond the bathroom door, and Minho has half a mind to ignore him. What business does Hyunjin even have being home at three in the afternoon?
There’s some shuffling around in the hallway, and Minho figures he’d better just get this over with so he can go lie down in bed and force himself to sleep his misery away.
“In here,” he replies, less broken than he feared but definitely with a voice indicating that something is wrong. “Bathroom.”
“Oh,” he hears Hyunjin before the door swings open behind Minho where he’s kneeling on the tiled floor, forehead still against the toilet as he desperately swallows to smooth over the harsh pain serving as reminders all over his throat. “Hyung, what’s up? Are you sick?”
“Mm,” Minho replies, nodding weakly. “Stomach bug. Been here since lunch.”
“Poor thing,” Hyunjin murmurs, and Minho can barely hide his noise of surprise when Hyunjin crouches down next to him to put a hand on his shoulder in comfort. “Did you eat something bad? Do you want some water?”
Minho resorts to nodding once more as he feels his words fail him. It’s not that Hyunjin has been downright mean to him; not ever and not even in the past few weeks. He’s just been distant, physically and mentally, and part of Minho thinks that Hyunjin’s regular treatment of him feels more like necessity and routine than love. He almost wishes Hyunjin would be mean and ignorant instead, because that might make Minho fall out of love, too.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
“Don’t move, hyung,” Hyunjin tells him, “I’ll be right back.”
When the younger returns with a huge glass of icy water and a few pills of different kinds and proceeds to sit down opposite Minho so he can lift the glass to the other’s mouth, Minho blames the faint line of water trailing its way down his face on the lingering pain inside his throat, and not his heart.
***
The next time it happens is actually two weeks away, which is a longer period of time than Minho thinks has ever passed since the first red petals made their way up his throat around two months ago.
On the downside, it wakes him up seeing as it happens in the middle of the night. Which, consequently, also wakes the sleeping boy next to Minho, who seems almost as panicked as him at the horrible sound of someone choking.
It’s big, Minho thinks in a frenzy as the stupid thing completely shuts off his airway, fuck, that’s why it took so long this time. It’s been growing.
“What--?” Hyunjin starts, bleary and unfocused eyes huge on his face as he takes in the scene before him; the scene that consists of his boyfriend of three years with a pale face, blue-tinted lips, and fingers clawing at his own throat as if trying to rip it open and get whatever’s choking him out of the way. “Oh, my god. Hyung? Hyung--!”
Minho suddenly turns on his side, over the edge of the bed, and after a number of attempts to clear his throat; he finally succeeds. The sounds of the ordeal are like something straight out of a horror movie, and so is the blood painting Minho’s pale complexion once he slumps onto his back with heaving lungs.
When he feels like his body is no longer on fire, Minho opens his eyes.
Next to him on the bed sits Hyunjin, shell-shocked and terrified, and in his shaking hand lies what could be considered a small bouquet of dark red roses. Minho has never been so grateful of the mocking flower’s colour, which is now preventing Hyunjin from realizing just how much blood he must be holding simultaneously despite the light of the bed-side lamp he must have turned on.
Minho closes his eyes again. Somehow, the look in Hyunjin’s eyes has him more scared than his near death-experience just five minutes ago.
“Hyung,” Hyunjin chokes out. There is no doubt that the younger has put all the pieces together. “Minho, I… Minho. What…? How long has this… been happening?”
Carefully swallowing against the burning heat inside his throat, Minho wishes at least a small part of him could feel anything other than pain.
“Two months.” He tries out his voice and is, once again, surprised at how normal he sounds. Obviously no one had noticed earlier - not even Hyunjin that time in the bathroom - but Minho isn’t sure how he should feel about the fact that he’s literally dying and yet no one has been even close to noticing. “It’s been about two months since the first time.”
“What…?” Hyunjin starts again, but Minho’s heart aches - despite everything - at the confused fear that paints Hyunjin’s own voice. He’s all but whispering. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Faster than lightning, the reasons strike Minho. He’s been thinking about it, of course, because how could he not when he’s literally dying, but no one has asked him these things before and no one has witnessed him in this state before and Minho suddenly feels incredibly cornered. The stupid flowers stuck in his throat are nothing compared to how knocked out of breath he feels at the thought of having to spell all these things out to Hyunjin when Minho has barely been brave enough to face them himself.
Unwanted and useless tears make their way down the sides of his face before Minho can even sense their presence, and he rises to sit as he switches his grief for anger and his shock for bitterness. Emotions easier handled.
“Why didn’t I tell you?” he spits, compelled to look Hyunjin in the face as the feelings overcome him in a sudden and overwhelming rush, and he fists the sheets until his knuckles turn white. “Because, Hyunjin, I would rather die than beg you to love me again.”
Minho has his eyes locked on Hyunjin’s horrified ones, and starts channeling all of the rage he has barely begun to release and held onto for a rather long time. If he stops to think about it, the rage is more directed at the universe in general than Hyunjin specifically, but Hyunjin is the person directly involved and in front of him when it finally tips over.
“Because I would rather never be loved at all, than be loved out of pity, or obligation. Because I hate that look on your face that makes me feel weak and pathetic and reminds of what a fucking failure I am. I’d rather die, Hyunjin, than spend the rest of my life with you looking at me like you are right now. I would rather die within the next month or however long I have left, than live with the knowledge that I tried my fucking hardest and despite that I’m not good enough for you. That everything I have to give and offer and sacrifice is still not enough to keep you from falling out of love with me.”
When Minho struggles for breath after the ocean of repressed feelings, he’s torn between relief and a pain even more intense than whatever’s he’s been feeling until now. The exemption might be the first time it happened, and Minho slowly came to the devastating conclusion that Hyunjin didn’t love him anymore. That’s what Hanahaki is and what coughing flowers until they literally choke you to death means. That Minho’s new reality was death due to being unworthy of love anymore. That hurt. But so does putting everything on the table and witnessing first-hand how Hyunjin crumbles in front of him with shock and guilt and regret and settling devastation written all over him.
Hyunjin might not love Minho anymore, but Minho definitely loves Hyunjin. That has never been up for debate. And part of Minho’s decision to keep this from Hyunjin was undoubtedly to spare him every feeling that’s currently contributing to the drowning sensation Minho can read all over Hyunjin’s face.
Despite everything, Minho wonders if he could have prevented this. Maybe he would have made it to the bathroom. Maybe he could have stopped Hyunjin from turning the light on. Maybe he should have moved to the couch already, several weeks ago. Maybe--
“I don’t…,” Hyunjin chokes out, and looks as if he’s torn between running away and throwing himself at Minho. “I don’t understand, hyung, I don’t… What?”
“I have Hanahaki’s disease,” Minho states, gentler than he thought himself capable of at this moment. Not that different from the boy in front of him, he feels the urge to escape the scene of the crime while also tempted to pull Hyunjin into his arms. “I’ve had it for about two months. I have no idea how long the process is but it’s been getting steadily worse. This was the first time it happened in two weeks, and stupidly I thought it might be getting better. Clearly, I was wrong.”
“How do you… How do you know it isn’t? Getting better?”
Minho smiles sadly. “Because I’ve never seen anything that size before. It must have been growing even though I haven’t coughed anything up until tonight.”
Hyunjin is the picture of devastation less than three feet away from him, and Minho wishes he could hate him for doing this to Minho. He wishes he could blame Hyunjin for being blind to how much Minho has felt for him all this time. He wishes he could fall out of love with the boy he never should have met in the first place, because this wasn’t supposed to happen to them.
Fresh tears make their way down Hyunjin’s puffy face as the younger struggles to find the words. Minho knows this face as well as he knows the rest. He knows Hyunjin better than he knows himself.
“It’s okay,” Minho says even though it isn't. “It’s not your fault. It happens. I bet no one really sees it coming. It’s a disease, after all. People die of tumours discovered too late all the time. It’s not that different.”
Hyunjin stares at him, almost offended and in obvious disbelief at what he just heard.
“It’s okay,” Minho repeats, even though it isn’t any closer to the truth this time. “It’s okay.”
***
“Listen to me,” Hyunjin tells Minho three hours later, which they’ve mostly spent in silence staring at one another. “Sit down.”
Hyunjin got up at the ungodly hour of 05:22 after two hours in bed - staring - with the proclamation of needing some air to think properly. Minho figures the request wasn’t that strange seeing as how this all came as a complete shock to Hyunjin, while Minho has had at least a little time to consider the possible outcomes of this. Not that there really are any beside death, he’s fairly sure. Maybe there are cases of people falling back in love. Miracles happen and all that shit. But Minho doesn’t care, because he was telling Hyunjin the truth. He really would rather die than spend the rest of his life with someone who loved him out of fear of becoming a murderer if they didn’t anymore.
But he’s not dead yet, so he turns off the stove and sits down on the kitchen stool Hyunjin is pointing at. The younger is still standing, but Minho doesn’t point that out due to the suspicion that Hyunjin isn’t completely in his right mind yet.
“Listen to me,” Hyunjin repeats, unnecessarily because Minho is already directing his full attention at him. “We’re gonna figure this out right now. You’re not dying, Lee Minho. You’re 27 years old. People don’t fucking die at 27 years old. You’re at like, the first quarter of your life or something. I don’t know, I suck at math, you know that.”
“I do know that,” Minho replies while feeling a little miffed.
He genuinely thought Hyunjin would be out of his mind with guilt and crying relentlessly for at least a week and that they would fight about whose fault it is and who did what to whom and what-not. He most certainly did not expect Hyunjin to silently mull everything over while staring at him before abruptly leaving the apartment for almost an hour, only returning to order Minho around instead of tip-toeing around him out of fear.
He supposes people will keep surprising you, after all.
“You said this all started around two months ago, right?” Hyunjin asks, eyes staring straight into Minho’s as if that would suddenly make him healthy again.
“Right.”
“So when I started working longer hours? Around that time?”
Minho nods and looks at him in surprise. Hyunjin figured that out? So quickly?
“So you started having symptoms of Hanahaki’s when we started spending less time together and seeing less of each other. Is that right?” Hyunjin’s eyes are still locked on his, and Minho has never been interrogated by the police but he wonders if that would feel like this.
“Yes,” he replies truthfully, because that’s exactly what happened.
“Okay.”
As if satisfied by Minho’s confirmation, Hyunjin pulls a stool out for himself and sits down opposite of the older while leaning on his elbows. It doesn’t weaken Minho’s police investigation vibes.
“What do you know about Hanahaki’s?” is Hyunjin next question for him, quickly followed by a rush of others. “Have you done research? Do you know someone else who got it? Have you told anyone? Have you seen a doctor? What did they say?”
Minho blinks. “Uhm.”
Hyunjin stares at him expectantly.
“I’ve done a little research, but honestly it freaked me out so I stopped,” Minho starts explaining, and takes a sip of the tea he made earlier for his abused throat. He twirls the teaspoon with his fingers and watches it distractedly as he continues. “I haven’t told a soul. No doctor. And I don’t know anyone personally who has it. Or had it, I guess. I really just know what everyone else knows.”
“Which is…?” Hyunjin prods, but more cautious than firm.
Minho takes another sip before replying. “That Hanahaki’s disease means that a person starts growing flowers inside their lungs and usually coughs some out over the span of months, until the flowers have rooted and grown big enough to completely cut off that person’s airway, and they choke to death due to insufficient oxygen.”
They’re both silent for a moment after that, and Hyunjin’s face has fallen significantly when Minho has gathered the energy to face him again. He wonders what Hyunjin is thinking.
“The disease is caused,” Minho says quietly, “by unrequited love. It occurs when the person genuinely, romantically loves someone else and that person doesn’t feel the same way in return.”
Hyunjin’s features grow a little harder again at that, and if Minho was to guess he would say the younger was going into some kind of defensive or disagreeing mindset. Before Minho can say whatever he can come up with in response to that, however, Hyunjin speaks up.
“Is that the only reason?” he asks. It throws Minho off completely.
“I…,” he says, confusion written all over him. “Yes? I mean, I think so? It’s the only reason I’ve ever heard of. The internet didn’t state any other possible causes. Why are you asking that?”
“Because it can’t be true.”
Minho is the one staring, this time. He’s not sure if he should be offended or not, if Hyunjin is attempting to gaslight him into thinking it’s not Hyunjin’s fault when most people would say it definitely is, or if he should be offended that Hyunjin might think he’s stupid for not doing more research or if he should be offended because Hyunjin clearly doesn’t believe Minho’s answer to Hyunjin’s own question.
Maybe he shouldn’t be offended at all. Maybe he should be relieved that Hyunjin is trying to look at this from different angles and find a possible solution which Minho honestly hasn’t even tried to find. Maybe he should let the tiny spark of hope inside of him grow.
“What?” is what he settles for.
In front of him, Hyunjin swallows suddenly. Minho knows that expression (too). Hyunjin is nervous about something.
“You said the disease is caused by unrequited love,” Hyunjin murmurs, somewhat uncertain eyes darting between Minho’s, “but there has to be other possible causes as well. I haven’t stopped loving you, Minho hyung. If anything, I love you more now than I did two years ago. And I’ll tell you why I’m so sure there has to be another explanation.”
On his end of the table, Minho feels rather speechless. He had sort of prepared himself in the last two months for Hyunjin claiming to still love him despite Minho knowing that he couldn’t possibly because Minho is already on his way to an early grave, but actually hearing it from Hyunjin is something else entirely. He has no idea what to think.
When Hyunjin suddenly stands back up and walks over to where Minho is sitting, only to sink down on both of his knees in front of him, Minho’s heart all but stops in his chest.
“If you think you need to beg my forgiveness for something, then please, don’t,” he hurries to say, suddenly extremely uncomfortable with what seems to be happening. “Get up, Hyunjin. I don’t want or need apologies, I--”
“It’s not that,” Hyunjin interrupts, and Minho isn’t sure if the younger’s voice or fingers are shaking worse. He watches the younger, still on his knees, in faint horror. “I’m not… begging your forgiveness. Maybe I should, but that’s not… what this is.”
“What is it?” Minho can’t help but ask.
Slowly moving his hands from his lap and into the air towards Minho, the explanation to Hyunjin’s behavior falls into place bit by bit. He inhales sharply at the sight of the small box.
“You…--” Minho starts, but falls short immediately and only stares in shock instead.
Hyunjin inhales shakily, and exhales even more unsteadily.
“This is not how I pictured it in my head,” he starts, jittery, “and I think we’re both gonna want a do-over, in the future. So this is not the last proposal you’re gonna get, hyung, just so you know. This is the explanation I have as to why it can’t be unrequited love that’s making you sick. Because I love you so much that I can’t even begin to put it into words, and I started working longer hours in order to make more money in order to faster be able to get you the ring I’ve been eyeing for eight months. Because I decided that I didn’t want to wait anymore, when I’ve already been waiting so long. I was gonna propose on your birthday, you know? But the ring was too expensive and I just couldn’t settle for less, so I was gonna do it for this birthday, instead. But then I…”
Minho is barely breathing where he’s unable to look away from Hyunjin’s face and the black box he still hasn’t opened. “Then you what?”
“Remember that morning when your studio called and said there had been water leaks, and you couldn’t come in for the whole week?”
“Yes.”
“And then I blew off my project for the week and we went for that road trip and saw the ocean and ate all that food and slept under the stars?”
“Yes.”
“I decided that night,” Hyunjin tells him, and his voice is steadier as he relays this piece of information than it has been since their abrupt awakening some hours earlier. “With the stars shining on your face and the summer breeze swaying your hair. You smelled like the ocean and your skin tasted like home. I decided that night that I had to ask you to marry me as soon as I possibly could, and I was so aggravated when they told me I had to wait a month before more projects were available to pick up.”
Minho faintly senses his mouth falling open as he fully processes what Hyunjin is saying, and the shock slowly wears off by each word coming out of Hyunjin’s lovely mouth.
“I’ve never loved anything as intensely as I loved you in that moment,” Hyunjin stresses, as if Minho doesn’t believe him, “and I’ve never been more scared than when I woke up a few hours ago to learn all the things I’ve been blind to. That’s another story that we’ll get back to, but hyung--”
Hyunjin pauses to reach for one of Minho’s hands, and places the - still closed - box inside of it before encasing it with Minho’s fingers and then both of his own, holding Minho’s hand as if it was more precious than what Minho can only imagine is actually inside of the box.
“Minho,” he corrects, “you’re not sick because I have somehow stopped loving you these past months. I was literally going to propose this weekend. It must’ve happened because something changed between us, like me not paying enough attention or you doubting my feelings for you since I was away so much and couldn’t tell you why. Which was so fucking dumb, I should have just told you I was saving up for something else, I’m… It’s my fault. It’s all my fault. I know that. But not for the reasons you’ve been thinking, because I’m telling you, Lee Minho, that I love you. Not a day has passed by since I fell for you that I haven’t loved you. I love you when you make me coffee in the morning in the exact way that I prefer it, and I love you when you text me to check in or because you found a cute cat you want to show me, and I love you when you kiss the mole beneath my eye because you know how insecure I’ve been about it, and I love you when you endure dramas with me despite being uninterested because you know I get separation anxiety the minute you leave the room, and I love you when you look at me when you think I don’t notice, and I love you when you fall asleep and are always turned towards me as if making sure I’m still there, and I love you when you ask my opinion on some new choreo you’re trying out, and I love you when you take your time to kiss me because it makes me feel like there’s nothing more important in the world than the two of us, and I love you when--”
“Okay,” Minho finally interrupts, sniffling loudly, because if he hears one more word he will collapse onto the floor and probably pull Hyunjin with him on the way down. “I get it, Hyunjin, I… I get it. I was wrong. There has to be some other explanation. You… You still love me.”
“I love you,” Hyunjin confirms, still with a slightly desperate look in his eyes. Minho supposes that your boyfriend potentially dying might do that to you. “I’m clearly the worst boyfriend in the world when it comes to showing it, but I’ll… I’ll fix that. We can figure it out, Minho. If you promise to tell me about these things and how you’re doing and how you’re feeling, while I promise to be more caring and loving and open with you… We can figure it out, can’t we? And if that doesn’t work, then we’ll get a doctor. Someone who’s actually educated on this. No one is dying, Minho. I’m not… Do you hear me? You’re not dying, you’re not…-- I can’t--”
Slipping from the stool and down on the floor with Hyunjin, Minho finally throws his arms around the younger and holds him through the sobs that he must have pushed aside from earlier. When Hyunjin’s arms circle his own midriff and tighten notably, Minho gives in, too.
***
They fall asleep from exhaustion not even two hours later, and when Minho wakes up there’s an unmistakable tickle in his throat. He’s already halfway to the bathroom when he remembers his promise, and doubles back to shake Hyunjin awake with a hand over his mouth before gesturing to the bathroom.
He’s barely on his knees before the toilet when Hyunjin catches up with him and holds his hair aside to let Minho cough up his insides. It’s strange and unfamiliar, and Minho doesn’t really want to share this experience with anyone if he’s being honest. But it’s not about that, probably, and Minho does find comfort in the familiar palm at the small of his back.
He coughs and coughs and coughs, and it’s really not much like vomiting at all. At least not until the first petal reaches his mouth and Minho spits it out. When the second comes, the third is right behind, and the fourth right behind that, and before Minho knows it he’s struggling to keep up with them and not choke on them as they stuff his throat. It hurts way less than last time, so he supposes that that’s something.
“I’m sorry,” he suddenly hears Hyunjin murmur close to his left shoulder. “You’re doing so well, hyung, it’s almost over. It’s almost over.”
Minho knows that neither of them actually knows if it’s over soon or not, but he’s not about to start arguing when he can barely breathe. Just Hyunjin’s voice is kind of soothing, regardless of the words he speaks.
Once the sea of flowers seems to have left Minho’s insides for the bottom of the toilet bowl, he recovers for a total of four seconds in which Hyunjin presses a small kiss to his shoulder. Then, Minho all but throws himself over the bowl as he feels the real challenge about to start.
“Hyunjin,” he mumbles, for no actual reason other than that he can, for the first time since this started happening to him. “Hyunjinnie.”
“I’m here, hyung,” Hyunjin is quick to reply, and rests his entire arm over Minho’s shoulders to keep the older closer to him. It’s kind of nice, Minho hastily thinks between drops of sweat on his forehead and something big reaching into his throat from the absolute wrong direction.
It’s not long until the pain starts as whatever enormous monstrosity inside of Minho is attempting to dig its way out through a windpipe that is not designed to hold such things. It hurts and the process is so fucking slow and the stupid flower ass thing seems intent on scraping against every inch of Minho’s throat, circling round and round and round while barely making any progress upwards. It’s bloodcurdling and morbid and something taken straight out of a nightmare.
Minho despises whatever god put this disease on their planet.
“You’re okay,” Hyunjin murmurs into his hair, but there’s slightly less comfort and slightly more uncertainty in it now. Minho can’t blame him. “You’re gonna be okay, hyung, it’s almost over. As soon as this is out, it’ll be over. I promise. I love you so much, Minho, and I promise; you’re gonna be okay.”
Stupidly and in direct contradiction to everything that’s happened so far; Minho believes him.
Then, the whatever-is-it reaches another inch upwards until it’s around halfway out Minho’s throat. When Minho leans his head carefully sideways, he finds a small channel of air to breathe through as the stupid thing takes its fucking time.
“Hurts,” he whispers almost subconsciously, because he can’t really focus on anything else. It hurts so fucking bad and Minho just wants it to stop.
Right now, he wants it to stop. If he had a knife nearby, he’d be tempted to stick it through his heart just for this to end. The thorns and the edges and the length of it all contributes to the numbing pain that Minho has been drowning in for minutes now, since coughing doesn’t help one bit in getting this thing out.
It strikes him that maybe, just maybe, this is it.
Maybe this is the final time; the one that will finally put an end to his struggle. Maybe this thing won’t ever leave his throat and instead rise and rise until it’s blocking Minho’s entire throat and mouth and it’ll probably even show through his lips once he’s all choked up and suffocated. Maybe Hyunjin will even get to witness it; how fucking great would that be?
The misery finally gets to him, and Minho doesn’t care about holding his tears back anymore. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters beside getting this stupid thing out of his body, and Minho can’t help but put a hand to his throat and push and squeeze in an attempt to get it out. He screams when the action only digs the thorns deeper into his flesh.
“Minho,” he suddenly hears from somewhere around him, Minho barely knows with his closed and teary eyes, “Minho, it’s almost out, I swear, just hold on a little longer. You can do it, baby, I promise. Squeeze my hand as tight as you have to, alright? I’m right here.”
Vaguely, Minho thinks that it sounds like he’s giving birth or something. Then he thinks that, yeah, maybe the feelings of helplessness aren’t that different from a spectator’s point of view. Minho wouldn’t know.
He physically can’t reply with the whatever-it-is almost all the way up his throat now, but he holds his hand out anyway for Hyunjin to take. Hyunjin’s hand is almost as sweaty as Minho’s own, and he half-expects a sound of pain when he grabs Hyunjin’s hand as hard as he needs to. There’s nothing, though, besides Minho’s own attempts at panting and coughing the disgusting thing out, because he knows that it’s left his lungs now as the pressure has released from there and spread to his throat alone.
Of course, he still can’t fucking breathe properly, so Minho steeles himself for how much this is gonna hurt before leaning his entire torso over the toilet seat until his head is practically upside-down. He squeezes Hyunjin’s hand as hard as he fucking can, while holding onto the porcelain with his other one. Then Minho uses every muscle in his body to just push it out, dammit, coughing and tensing until his throat has no choice but to convulse until the damn thing is far enough for Minho’s reach.
He gags - inevitably - and multiple times as well, but he’s single-mindedly focused on getting it out and when he finally, finally grasps the unforgiving material between two of his fingers, Minho pulls as hard as he can despite the pain he knows comes along with it. He barely senses how it leaves his throat and airway free, draws a proper breath and coughs, tastes his own blood for a moment and then immediately passes out from the pain.
***
When Minho wakes up, he knows instinctively that something is wrong.
He rubs quickly at his eyes as he looks around the bedroom he has somehow entered, but Hyunjin is nowhere in sight. Which freaks Minho out a little, to be completely honest, and he gets out of bed only to head straight for the rest of the apartment to find out exactly where Hyunjin is.
It doesn’t take long for Minho to spot his boyfriend leaning over the kitchen sink, face in his hands as his body shakes unnaturally. In the blink of an eye, Minho crosses the final steps until he reaches the younger.
Before he gets the chance to say anything, Hyunjin twitches at the touch and turns to stare at him with bloodshot eyes. He looks like a mess, but there’s no mistaking the relief in his eyes when he sees Minho.
“Oh, my god,” Hyunjin chokes out. “You’re awake. You’re okay? You’re really okay?”
“I think so,” Minho replies, and immediately makes a face at just how badly speaking seemingly hurts.
“Alright, no talking,” Hyunjin catches on quickly. “That’s no surprise, considering… Well, considering. Can we please go see a doctor? I’m about to lose my mind. Did you see how massive that thing was? I really think we should go see a professional, because that… Hyung.”
Unable to deny Hyunjin after everything, Minho nods despite the impending terror of possibly finding out that the next time will be worse, and maybe even the last time. But if his throat is so damaged that Minho can’t speak… That’s not really a scenario he’s looking forward to, either. So he lets Hyunjin make the call, explain what happened about an hour ago, and confirm that they can, in fact, come in within the hour. It has Minho’s nerves spike through the roof, but he’s not about to back out now. Especially not if there’s an actual chance that he’s fallen sick due to some unknown circumstances that has even the slightest possibility of changing the outcome to this.
***
Minho closes the door to the apartment behind him some time later, and leans against it as he stares at its insides with a completely different set of eyes than the past few months.
He’s not dying anymore.
“Hyung,” Hyunjin calls from the kitchen where he’s already shuffling around while making all of the things the doctor suggested for Minho’s wounded throat. “After you’ve taken the medication and some water, can we… Can we go lie down?”
He appears around the corner, one glass in each hand, and a tired but happy expression on his face. “I just really need to hold you for a bit. Is that okay?”
Smiling, Minho nods in acquaintance.
He’s not dying anymore.
“I can’t believe I was right,” Hyunjin says for the fifth time already, and Minho glares at him teasingly since he very well can’t reply verbally. Doctor’s orders. “How come Hanahaki’s is such a ‘famous’ disease, and yet, nobody seems to know that it can originate from other causes than genuinely unrequited love. The doctor seemed so aggravated on the topic, and I don’t blame her. People’s lives might have been spared if there were more fact-checked knowledge online and less rumours and pop-lit stories spreading. I was only guessing myself! I can’t believe she confirmed that there are actual cases like ours, where both people actually do love each other and one just seriously starts doubting whether the other still does, and that doubt can grow so strong that Hanahaki’s can appear. I mean it’s still…”
He trails off as he catches Minho’s meaningful glance at him, and obediently sits down on the edge of the bed where Minho pats the covers for him to sit his ass down and breathe.
“I’m sorry,” Hyunjin says, a little crestfallen, and steers the one-sided conversation into another direction. “I don't mean to downplay anything. None of this should have happened in the first place either way and it’s nothing short of awful. I’m sorry, hyung, I know that it’s my fault. I just wish we would have talked sooner and gotten you help faster, to lessen some of the pain. I really, really wish it never had to come to this, but I’m also grateful that it turned out to be fixable. I barely know what I’m saying, sorry. I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”
Minho bites his own lips to keep from speaking up, which he really didn’t think would be this hard. Fingers crossed it’s just a few days, as the doctor had initially estimated after taking a look at the inside of Minho’s throat. It seems these things can heal pretty fast, if he’s to believe the kind woman they’d met - which he’s definitely inclined to. The absolute certainty in her voice when she showed them the evidence of fully healthy lungs with zero petals, thorns or even roots left inside had brought such relief that Minho isn't sure that he's fully processed it yet.
(He's not dying anymore.)
So instead of replying verbally, Minho raises his own finger to place it on Hyunjin’s lips. He’s honestly not interested in having Hyunjin apologize for the rest of the night (or year), even though he appreciates the sentiment. Truthfully, Minho feels like he should be the one apologizing to Hyunjin. He’s the one who started doubting Hyunjin’s feelings, despite them clearly being present. Minho is more responsible for his own sickness than anyone else, in his opinion. How was Hyunjin even supposed to know? If Minho had had it his way, he actually might have died because of a messed up misunderstanding that he didn’t have the guts to bring up to his boyfriend.
So no, he’s not interested in Hyunjin’s apologies. Especially not when he can’t return them.
‘I love you’, he mouths instead, and watches Hyunjin’s face soften and fall into a familiar smile. So he does it again, until he has Hyunjin laughing at the silliness of how Minho must look. ‘I love you, I love you, I love you’.
“I love you, too,” Hyunjin promises, and gives Minho the warning of a hand cupping his face gently before leaning in and sealing his words with a firm kiss.
When he breaks it a moment later, he fixes Minho’s eyes with a gaze even firmer than the previous kiss.
“I’m always gonna love you, Lee Minho,” Hyunjin tells him, “so this better not happen again. Got it? I will love you until you’re suffocating on my affection and nothing else. Watch me.”