Chapter Text
Love in a mist.
Such a fitting name for Nigella damascena , just as beautiful as the flower itself. It appeared to be encased in a delicate misty web of bracts, as if its toxins weren't enough to protect it from the world. Pretty, it was, however, one of the few flowers with a blue hue to it, but its beauty was deceiving.
Blue, the rarest pigment in nature, was only present in the sky and its reflection in the water, but it had so much pride that it refused to descend to earth. Thus, only a few natural types of flowers had a color close to the boastful, mighty blue.
Delphiniums, another type of flowers of which a variant appeared bluish. They represent dignity. It was prettier than the last type he looked at, but unlike it, it wasn't pure. Humans specifically bred it to have that vibrant hue, and he wasn't searching for fake things.
Sheldon flipped the pages of his flora encyclopedia, eyes scanning for another species with the color he recently adopted as his favorite. If he wanted fake things, he could have brought a bouquet of plastic flowers, but he wanted to gift his beloved the real thing. The only obstacle was, he was eternally forbidden from ever approaching those beautiful plants.
Presenting a bouquet was one of the ultimate romantic approaches, and he just had to do it. Thus, he decided to make one for her, pour his heart and soul into it to imitate the real things through the art of crafting. He was going to craft her a bouquet from delicate metals that would last her forever, but he first needed to learn everything about what he was making… for accuracy.
A smile was on his face as he imagined the reaction on her adorable face when he gifts her the flowers. He would even be giggling if he didn't make a conscious effort not to make an audible sound in respect to the school library's rules. He liked making Jenny happy, and making homemade gifts for her was the only love language he knew because he wasn't good with words.
Sheldon glanced at his wristwatch and decided it was time to leave. He closed the encyclopedia and got up, intending to take the book home with him.
He was in front of his locker, carefully placing his books and taking out what he needed for the rest of the day, when he heard the one next to him open. He closed the door and glanced to his right to be met with his crush, and since he wasn't expecting to see her just yet, his mind searched for words. "Oh, h... hey Jenny," he greeted, smiling, and when she closed the door to her locker and looked down to meet his eyes, he couldn't help but add: "you look pretty today!"
Jenny cocked an eyebrow, and he took it as a sign that she didn't like the compliment. He blurted a little louder than intended: "I mean! You're always pretty! It's just... uh..." His voice lowered, and he tried to smooth it out by leaning on his locker, elbow supporting his body weight. "You lookin' extra shiny, new wax job?"
The smile and his made-up suave voice got ruined when his elbow slipped, and he ended up on the floor with a small yelp.
"Are you okay, Sheldon?" Jenny asked, peering over him
He opened his eyes to be met with Jenny's concerned face, and the pain instantly vanished as his mind only focused on the fact that she was worried for him. He stood up abruptly with a smile. "Never been better!"
"Hey, guys!"
The two turned around to meet Brad, waving from the distance as he approached them. His attention was briefly stolen by a female student. He said something to her that Sheldon couldn't hear from the distance, but Jenny heard it, and she looked mildly annoyed with it. The girl being spoken to didn't respond to the redhead and only ignored him.
"Sup," Brad greeted when he was close enough to give Sheldon a fist pump. He intended to do the same with Jenny, but retracted his hand back at the last moment. "I need to keep my hand in one piece. Sorry, Jen."
"Come on, Brad, I can control my strength just fine!" Jenny complained, crossing her arms. She then changed the subject. "Why do you always annoy every random girl you see?"
"What?" he asked, but then realization flashed on his face. "Oh, it's not annoying, Jen. It's called flirting, and I know every girl in our school is dying to get a piece of the Bradster." He pointed at his chest proudly, eyebrows wiggling. Then he teased: "ya jealous or something?"
"No," she denied, looking up to avoid his teasing gaze as they walked to their next class. "I just think it's weird how you flirt with every girl and her mother even though you always get met with refusal."
Sheldon followed them silently, the conversation intriguing to him.
"I never flirt with you or your mother, though."
"Huh... right..." She fell silent for a moment before asking: "why?"
Brad glanced at Sheldon and smiled. "Cause that's Sheldon's job."
"Hey! It was just one time!"
Brad chuckled, but then his attention shifted to Jenny when she grumbled in a low voice: "you just don't find me pretty like the other girls."
"I find you pretty," Sheldon said, his throat suddenly itching, but he ignored it.
"See, I told you, I don't wanna take his job," Brad joked, pointing at Sheldon before playfully nudging Jenny with his elbow. "But yeah, you're pretty."
A blue tint appeared on her porcelain cheeks, and she smiled. "You think?"
Sheldon stopped in his tracks. Why didn't she have that reaction when he gave her the exact same compliment twice that day? Maybe his opinion just didn't matter? Maybe he overdid it so much that she was now used to it? Or did Jenny simply value Brad's opinion over his?
The itch in his throat got worse and harder to ignore, joined by the roof of his mouth and his nose. He scratched his neck, but it didn't calm the itch that felt like it was inside his flesh. His eyes watered and he suddenly couldn't breathe from his nose.
"You okay, Shel?"
Sheldon looked up to meet Brad and Jenny's concerned faces.
"Yeah, it's just... Are there flowers here?" he asked, blinking back tears and looking around the hallway. "I'm having an allergic reaction."
"I stopped bringing flowers since the day you said you were allergic," Brad said.
Jenny raised a single eyebrow. "Why would you bring flowers to school?"
"So I can always be ready to do this..." He opened his backpack, tore a piece of paper from a notebook, rolled it to resemble a cigar, then said: "pretend this is a flower." He then put the paper between his teeth and offered a hand to Jenny. "Wanna danshe, hotsh shtuff?"
Jenny rolled her eyes before walking away. "C'mon, we're gonna be late."
"Pff, she doesn't understand ze charm." He shook his head, paper still in between his teeth. He glanced at Sheldon and offered. "Wanna dance inshtead?"
"Are you coming out to me?"
Brad laughed, the paper falling from his mouth. The laugh then came to an abrupt end when Sheldon broke into a coughing fit. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"
Sheldon shook his head, a hand over his mouth as he continued coughing. He waved goodbye and hastily hurried in the opposite direction, leaving Brad staring after him before he too decided it was time to head to his own class.
Water swirled into the sink's drain, filling the deserted bathroom with white noise. Everyone had already gone to their designated classes, and Sheldon knew he would be greeted with a warning for being late for his class, but he couldn't be worried about that.
He had already washed his face and hair, cleaned his nose, and even searched his clothes and backpack for the source of the allergic reaction he was having, but there wasn't even a single petal nearby that could've caused the problem. He had already downed every antihistamine medicine he had with him, and it calmed the tormenting itching. There was, however, a lingering ache in his chest that had him curled on himself, hand gripping the sink's edge firmly, while the other arm wrapped around his midsection in pain.
After what seemed like forever, he gathered the strength to walk to the nurse's office. He opened the door without knocking, because knocking was something he often forgot to do.
The school nurse, a petite lady that was well over her forties, looked at him from her desk. "Lee, what brings you here today?" she asked, fixing her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "Another fall?"
The 'Another fall' was what he usually told her instead of blatantly admitting that some random bully had beaten him. The frequency of that had dropped, at least, thanks to Jenny's presence around him. He could tell the nurse had never believed any of his lies, but she was overworked and underpaid, and she probably didn't care.
"My chest hurts," he stated simply. "I had an allergic reaction, but it's gone now. My chest still hurts when I breathe, though."
She stood up and signed for him to sit down on the examination bed. "What type of allergy do you have?" she asked, pulling a stethoscope out.
"Flowers."
"You mean pollen allergy."
"No, not pollen, just flowers..." he corrected, gently swinging his feet in the air.
She stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Is this a prank? I don't take you as the type to pull pranks, Lee."
"No, I'm not lying. I even have my medications on me!" he defended, intending to show her said medications when a new coughing fit caught him. He put his hand to his mouth, trying to muffle the coughs. Something was tickling his throat, and it almost made him gag.
"Well, that certainly is a rare allergy that I never heard of. I'll see what I can... What's that?"
Sheldon stared down at his hand and his breath caught in his throat. There were three small daisy petals covered in saliva. He subconsciously shook his hand off because it was hard-wired in his brain that he wasn't supposed to touch flowers. His eyes widened in shock. How did those petals even get in there? And where was ‘there’ exactly?
He looked at the nurse with questioning eyes, but she was only frowning at him, her arms crossed in front of her chest.
"Get out," she ordered, her voice was stern.
"Why?"
"Whatever you're trying to pull, it’s not funny."
"B-but I..."
She kept staring at him with that very angry, disappointed look that screamed at him to leave, so he silently picked his backpack and left, closing the door behind him. He could still hear her complain to herself from behind the door, "ugh! What kids these days won't do for attention! I can't believe he'd eat flowers and make up an allergy for it!"
Sheldon's hand remained on the doorknob for a while before he forced himself to walk to his classroom. Half the period was already over, and he knew he would get detention for it.
His chest was still aching.
Morning Glory.
Ipomoea purpurea , a species of blue flowers that loved the sun and bloomed in the summer, hence the name Morning Glory. It symbolized the strength that gives a person the power to realize their dreams, and he thought they suited Jenny so well.
Sheldon marked that page and closed the book, setting it aside on the nightstand beside his bed before turning the lights off. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling. His school day was long and agonizing, but it had ended long ago. It was midnight, and yet he couldn’t fall asleep.
How did those petals end up in his mouth?
He recalled an instance when someone had learned of his allergy and filled his locker with flowers. Jenny liked to call it the day she and Brad learned of what an EpiPen was. Maybe someone messed up with his food.
There still was some mild itch, though, and he would occasionally cough his throat raw until he'd take his antihistamines. At that point, he was sure he exceeded the recommended daily dose, but it wasn't something that worried him.
"I wasn't lying..." he spoke to himself, still affected by the nurse's words.
Out of curiosity and his inability to sleep, he went to his computer desk and booted the device on. He winced at the sudden exposure to the bright light, but his eyes quickly readjusted. He typed on the search bar: 'coughing up flower petals'.
He chuckled lightly at the result. There was this fictional disease that would slowly kill its host with flowers that grew in the lungs and stomach, and to add to the irony, it manifested only in those with unrequited romantic feelings toward someone that didn't love them back. It was by definition a literal embodiment of his emotions, slowly killing him from the inside.
The disease was fatal, and the only way to cure it was by having the other person reciprocate the feelings, or by surgical removal of the flowers, but this solution came with a twist; the person would lose the ability to experience love for the rest of their life.
Sheldon kept laughing at his findings. It was such a beautifully tragic concept, and his creative-to-a-fault mind wandered into the possibility of him really having this fictional disease. He would be dying slowly from something he considered forbidden but beautiful, and Jenny, just like the hero she had always been, would save him with a true love kiss that would cure him of his sickness and they would live happily ever after, just like the old fairy tales movies he liked to watch.
A sudden fall jolted him out of his fantasy, and he realized he had leaned too far back on his desk chair.
He stood up, yawning and stretching his arms, until a satisfying pop was heard. He turned off his computer, intending to walk back to his bed, but yet another coughing fit had stopped him, jolting his chest with pain until he was curled up on the floor. Tears were flooding his eyes and his throat burned, and suddenly there were more petals in his hand. He couldn't tell which type of flower they were because they were torn and bloody.
He blinked a few times, disbelieving his eyes, but the metallic taste lingering in his mouth and the pain in his chest forced him back to reality. His hands shook and his breathing became shallower and quicker with each passing second he spent staring at the bloodied bits in his hand.
"No, no no no no no no this isn't real," he repeated as he frantically shook his head. "This can't be happening, this can't be real, this is not real, it's not!"
His hyperventilating continued as he tried to shake himself back into reality, but reality wasn't believable. He stood up abruptly, shaking the petals off his hands, but the blood made them stick to his skin. It was so terrifying and frustrating, and his panicked breathing made the room around him swing and dance. He scampered to the landline phone and held it to his ear with a shaky hand, then with trembling fingers, he pressed the buttons to call Wakeman’s home.
Before anyone could answer, he put the phone down and curled on himself.
No one would believe him.
He couldn’t tell anyone.