Chapter Text
It was Sunny that had introduced Basil to manga. The occasion wasn’t anything special. It was another of Basil’s visits to him in his new apartment, something that brought a little familiarity to his new home in the city. After lunch they had gone to a park nearby the complex, and together they sat on a bench as the leaves of the trees slowly turned into their fall colors.
“Sunny,” Basil had started. “We’ve talked a lot about the last few years, about everything that happened.”
Basil twiddled with his fingers.
“And I’m glad we did, even when we didn’t want to. It’s good we were able to-” Basil searched for the word. “-able to discuss everything and get it out in the open. Good for both of us, you know?”
Sunny nodded. “Yep.”
Basil leaned forward on the bench. “And I know you don’t like to talk about it, but it’s just-” Basil interrupted himself. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”
Sunny glanced over at him. Basil looked back.
“So you stayed inside that house for four whole years, right?”
Sunny paused, doing the mental math in his head. “Yeah.”
Basil’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he asked his question. “What did you do all that time?”
Sunny tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“Like,” Basil paused, “for fun?”
Sunny thought for a moment, turning his head up towards the reddened leaves of the oak in front of them. A wistful look came to his eye.
“Slept, mostly.”
Basil laughed. “You what?”
“I slept,” he repeated.
“What do you mean you slept? Everybody sleeps.”
“Yeah,” replied Sunny. “I just did more of it.”
Basil looked off to the side. “I mean, I guess it makes sense. What else are you going to do?” He turned back to Sunny. “What you’d do when you were awake, though?”
Sunny thought. “Well, there was this blackjack game on the computer in my room.”
There was a lull in the conversation.
“That’s it? You slept and played computer blackjack?”
“I had some cool dreams, Basil,” he explained.
“I feel like you’re avoiding the question, Sunny.”
“I mean it,” Sunny insisted. “I dreamed, daydreamed, and played blackjack.”
“Can you at least tell me what you dreamed about, then?” Asked Basil.
“All kinds of things,” remarked Sunny. “There was the time I dreamt you were made of melon.”
Basil laughed through a grin. “Dreamt I was made of what?”
“Melon. Watermelon, specifically.” Sunny continued. “We were in this big open field, and it was pitch black. You’d somehow managed to grow all these watermelons everywhere, and I was smashing them.”
Basil snickered. “Sunny!” He said, in mock anger. “Why were you breaking all my watermelons?”
The laughter spread to Sunny. “I was looking for the key, alright?”
“Okay.” Basil leaned back against the bench. “Then what happened?”
“Then I,” Sunny stopped, the smile fading from his face. He tripped over his words. “I- I don’t want to talk about it.”
An awkward silence followed, and a gentle wind rustled the leaves of the trees, sending some of them tumbling down to earth as squirrels gathered acorns below. Finally, Basil picked things back up.
“So what else did you do?”
“That’s pretty much it.”
“Come on, Sunny!” Egged Basil. “There has to be more! Didn’t you at least have some CDs or books or something?”
“Well,” dragged Sunny. “I did read some manga.”
Such was the seed that grew into Basil’s manga obsession. After Sunny finished explaining what manga was, they went inside and Sunny showed him his collection. He let Basil borrow some of his volumes, which he promptly read and returned next visit. He borrowed more again, and soon was going by Hobbeez to pick up some manga of his own. When word got back to his parents (via Polly) about his new interest, they made sure to load him up on manga first that Christmas and again a couple months later on his birthday. Not wanting to waste the gift, he dove right in, and the obsession deepened. By the end of March, he was at severe risk of succumbing to manga-fueled brainrot and turning into a weeb.
Polly discussed this, among other things, with the girls over coffee at the local cafe.
“Polly,” said Courtney. “I gotta say, I’m a little jealous.”
Polly sipped on her ice coffee.
“You have to have the cushiest job ever,” she continued. “They pay you that much and all you have to do is live there, keep the house cleaned up, and take care of some kid? And he’s, what, sixteen?”
“Well, seventeen,” replied Polly, “but yeah.”
“So he basically takes care of himself! How’d you-”
Emma interrupted, eyes still fixed on her phone. “Didn’t he stab someone’s eye out?”
“He what!” Courtney looked at Polly with wide eyes. “You didn’t tell me the kid was a psycho!”
“It’s not like that!” Polly denied. “Well, he did stab someone’s eye out, but he’s doing a lot better now.”
Courtney pointed her finger at her. Her other hand held an espresso. “He could kill you, Polly!”
She laughed. “Don’t be like that Courtney! Basil’s a good kid; he wouldn’t hurt anybody.”
“Tell that to the other kid,” Emma interjected. An empty cup sat on the counter beside her.
“Okay, but that was just once.” Polly admitted. “I mean it when I say he’s a good kid, though. It’s just that sometimes he can get a little-”
“Murderous?”
“Psychotic?”
Polly shook her head. “I think neurotic is more accurate, but we’re getting him the help he needs and he’s improved a lot. He’s even made up with the other kid.”
Courtney narrowed her eyes. “The one he stabbed?”
Emma sighed. “Typical guys.” She looked up from her phone. “They get along just fine right up until they stab each other, and then they make up just as quickly.” She looked back down. “I’ll never understand it.”
“He’s visited him a couple times since them,” Polly continued. “Sunny’s his name. They get along great now. He even lent Basil some of those manga comics. Basil’s been reading them a bunch.”
“So that’s it,” commented Emma. “He’s playing the long game: get him reading these comics and going down that rabbit-hole so that by the time he’s twenty he’ll be totally-”
“Can we talk about something other than the stabby kid?” Courtney spat. “I found out about this cooking course the other day, and I want you guys to take it with me.”
She pulled the pamphlet from her purse. A heavy-set chef had his arms crossed on the front. He held a massive cleaver in his right hand and a dour expression on his face.
“They meet every Saturday for a few hours. It’s an eight week course.” Courtney looked between them. “Come on guys, it’ll be fun!”
“I don’t know,” said Polly. “It looks kinda intense.”
“It’s just a cooking class,” she replied. “Besides, it wouldn’t hurt you to mix up your cooking a bit, Polly.”
“Hey!”
Courtney smiled. “I’m just saying it as a friend, okay?”
“I’ve only ever seen you cook, like, three different things,” added Emma.
Polly’s face was red. “That’s three more things then I’ve seen you make!”
“That’s because I refuse to cook,” said Emma. “Simple as.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter,” said Courtney. “You guys need to get out more, okay? Polly, when’s the last time you left that house other than to run errands?”
“Let’s see, it was-”
“And Emma, since you started working from home when was the last time you left your apartment at all?”
Emma paused. “I’m out now, aren’t I?”
It took a little persuading and a couple more rounds of fancy coffees, but eventually Courtney convinced the two of them to take the class.
At Hobbeez, Pedro made a very disappointing phone call.
“Ah, I see. You already-”
He’d ordered in an expensive manga box set for a customer, and after several weeks it was finally due to arrive tomorrow.
“No, no, that’s fine. I understand.”
The Color of Flowers. Hard back, translated, full color, complete with poster and other promotional materials. It was the whole bit.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around.”
And now when he called to say that it was going to be in, his customer told him that he had already bought it online.
“Bye.” Pedro hung up. The landline made a satisfying smack as he did.
He couldn’t blame him, really. It was only supposed to take twelve weeks to show up originally, but that had managed to turn into twenty-four somehow. Now, though, he was out the money. That was at least partially his fault. He didn’t take payment upfront, and that was the number one rule of sales: Always get the money.
He was going to be stuck with it now, just like all those used betamax tapes sitting unloved in the backroom. The retail on this set was more than any sensible person would ever pay. Only a fanatic would drop that kind of cash on something like this. There were only a handful of people he knew who would even consider buying it, and one of them was the one that had just canceled! He thought. There was that one blonde-headed kid that’s been coming in here, buying a bunch of manga. He looked up as a familiar figure approached the door. Was that-
The bell on the door jingled as Basil walked in.
“Hey!” Greeted Pedro. “If it isn’t my favorite customer?” Number two rule of sales: Lie, but only a little bit.
Basil smiled. “Really?”
“But of course,” he replied. “Help you find anything today?”
“Oh, I’m just browsing,” said Basil. He stepped over to the manga display, which showed off several different volumes.
“Manga, eh?” Remarked the shopkeep. “I don’t have a whole lot on the shelf today, but if you can wait until tomorrow I think I’ll have something real special come in that you’d like.”
Basil picked a volume off the display. He turned towards Pedro as he thumbed through the black and white pages. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes, definitely! It’s a classic tale of requited love.”
“You mean unrequited?” Basil set the volume back on the shelf.
“Something like that.” He peeked down at his phone, glancing at the synopsis. “There’s this girl, and she falls in love with this gardener.”
Basil turned his head. “Yeah?”
Pedro looked back up. “She sees him, and it’s love at first sight, but there’s just one problem!”
Basil stepped back over to the counter, and the shopkeep smiled.
“He doesn’t see her! In fact, he doesn’t even know she exists.”
“He doesn’t?” Basil set both hands on the counter.
Pedro laid it on thick. “No, he doesn’t! She sees his beautiful garden from the view of her apartment, and just from that she falls madly in love. She’s nervous, though, and has no idea how to contact him. She’s the shy type, you see.”
“Then what?” He asked.
The shopkeep continued. “She finally comes up with a plan to meet him, but then something horrible happens! She-” Pedro stopped himself.
“She what?” Basil badgered.
“She-Ah, I can’t say more. I’d spoil it.”
“Come on Pedro,” Basil pleaded. “Not even a little more?”
“No, nope, nope.” He crossed his arms. “I refuse to spoil this all-time great manga for my favorite customer. You’ll just have to wait until tomorrow when I get it in.”
“What time do you think you’ll have it in by?” Basil asked.
“I should have it not long after we open Saturday. Maybe by ten in the morning? I’ll set it aside for you, if you want.” He paused, then spoke dismissively. “Only if you want, of course. I wouldn’t want-”
“I’ll be here right away!”
“Good, good.” Said Pedro. “See you tomorrow, then?”
“Yes!” Basil left. “Goodbye, Pedro!”
Pedro thought to himself. Too easy. What was that kid’s name again?
Chef Bonzo slammed down the cleaver on the cutting board, getting the murmuring class’s attention. He picked it back up, gesturing with the tool as he spoke.
“Alright! Now the first thing you all need to know about cooking is that good food involves ALL the senses: not just taste.”
Polly watched quietly with the rest of the class. Her friends hadn’t made it, at least not yet. Courtney tended to be perpetually late and Emma was unfortunately an often no-show.
He continued. “You got to have taste, of course, but there’s still smell, feel-” He emphasized each sense as he spoke. “-sound, and sight!” The chef cocked his head. “Let’s talk about that last one there for a bit.” He waved the cleaver in his hand, and Polly wondered how she managed to get talked into this.
“Sight is very important!” He emphasized every other syllable, waving the cleaver each time as he did. “After all, when people see something they want to eat, they say ‘looks good’, don’t they?” Finally he set the cleaver down, letting out some of the tension in the room. “I mean, just look at this fish here.”
Polly, along with the rest of the class, looked at the fish on the cutting board. The initial blow of the cleaver that had gotten their attention had also removed the fish’s head. “Doesn’t this fish already look more appetizing than it did when it’s head was still attached? It’s not looking at us anymore, shaming us with it’s beady gaze.” He gestured towards the fish, illustrating his point. “No more of that. See, it looks better, and we haven’t even started cooking it yet! That’s the power of presentation.”
It was hard to say how many people were convinced by this line of reasoning, but nobody challenged Chef Bonzo on it.
“Now I know what you’re thinking,” he said as he casually picked up the cleaver again. He spoke in a half-mocking tone. “‘Ah, but what if just I’m making a sandwich or something? It don’t matter, I’m just gonna eat it!’” He slammed the blade on the cutting board again, this time removing the fish’s tail. “Wrong! You have to have pride in your work. It doesn’t matter what it is!”
The chef held the class’s attention rapt.
“So even if it is just a sandwich, give it some pizzazz! Stick a toothpick in it. Cut it into triangles or something. Have a little garnish on the side. Be creative with it! Anything you can do to make it more-” He waved a hand as he looked for the word. “-more visually interesting.”
Hmm, thought Polly. A sandwich with pizzazz.
Had Basil stopped and looked on the kitchen table that Saturday morning, he would have found a note from Polly reminding him that she was having a day out with the girls, starting with a cooking class, then lunch, and maybe a movie. Basil had remembered this, though, so he didn’t bother to look for a note that morning when Polly wasn’t there. After all, he had more important things on his mind. Unfortunately, this meant that he didn’t see the pair of muffins Polly had left for him for breakfast, as they were on a plate beside the note. No, shortly after getting dressed Basil ran past all of that on his way out the door and to Hobbeez.
Basil slowed himself down as he came to Hobbeez and tried to catch his breathe before he went inside. He didn’t want them thinking he was some kind of psycho or something, running around town like a maniac. Still breathing heavily, he stepped inside.
“Heeey!” Greeted Pedro. “I know what you’re after!” He reached under the counter, bringing out the set.
Basil gazed on it: The Color of Flowers. It was a massive twelve volume collection. The artwork on the spines lined up to make one image of a beautiful garden. It promised a heart-rending tale of missed connections and ill-fated reunions. The beautiful manga girl on the side of the box even seemed to look straight at him, inviting him in.
The shopkeep said it was some amount of money, and Basil pulled the cash out of his wallet and covered it. That part didn’t matter, though. What mattered now is that the box set was his.
“I can’t believe he threw a baguette at me!” Courtney said afterwards.
Polly laughed. “I guess you shouldn’t have been late.”
“I think that guy’s a psycho,” she continued. “There was a knife right by the baguette. He could have impaled me if he wasn’t careful.”
“You say that about everybody,” said Emma, who they had tracked down after the class.
“So what?” Defended Courtney. “That just means I have a lot of psychos in my life.”
The manga set sat beside him on the end table of the couch, and Basil gingerly took out the first volume. He sat up on the sofa and opened it with great anticipation.
The story began with a wide shot of the woman looking out from her balcony. She sees a gardener the distance. She watches intently as he works, growing wax poetical about the nature of gardening. As quickly as she first caught sight of him, he soon disappears inside his home. Suddenly, she coughs. Surely it’s nothing.
His stomach rumbled, and he briefly glanced over at the kitchen to consider grabbing something to eat. He’d just started, though! He could eat later. Basil turned the page and read.
It wasn’t nothing. Believe or it, it was a whole frigging flower growing inside her! It was volume two by the time Basil found that out, and he could hardly believe it. A whole flower, growing inside of somebody? That’s crazy! How is supposed to get sunshine? Still, he read on, with a neat pile of finished volumes growing beside the slowly emptying box set.
“I, I planted these for you.”
The gardener shows up on her doorstep, the morning of the surgery.
A bit late now, thought Basil.
“But, today’s the surgery! After that, I won’t-”
“I know, but I wanted you to have something to remember me by.”
The gardener pulls out a multi-color bouquet of zinnias.
Basil’s hand gripped the pages, his thumb threatening to tear them. That bastard! How could he be so cruel? Why couldn’t he have seen what was right in front of him? Instead he played his games and hid away, but now he taunts her one last time. It stirred at Basil’s heart. Why couldn’t he just decide whether or not to stay in her life and be done! And yet, this was supposed to be romantic. Despite everything, he really did love her, didn’t he? He laid the book aside on the couch, and the drama weighed on his mind. Ten of its brothers were stacked on the end table; only one unread volume remained in the box. He laid back and looked over at the stack. Maybe that was enough manga for now.
Wasn’t there something he was suppose to do today? What was that? He picked the manga back up, and looked down at the bouquet again. Hmm, zinnias. Basil sat straight up. Wait a minute. He ran to his his room and rifled though his bookshelf until he found the title he was looking for: Farmer’s Almanac for the Current Year. He thumbed through the pages, scanning for the reference. Ah, there it was: zinnias. For best results this year, plant on April 4th, 5th, 8th, or 12th.
His eyes shot over the calendar. That’s it! To think he almost forgot! Today was the twelfth: the last day to plant. He jumped over to the window and looked outside. The sun hung low in the sky, but it wasn’t too late!
His stomach intensified its earlier complaint, but there wasn’t any time for that now. He rushed out to his tool shed, grabbed his seeds and hoe, and struck the earth.
Polly drove herself home. It had been a good day. Sure, things hadn’t gone quite according to plan. There was that incident with Courtney and the chef, of course, and Emma had nearly gotten them kicked out of the theater, though in all fairness those guy did have it coming.
The rom-com was good, if a little by the book. They did tend to get a little frustrating at times; at one point she had to stop herself from shouting at the screen for the pair to just shut and kiss already. Why couldn’t these people ever just talk things out? If they did, they could figure out that they loved each other in three minutes tops and been done. Of course, there wouldn’t be a movie then, and the studios have to sell tickets somehow if they’re going to stay in business.
Anyway, it was a good day, then she got home. As she pulled in, she noticed Basil hacking away wildly at the dirt behind the house with a hoe. She hated to it admit it, but he did look a twinge psychotic the way he swung that thing. Still, it was good that he had hobbies, even if he could get a touch obsessive with them. There were much worse things he could obsess over, she knew. She brought the car to a stop and went inside. The manga was scattered between the couch and the end-table, one volume left half open. It looked like it had been abandoned in a rush. She smiled as she rolled her eyes. Was there any understanding what went on in the mind of that kid?
Then Polly saw the plate on the table, with its two untouched muffins. Her heart sank a little. Were they really that bad? She knew her cooking might not have been the best, but that bad? She grabbed one and munched on it. It was an unremarkable stale banana nut muffin. So, he’d rather go without than eat these? She took another bite. The day of sitting on the table had taken its toll on the baked goods, drying it out, but she didn’t have the heart to throw them away. They tasted like failure.
Suddenly, she perked up. Why not cook something now? She could apply what she’d learned from the chef. She went over to the cupboard, which ran low. There was a loaf of bread, as well as various condiments and canned goods. It wasn’t much to work with, but she thought back to Chef Bonzo’s words:
Even if it is just a sandwich, give it some pizzazz!
There, she could make sandwiches! There was some deli meat in the fridge she could dip into, as well as cheese and other sandwich making goods. This was ample material for sandwich-making. In fact, she could do more than just make a sandwich. She could make the greatest sandwich ever!
Meticulously, Polly toasted the bread, applied the spread, layered the layers of meat, cheese, vegetables, and etc. Each ingredient was carefully analyzed and applied. Nothing was left to chance, and soon it was done: a perfect pair of sandwiches, as far as she could tell. She set them on a pair of plates and placed them on the table, then inspected her work.
Polly kneeled down and faced the food at eye level. The bread was crisp, the meat, fresh, the veggies, cool, and the cheese, cheesy. Yet, something was missing. She could sense it, though she wasn’t quite sure what it was.
Have a little garnish on the side!
Ah! That’s what it was. It needed a garnish of some kind, but what? It needed to be something fresh and colorful to make the dish really pop, but the pantry had nothing to offer and the fridge was nearly empty. (Grocery day was Sunday, which was tomorrow). She turned around. What else was there around the house? Her eyes darted around, noticing the various houseplants.
Hmmm. Maybe….
Basil’s breath calmed as he covered up the last seeds. There, it was finally done. He stood up, and felt woozy as the initial rush of gardening energy wore off. His stomach was pained, and everything seemed so…fuzzy. He steadied himself with his hoe. As much gardening as he did, he really ought to get himself one of those gas-powered tillers. He should have asked for one for his birthday. His parents wouldn’t have blinked at the expense, but he always hates asking for things like that. He doesn’t want them to think he only goes to them when he needs something. When had he last talked to them anyway? That was a depressing thought. What was he doing again?
His stomach rumbled. God, he could really use something to eat right now. When had he last ate? Did he skip breakfast this morning? He could go for one of Polly’s muffins right now, or a sandwich, or something, anything! Carefully, he pushed himself off his hoe. He squinted. The sun seemed so bright today. In a haze, he stumbled towards the house. He dropped the hoe on the ground as he made the final steps to the door.
It opened. “Basil, dinner’s read-” She called. “Oh, there you are.” Wearily, he stood in front of her.
“Come on in,” she invited. “I made us some sandwiches.”
Weakly, he followed. She said something, but he didn’t quite catch it. He took his seat and glanced down.
There he saw it. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen: an absolutely impeccable sandwich. It was almost too perfect, like a mirage. His vision was still a little faded. He blinked, shook his head, then blinked again. Maybe the hunger had got to him, or maybe he’d finally succumbed to madness, but the impossibly perfect sandwich remained. He didn’t dare to eat it, but he had to eat it! He was so hungry, and that’s what sandwiches were for. Basil carefully picked up the creation, and the rest followed naturally. The ingredients blended together and complemented each other perfectly, and as soon as the sandwich had come into Basil’s world it was gone, devoured.
His senses returned to him, and the fog lifted. He looked up and saw Polly on the other end of the table, sporting a massive grin. Basil gave a short laugh. What had just happened, exactly?
“Thanks for the sandwich, Polly!”
He excused himself to his room, his face slightly red.
Polly took another satisfied bite from her sandwich. Mission accomplished! Basil had eaten that sandwich like it was the first sandwich he’d ever seen in his life. She took one last bite, finishing the meal. It was a really good sandwich. He must have eaten that whole thing in two bites! What had she even been worried about? She’s a fine chef.
She picked up her plate and took it over to the waste bin, brushing the flower petals she’d used as a garnish into the trash before placing the dish in the sink. When she picked up Basil’s plate, though, she noticed that it was completely clean.
Wait a minute, did Basil eat the flower pedals too? She chuckled to herself. Ah, that crazy kid.
Basil closed the door behind him as he entered his room. Well, now what? He saw a book setting on his nightstand. Ah yes, the almanac. He picked it up and stood on his toes to return it to the top shelf of his bookcase. It landed with a plop, then fell over. Basil frowned. Now that won’t do. Gingerly he tipped the book back up against the others. Carefully he let go, then the whole row of books fell over, stirring up a cloud of dust.
Basil coughed, then two more times. Damn. Those coughs stirred on more coughs, and soon he was having a full-on coughing fit. Something was tickling his throat; there was no telling what. Finally, he spat it out. It fluttered through the air and he caught it in his hand.
Basil looked down to see the cause of the cough: a lone white tulip pedal.
Polly turned off the water. Was that coughing? She turned to go check on Basil when he burst into the room, grabbed his manga box set, and burst back to his bedroom.
She turned the water back on and went back to washing dishes. It must have just been her imagination. He’s fine.
No. No, no no no NO! This can’t be happening, not to him. Basil poured back over the volumes of the manga; he found the section was looking for towards the end of the first one.
She just couldn’t understand why her cough wouldn’t go away. It was as persistent as it was mysterious.
He flipped through the pages.
People started to stare as she had a coughing fit on the subway.
Basil flipped further. It was in here somewhere.
She searched her symptoms online. Nothing.
He kept flipping, and there it was.
In the midst of a particularly bad coughing fit, she is shocked to see a flower pedal flutter out of her mouth.
His trembling hand held the page. Basil ran his finger over her words as she came to the horrible realization.
Hanahaki disease!
Basil closed the volume numbly, still processing what had happened. Hanahaki disease. Hanahaki disease! His eyes grew wide. That was it. That had to be it! It’s the only explanation. He’d coughed up a flower pedal, and that’s how it starts.
His stomach sunk as he imagined it, just like the manga. For now it was pedals, but soon it be whole flowers. He’d look in the mirror, and a bouquet of bloodied white tulips would be forcing their way out of him. He placed his hand on his chest, under which must have been the invasive creature. He felt a twitch. Was that it now? He heart picked up pace, and he started to hyperventilate. Did he just feel it?
He scrambled for his cell phone and flipped it open. He’s got to call somebody, anybody! Basil scrolled through the contacts. Kel? He wouldn’t be able to explain it to him. Aubrey? She’d just call him an idiot. Hero? He wouldn’t call him an idiot, but the implication would be there. He already knew who he was going to call, though, so it didn’t matter. He dialed Sunny.
He stood there by his desk as the phone dialed. Sunny knew more about these manga than he did. Surely he’d know what to do.
After an anxious moment, he was connected.
“Hello?” Sunny sounded disheveled.
“Sunny! It’s Basil.” Basil spoke in a panicked whisper.
“Oh? Hi, Basil.”
“Sunny, you’ve got to help me! I need your advice. I think I’ve got hanahaki disease.”
“You think you have what?” There was a hint of disbelief in the response.
“Hanahaki disease! That thing where people cough up flowers.”
“I know what it is, Basil.” Sunny paused. “Is this because me and Aubrey are dating?”
“What? No, this is serious, Sunny!”
Sunny replied plainly. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a real thing.”
“But I coughed up a flower pedal!”
There was silence on the line.
“Hmmm, yeah.” Replied Sunny. “That does sound like it.”
“Sunny, I don’t know what I’m going to do. What if I cough up a sunflower? Those things are huge, I’ll choke!”
Sunny’s tone was steady. “Okay, let’s just think this out. Who do you love, Basil?”
“I love-” Basil stopped himself. “I-, I don’t know.”
A short laugh came through the line. “You have to know, Basil. You can’t have hanahaki disease without requited love.”
“You mean unrequi-”
“Unrequited love. So there has to be someone, Basil.”
Basil didn’t respond.
“Is it Kim?”
“NO! Well…”
“I’ve seen the way you look at her, Basil. You aren’t good at hiding stuff like that.”
“I don’t-”
Sunny continued. “It’s not a big deal Basil. We could go on double dates: Me, Aubrey and you and Kim. If we got bored, we could trade halfway through.”
Basil was having a hard time maintaining his panicked whisper. “What! Sunny-”
“Well, if you didn’t want to trade, maybe we could really mix things up and I could trade with Kim instead. Then it would be me, you, Aubrey, and Kim.”
In an apartment about an hour’s drive away, Sunny sported a wide grin. This was just too easy.
Basil was as red as a beet.
“Sunny, I don’t have a crush on Kim, okay!”
“I’m not sure why I’m humoring this,” Sunny said. “Isn’t Polly a nurse? You should just ask her about it. If it’s a real thing, she’ll be able to tell you what to do.”
“Yeah….” Basil’s voice trailed off.
“If you do have it, you’ll have to either work it out with whoever it is or have surgery. Easy.”
Basil curled his lip. It seemed so simple, put that way, and yet....
“Aren’t your parents loaded? They can afford it. As far as losing the feelings for them or whatever the side effect is, you can’t even tell me who it’s over. Can’t be that big of a deal, then.”
Basil frowned. “I guess so.”
Sunny pushed. “Or is it me and you’re just too shy to say?”
Basil’s eyes grew wide. He put on a laugh.
“Ha, no. You know I love you Sunny, but it’s more of a brotherly love.”
“Yeah,” said Sunny. “We’re bros.”
Basil smiled. “Exactly! We’re best friends. The best of friends! That’s how we’ll always be.”
“Good, good.”
“Well, I guess I’ll let you go, Sunny.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Goodbye.”
Sunny disconnected.
Basil sighed. He was going to have to say something at some point, wasn’t he?
Sunny rolled back over in bed. It was only nine, but he’d been trying to go to bed early so he didn’t sleep in as late as he used to. It didn’t really work, but he was trying.
He laid there awake. What a goof that Basil can be. He smiled. How’d he ever end up with a friend like him? Sunny felt the scar over his eye. They were friends, though, and they would always be.
Just….friends.
A little melancholy seeped in through the sentiment. He liked Basil, and he liked being friends with him, but what if-
No, that’s silly. It would never work out. Not after everything. Maybe if they had met in another world, at another time, or under different circumstances.
Sunny coughed. This damn city air! He’s been coughing ever since he moved from Faraway Town, felt like. He coughed again. This was a bad one. He flicked on his lamp as he coughed and reached for a tissue. He coughed into it, and the obstruction came loose.
Sunny looked down at the tissue to see a sprig of basil looking back at him.
“Meh, it’s probably nothing.”
He wadded the herb up in the tissue and carelessly tossed it towards a waste bin overflowing with tissues just like it, then he flicked his lamp off, laid back down, and went to sleep.