Archive of Our Own

Soon, spring breezes will flow over the pure white snow

Oh, how I miss

My town

I had a dream to wish for

I had a dream to be someone new

Oh, how I miss

That person I loved

Antonin had dreaded the start of the pre-season. He had dreaded it for a long time.

It had all started going wrong the day Simon had announced his retirement.

Simon and him had always been close to one another. They had been very good friend for a long time, longer than anyone else on the French team. And even if with the years Simon had tended to leave him to spend more time with the calm and quiet Quentin, Antonin had always seen the other man as his closest friend. The friend that would never leave him behind, that would stay despite his bad jokes even if he didn’t laugh at them, that would stay until Antonin was ready to leave the world cup even if he wanted to leave first. He had always strangely thought Simon and him would never be… separated.

It had made it even more painful when Simon had decided to leave without telling him first. When he had simply announced his retirement through an Instagram post. Antonin had been strangely sad about it, sadder than he had thought he would be. He had wanted to ask Simon million questions. Why was he leaving so suddenly? Why hadn’t he told Antonin? Why hadn’t he asked Antonin about it? In the dark of his room, he even asked himself why Simon hadn’t asked him to leave too. To retire together, to end their career in the way they had lived it. Together.

The million questions in his mind had stayed in his mind. He hadn’t found the time to ask Simon between the preparations for the races and the preparations for his retirement. Then, when he had the time during the summer break, he hadn’t found the strength to ask. After all, it would be stupid, bothering Simon while he was enjoying his first real break with his family because of his strange questions. A small part of Antonin knew that he couldn’t find the strength because he was scared of the answer he would receive. He was strangely scared that Simon hadn’t thought about him when he had taken his decision. He couldn’t understand this fear, after all Simon had no real reason to think about him while taking such a personal decision. It was normal for him to talk about it with his wife. But he had no reason to do so with Antonin.

Despite rationally knowing he had no right to feel so sad over Simon retirement Antonin couldn’t get rid of this feeling. He couldn’t get rid of the pain he felt each time he went to training, his mind reminding him that he would never see Simon training with him again. He couldn’t get rid of the weird disappointment he felt each time he opened the door to his room to find Emilien sleeping here. It was a stupid thing to be disappointed about, after all he hadn’t share a room regularly with Simon for the last year. He had never thought about it before, how they had suddenly stop sharing a room, how Simon might have slowly been slipping away from him. There was something uncomfortable in his chest at this delusional idea that Simon had been leaving him way before he took his retirement.

Antonin’s couldn’t wait for the moment when he would stop thinking about Simon retirement. The moment he would be able to walk around their training ground without feeling so inadequate and broken. The moment he would stop being such a pitiful human being that couldn’t deal with the retirement of a friend. The moment he would stop thinking so much about said friend, about all the things that had change between them and all those who would inevitably change now that he wasn’t here anymore. Things like how he would never know another podium with Simon. How he would never cheer for the other man again. How Simon’s dream of winning in the World Cup again would be unachieved. Even if Antonin had never said anything about it, Simon’s dream had always been like his in a way. He had always cherished them like he cherished his. They were both very similar biathlete, and it was easier to dream about winning in the world cup when Simon had done so. He had felt closer to winning when Simon had during the 2020-2021 season. Something which was really stupid, because he had finished around the tenth place the two times Simon had win. Still, it had felt like he could be winning too. Or maybe like he was winning too; Antonin wasn’t sure anymore.

Antonin had really hoped a few weeks would make all these strange feelings disappear. That after a few weeks he would finally be free from these weird delusional thoughts, from these weird pains he felt when he thought about Simon.

The start of the season made him hopeless again.

I hear someone’s song

It gives someone heart

I see someone’s smile

Past the far side of grief

Flowers will bloom, they will, they will

For you who are yet to be born

Flowers will bloom, they will, they will

Oh, what did I leave in this world?

Antonin hadn’t expected much from the start of his season. He knew he was already lucky to still be in the A team with his age and the young biathletes showing promises in Ibu Cup. He knew he should consider himself lucky to just be able to do the thing he loves. He had expected to go to Sweden, to compete in two races he wouldn’t win, to have a good time with his team and to maybe not think too much about Simon’s absence. It wasn’t that much to ask after all.

It wasn’t too much to ask not to think about Simon, not to think about how he had won his last race in Sweden. About how he liked skiing in Scandinavia. About how he would have liked to ski in Idre, a place he had never competed in. Antonin had almost sent a message to Simon once they had arrived in Idre Fjall. Something stupid, like a useless picture or a meme. He then had saw that their last discussion had happened during the French championship and he couldn’t find the strength to send anything anymore. Not thinking about the time that has passed, or about his retired friend wasn’t too much to ask really.

Antonin realised that he had forgotten something on the list of things to hope for. He had forgotten to ask to be healthy in this season’s beginning. He hadn’t been feeling fully healthy during the summer. It had started with weird pain in his body, as if he was feeling desperately tired. He had thought it was Covid at first, but the many tests he had stealthily done during the summer had been negative. He had then decided; without consulting any doctors to not scare the team; that it must had been some pain linked to the intensive training he had done the last years. Then the weird pain had settled in his stomach. It felt like having a swarm of butterfly in it, but not in the positive and lovely way. In the “something strange is happening to my body and I can’t find any word for it” way. When they had arrived in Sweden the strange pain had been becoming to settle in his lungs. He couldn’t train for too long before starting to feel tired and out of breath. He had succeeded in hiding it at first, until Quentin had found him out of breath and white as a paper sheet after an intensive ski session. If it had been anyone else, they would have listened to Antonin desperate plea to not see a doctor, and to not talk to the team. But Quentin was different. He was responsible, and he knew that responsibility came with doing uncomfortable things for the good of people when it was necessary. He was also used to sickness; way more than the rest of the French team was. Antonin had known Quentin was taking the good decision by snitching to their coach. But it didn’t mean he had to like it.

That’s how he found himself sitting in the office of a Swedish doctor. The team had chosen one that spoke English thankfully, and Antonin had been drag to it. The doctor asked him about his symptoms in a perfect English, pointing to different part of his body. He did the regulars exams, those any doctors would do. He then looked at Antonin with a weird emotion on his otherwise neutral face.

“It’s impossible to say with certainty what you suffer from without others exams. I… do think the problem lies in the lungs. We can settle a scan for you as soon as possible, tomorrow if that’s okay with your planning.”

Antonin wasn’t stupid. He knew there was something else, something unsaid. He also knew that the urgency with which the doctor wanted the scan to happen meant that he must have strong suspicion about what was plaguing him.

“I’m supposed to race in 3 days. Will that be possible with that exam?” Antonin asked, his voice unsure.

“It could be possible, depending on the result of the scan.” The doctor answered with sincerity, but Antonin could see the honest translation of that answer was a no. Antonin left the doctor’s office with an appointment settled for the next day, and a terrible fear in his stomach. He had told the coaching staff about the appointment before going back to his room. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anyone right now. Somehow his hands found Simon’s number again, his thumbs hovering over it for a moment. Maybe he wanted to speak to Simon. Maybe the other man could reassure him, like he used to do before.

That thought was followed by an excruciating pain that made him drop his phone. It felt like there was something in his throat, something that was preventing him from breathing correctly. Antonin coughed a few times, hoping his teammates next door wouldn’t hear him. No matter how hard he coughed the air refused to went through correctly. After the longest minute in his life, he felt the pain subdued as something came out of his mouth. There was blood on his hand, blood that he had just coughed. Antonin left out a wince, looking at the blood with fear.

It wasn’t a regular symptom that would come with too much training or with a little cold. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he was scared to know right now. The taste of blood was overwhelming, as was his metallic scent. He needed to get rid of it before his mind could panic more. Or before anyone else entered the room and saw him like that. Antonin went to the bathroom in his room, washing the blood from his hand meticulously before drinking some water to get rid of the taste of blood that had settled in his mouth. He looked at his reflection in the mirror with a sigh.

“I look like I haven’t slept in days. I hope they find whatever the fuck I have tomorrow.” He mumbled tiredly before going back to his bed. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, and when he woke up the next morning it felt like he hadn’t slept at all. He felt too bad to eat anything for breakfast, between the stress of coughing blood and the stress of the doctor’s appointment. He stupidly hoped that he had nothing too wrong, but the fact he was now coughing blood made that truly difficult to believe.

When he arrived to the radiology center after an hour on the road, because there had been no radiology center closer, he was surprised by his appearance. He was used to this kind of center, being a professional biathlete came with a lot of pain and appointment to the doctor. He was used to these appointments happening in hospital and clinics. But the place he was looking at didn’t look like a hospital at all. It was a white small building that almost looked more like a house, and which was surrounded by flowers. The taxi bringing him here; because Antonin had refused to be followed by any member of the coaching staff this time, to scared of what he might learn; explained to him in a hesitant English that there were a few health professionals here. A small radiology center, a doctor and a psychologist. Antonin nodded, hoping anyway that he would only come here once. After all, they were set to leave soon for Kontiolahti, and even if he might need a doctor again, he truly hoped he wouldn’t need another scan of his lungs. The taxi left him in front of the door, telling him he would wait until the end of the appointment. Antonin nodded, trying to smile a bit despite his stress.

“They’ll find what’s wrong. And then I’ll be healthy again…at one point” he mumbled to himself, trying to believe it. He entered into the small building, giving a small smile to the woman sitting behind the wooden desk at the entrance. She was certainly the secretary.

“Hello. I’m here for an appointment.” Antonin stated simply, hoping the woman would speak English.  She looks at him with a confused face for a second before looking down at the computer in front of here for a second.

“Ah! Antonin Guigonnat?” She said, completely butchering his name. Antonin almost laughed, he always found it funny and cute when foreigners were incapable of reading his name.

“Yes, it’s me” he said while nodding, because he was quite sure the woman couldn’t understand him. The woman gave him a thumbs up before moving her hand toward one of the chairs next to the wall. Antonin smiled at here once again before going to sit here. A few minutes went by in the silence of the office, and Antonin can’t help the overwhelming stress that is taking him. He tried looking around him to find anything to focus on, but there are only a few plants and some painting of snowy mountains in the entrance. He moved on the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position that might help him get rid of some stress when he is interrupted by a robotic voice.

“Do not worry. The doctor is very knowledgeable. Very good.” The robotic voice came from the phone of the secretary. She looked at him with a comforting smile, before typing on the phone again.

“Do you want a tea while you’re waiting?” the voice asked, devoid of any emotion because it came from a translation app. But there was enough compassion on the secretary’s face to make up for it. Antonin takes out his phone, typing into his translation app.

“Jag skulle älska det, ja.” Antonin is happy the app can read it, because he isn’t sure how any of these words is supposed to be said. The secretary smiled at him before leaving the room. She came back a moment late with two mugs in her hands, a tea bag floating in each of them. She came closer to Antonin, handing the mug to him with a bright smile. The tea smelled of cinnamon and orange, and between the scent, the warmth and the bright smile of the secretary, Antonin found himself strangely comforted. He was still stressed of course, but it was bearable this time.

“Tack” he said with embarrassment, hoping he remembered well at least how to say thank you in Swedish. The secretary smiled at him again while moving her hands, as if to tell him he didn’t have to thank her. Antonin smelled the tea once again before drinking it slowly. It was nice, this simple compassion he was receiving. It was stupidly warming his heart. He had the time to drink the entirety of his tea before the doctor door opened. Antonin got to the secretary’s desk, putting the mug down on it with a smile and a small thankful nod before following the doctor in his office.

“Sorry for the delay, I had to put this appointment in between two others and the first one had been a bit longer than expected.” The doctor apologized while they entered in his office, and Antonin left out a reassured sigh. He felt better, knowing the doctor spoke English.

“I guess the first doctor had considered the appointment quite urgent.” Antonin explained with a calm voice, trying not to think about what his first doctor had suspected if he had done so many efforts to get him a quick appointment.

“He did, indeed. Is it the first time you have such an appointment?” The doctor asked as Antonin sat down on the chair un front of the desk.

“It’s not the first time. We do regular exams in my profession.” He simply stated as he took off his necklace. He knew it was better if he had no jewelry and no clothes for this exam.

“Good it will make things easier. You just need to take off your shirt and go in front of the panel. I’ll take the scan, study it quickly before sending it to your doctor. Is that okay with you?” The doctor asked with a kind voice and Antonin nodded quickly before taking off his shirt too. He didn’t care much about it, he wouldn’t be a professional biathlete if he cared too much about not being shirtless in front of other people. He got in front of the panel, waiting for the doctor instructions. The doctor asked him to breathe as deeply as he could, then to hold his breath. Antonin did so each time he was asked, wincing with pain when he was asked to breathe deeply. There was something wrong when he did that. Something that hurt in is thorax. Even if the exam only took minutes Antonin felt terribly out of breath after it. The doctor gave him his shirt back before he held his arm out to him. Antonin took it, trying not to be embarrassed about needing help. He was a professional athlete; he wasn’t supposed to be out of breath after a 5 minutes exam. The doctor brought him back to the chair, going to sit on the other side of the desk in front of his computer. He looked at the screen for long moment, watching it incredulously. Antonin wasn’t sure it was supposed to be a good sign. Then, the doctor took a pair of glasses, putting them on and looking at the screen with even more attention. The silent examination went on for a few uncomfortable minutes before the doctor looked back at him. His face was shocked. It was the first time Antonin saw a doctor that shocked.

“I…” the doctor hesitated, and Antonin felt something drop in his stomach. Whatever he had was enough to create such a shock to a doctor. It was definitely not just a small cold.

“It’s the first time I see that in my career. I’ve heard a lot about it before, but I’ve never seen it in real life.” As he said so the Doctor turned the screen towards Antonin, showing him the scan of his lungs.

At first Antonin wasn’t sure what he was supposed to look at. He wasn’t an expert on lungs, but his lungs seemed normal. Well, at least they didn’t look like the lungs on the cigarette package, so that was a win he supposed. The doctor came to stand next to him, pointing his fingers to something on the screen. A small form Antonin hadn’t even seen when he had looked at the scan. Something that looked like…a vein? It wasn’t a vein but it had the general shape of one. The shape of a root, divided in small branches.

“Did you cough anything during the last weeks?” The doctor asked and Antonin looked at him without understanding.

“Blood. Should I be coughing anything else? I’m not sure I understand what we are looking at.” He said while looking at the screen once again. The doctor seemed to get out of his shock at that point because he took his chair to come sit next to Antonin.

“Do you see that small form here?” the doctor asked again, pointing to the weird form in his lungs.

“Yeah… What is it?” Antonin asked, starting to get really scared. Did he have a tumor in his lungs? Why was the doctor so shocked?

“It’s a root.”

Antonin looked at the doctor without understanding. Maybe the words root had two meaning in Swedish or in English. But in his language, it only had one, and it made no sense here.

“A root?” he asked incredulously, not sure if he was really in a doctor office suddenly. Maybe it was a fake radiologist, a man that had no real qualification. Maybe he should have gone to a bigger town to get a scan in a hospital.

“I know it must sound crazy. But…” the doctor turned quickly, looking for something in his office. He seemed to find it when he stood, going to reach for a book that was on one of the libraries. He opened the book, showing his content to Antonin.

“It’s a less known sickness. The first recognized case had been studied in 1995, before that this sickness was considered almost as a myth as it only appeared in Asian legends.” The doctor pointed to the pictures in the book. Picture of many scans. The first looked like his, quite normal if it wasn’t for the small “roots” appearing in some place. On the next scan there was even more root, and something else was also appearing. Something bigger, that almost looked like…

“A flower?” Antonin muttered incredulously.

“Many flowers. Growing in the lungs.”

It sounded like something out of a fantasy book.

“It’s called Hanahaki disease. It’s Japanese from hana, flower. And hakimasu, throwing up.” The doctor explained while pointing at the large text next to the scans, certainly indicating to Antonin that his explanation could be found here. Antonin was too dumbfounded to look at it.

“Does it mean that… flowers are growing in my lungs? How is that possible? How did that happened?” he asked, almost unable to believe what the doctor was telling him.

“Flowers will be growing in your lungs at one point. For the how, the only answer we have after all these years of study is that there is a chemical imbalance in the body that cause this sickness in a given context. When the necessary context happens, the imbalance makes it possible for flowers to grow in the lungs.”

The doctor took a pause, looking at Antonin with honesty.

“We don’t actually know that much about how is it possible. We only know that it happens only…”

He took a pause there, looking at Antonin with too much compassion.

“It only happens in case of a strong unrequited feeling. Unrequited love precisely. If one believes his feeling to be unrequited, or if they truly are, flowers start to grow in his lungs. We have a lot of theories about it actually, about how the chemical reaction causing love lose his balance when one keeps the love for itself. Many experts believe it’s why the flowers grow. Other believe it’s the lovesick pain of one-sided love that make them grow. There are no certitude yet.”

Now it sounded like something out of a dramatic fantasy novel. Antonin sat there, unable to say anything. His mind was lost, trying to understand all the information given by the doctor. He was suffering from what could only be described as a weird sickness that almost sounded like a curse. A weird sickness that was making… no, that would make flowers grow in his lungs. He tried to ignore the potential reason behind this sickness, preferring to ask the question he had kept to himself since the beginning of that unreal talk.

“What… what are the consequences of that. Flowers growing into one lungs?” he asked as if he wasn’t directly concerned.

“The flowers and the roots start taking more and more space into the lungs, growing in every space they can find… making it impossible for the person to breathe.” The doctor explained quietly. Antonin took this answer like a punch in the face. Did that mean…

“Am I… going to die?” he asked, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. His eyes must be filled with tears yet, and he was trying his best not to cry like a child.

“The survival chance is actually quite high. On the knows case treated by doctors, almost 90% of those touched by it survived.”

“What happened to the other 10%?” Antonin asked, feeling like there is something more behind that stat.

“They refuse the treatment. The…price to pay can be considered to high by some patients.”

Antonin looked at the doctor with urgency, his eyes certainly begging him to explain.

“I’m not a specialist on that sickness. But there are only two definitive cures. The unrequited love becoming requited. Or the removal of the flowers and roots that are settled in the lungs. The thing is, the removal of the flowers causes the disappearance of the love felt by the patient. They lose the love they feel for that one person.”

Losing the love felt for one person or dying if Antonin understood correctly then. With the bonus of the best option, seeing that love being shared. Antonin would almost feel better, if he knew his “love” could be shared.

Because he wasn’t dumb. He was a clown sometimes, but he wasn’t dumb to the point of being unable to understand what had caused that sudden sickness.

Simon’s leaving had been the starting point. He hadn’t felt anything wrong in his body before that. He hadn’t felt anything wrong before he had started to wonder why Simon had left him, why he hadn’t asked him to come with him…

His train of thoughts was interrupted by an ugly cough. The doctor gave him a tissue an Antonin coughed in it for a few minutes, trying without success to get rid of the horrible sensation in his throat. He tried to ignore how the tissue is soon tainted with blood, how he felt dizzy just smelling the metallic scent.

“I’ll send the scans to Dr.Svensson so that he can try to contact someone that have more expertise on that. He’ll then give you the necessary meds, so that you can deal with the pain and cough until the removal of the roots can be done.” The doctor said nicely, patting Antonin on the shoulder with a gesture full of compassion. Antonin had stayed unmoving, deciding it was better not to think about the potential removal of the flower now, or to the consequence it would have. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have another crisis just by thinking about that now.

Antonin had found himself back to the first doctor office the next day. He had ignored the worried eyes of his teammates and coaches when he had left alone. He wasn’t sure of a lot of things yet after only one night of thinking, but he was sure he didn’t want his teammates to know about that. His coaches might have to know a bit, because if he wanted to continue the season despite his meds, he needed to have them approved by his team first, then by the Ibu.

The doctor from yesterday had given his book to Antonin, the one that was talking about Hanahaki disease. Antonin had started reading it during the night, kept awake by the idea that flowers would suffocate him during the night. Antonin had learned a few things between all the medical stuff he couldn’t really understand.

Firstly, he was only at the beginning of the sickness. As long as he didn’t start to cough parts of flowers he was “relatively” well. Secondly, the sooner the sickness was discovered the more chance he had to survive. Thirdly…

Thirdly, he had to renounce to the person he loved if he wanted to get better. He had read this part of the book 10 times, just to be sure, just to check if there wasn’t some roundabout way to avoid that. The book (and his internet research) only made him conclude that if couldn’t be loved back, he had to get the flowers removed surgically. Such a removal would make the love responsible for the flower’s growth disappear. Meaning that he would look back at his life and feel no love for … that person. He would feel nothing while looking at him, or while thinking about him…

Antonin was still having a hard time with that part of the sickness. He wasn’t even that sure why the sickness was happening to him. Yes, he had been sad and maybe heartbroken when Sim…when he had left. He had wanted more time, and maybe more time meant having him only for himself, but he hadn’t even considered it to be love really. He would have known if he had been in love with him, right? It’s not like these kinds of feelings could be totally ignored and denied. Still, his body seemed to have decided that he was in love. So profoundly in love that the idea of not getting that love back was killing him. Antonin would find it poetic, if he wasn’t at risk of dying from it.

He was thinking about that when he arrived to the doctor office. He had written down a list of things he needed to ask for. Like meds that would make it possible for him to stay on the national team until he got the flowers…until he got better. Meds that would make it less painful perhaps. He also needed to ask how quickly the sickness was supposed to grow. To adapt his world cup and training planning around that.

The doctor had welcomed him as nicely as the first time, even if Antonin could see there was a form of care that hadn’t been present the first time. Now that he knew what Antonin had, it seemed like he was even more careful and nice with him.

“I’ve received the scans from Dr.Stefan. I talked to one of my colleagues in Stockholm, an expert that had studied that sickness for his doctorate in Tokyo, to get a better idea on how to threat you.” He opened with while getting a few sheets of papers from his desk. He pushed one of the paper sheet towards Antonin, motioning for him to read it.

“We’ve come to the conclusion that getting you on a mix of four medicine should keep the sickness bearable until the operation is possible.”

What if I don’t want the operation? Antonin almost wanted to ask, but he knew it was stupid. Of course, he wanted the operation. He wasn’t even sure he loved Simon so of course he wanted to get rid of the unjustified sickness that would slowly kill him.

“Would these four medicines make it possible for me to go on with biathlon?” he asked while looking at the list of medicine. It was medicine he didn’t really know, things that were certainly stronger than the usual stuff he took.

“We created this protocol taking into consideration the fact that you are an athlete. It should make it possible for a while, if your federation accept it of course.”

Antonin nodded while putting the sheet of paper aside. He would need to contact the Ibu about that, which meant that he would need to speak about it with the team doctor.

“How long do I have?” Antonin asked frankly and neutrally, as if he wasn’t the one concerned by that question.

“You can stay on this meds for a month, then you’ll need to go see a doctor. He will determine if the operation can be done at that point, or if there is the need to wait for all the roots to appear.”

Antonin looked at the doctor, expecting more answers. The doctor sighed softly.

“Each hanahaki disease grow at his own rhythm. But generally, the roots and flowers should be removed at stage 2 for it to be optimal. You are at stage 1 right now.”

“How many stage is there? Before…” Antonin stopped himself, unable to pronounce the fated words.

“There are five stages in hanahaki disease. Stage 0, apparition of the first pains. Stage 1, apparition of the first root. Stage 2, apparition of numerous roots and parts of flowers. Stage 3, apparition of fully formed flowers that need to be thrown up… Stage 4, propagation to all the lungs, to the throat and more sometimes.”

It sounded as awful as it felt.

“Stage 2 is optimal for removal because all the roots are formed. Therefore, there is no risk of missing some roots during the removal. There is also no risk of the root reappearing, something that can happen when the operation is done too quickly in stage 1.”

“Stage 3 is the last stage where operation is possible. When in stage 4 the sickness has already taken over too much of the body to be surgically removed. Only shared love can make it potentially disappear at that time. If the body still has enough strength to survive it.”

The doctor took a pause, looking at Antonin to be sure he understood everything. Antonin nodded absently, trying to remember all these information.

“I will send all of this information to you, so that you can understand your sickness better. It’s a tricky sickness. For some people stage 2 takes months to happen, while for other it’s there in only a few weeks. There is a supposition that…strong emotion can quicken the advancement of the sickness. Either way, you need to see a doctor in one month at least, but I strongly advise that you see one as soon as you feel a change in your pain… Or as soon as you see something else than blood coming out of your mouth.”

Antonin swore to the doctor that he would be careful and that he would follow the protocol before leaving. Going back to the team was hard in this condition. It was hard to pretend nothing was wrong, to pretend he wasn’t affected by the strange sickness that had taken him. At least he had meds for that now, to make it a bit easier. Maybe easier was the wrong word, a bit less painful. The first thing he did when he was back was to go to the team doctor. He didn’t want to explain to him what he was suffering from but he had to show him the meds and the prescription, so that the Ibu could approve of them. The doctor looked at the list of medicine with surprised eyes, and Antonin was scared that he might have recognized the mix of medicine he was on. That he might have understood the sickness Antonin was being treated for.

“I’m not going to ask any question about that mix because it’s not my place to do so. But you do now the medicine you are taking is quite heavy and will come with a lot of side-effects, right?” The doctor asked slowly, certainly because he wasn’t trying to scare Antonin more than he already was.

“I haven’t read all the side effects yet, but it’s the only way for me to…”

To continue biathlon, he really wanted to say. But he couldn’t, because the doctor would understand that the medicine wasn’t here to fix him. That it wasn’t a solution, and that therefore something bigger like an operation was to be expected. Something Antonin wanted to hide as long as he didn’t have the date of the appointment for the… potential removal of flowers.

“To get better.” He chose to say, hoping his small pause wouldn’t gave anything away.

The doctor looked at him with thinking eyes, before his eyes went down to the prescription again.

“If you want to get better, you should receive a shot of Amphotericin C before you start taking the Itraconazole. I can prescribe that for you, it had been efficient before.” The doctor simply said while looking at the four medicine he was supposed to take. Antonin looked at him with surprise.

“Do you know what…” he started asking but the doctor interrupted him while raising his hand.

“I’ve seen the mix of these meds before in my life. At that time this sickness was even less studied than it is now. There were several protocol that had been tried out, and adding Amphotericin C had actually been advised by Dr.Mastuda. The first doctor that had created a protocol on this sickness.”

Well, Antonin maybe shouldn’t be surprised his doctor had understood that quickly. But he was surprised by the fact that he seemed to know that much about the sickness and the medicine linked to it.

“How do you know that stuff?” Antonin asked quietly, unsure if he had the right to ask this question. His doctor looked at him with a sad smile before answering.

“I’ve been a doctor for a long time. It’s not the first time one of my patients suffer from this complicated illness.” He simply said before he took a long pause.

“I might… I might actually be able to get you in contact with someone that had suffered from the same illness. If you wish for it to happen, of course.”

“I’m…not sure yet. I’d like for it to stay a secret, for now at least.”

The doctor nodded before looking at the paper once again.

“I’m going to add the prescription for Amphotericin C, then I’ll send all of that to the Ibu. Tomorrow you should take a day off, I’ll go get the medicine for you.”

“I don’t need a break. I barely did anything these days.”

“That’s an order from your doctor. Take a break. Soon, you’ll need a lot of strength between the medicine, the training and the sickness.”

Antonin was out of breath. Not the regular out of breath that would get better after a few seconds. The out of breath that meant he needed to leave the room and go cough out blood behind a random building where no one could find him. The second race of the year which had been his first with his absence during the individual had went…as good as expected considering the fact he was 31 and sick. Being 27^th wasn’t something Antonin had thought possible when he had started the race. His doctor had told him to take the medicine 30 minutes before the race, to avoid any big crisis during it and he had been right. Antonin had indeed avoided a big crisis. His doctor just had forgotten to tell him that the big crisis would therefore happen after the race.

Maybe he had told Antonin actually, but the bunch of medicine he was taking was making it hard for his brain to follow sometimes. Either way, Antonin needed a quiet place to go cough blood, a place where none of his teammates would be. Even better perhaps, a place where no one would be. His thoughts had guided him behind one of the circular building next to their hotel. It wasn’t too far so he wouldn’t make his crisis worst by ignoring it for too long, but it wasn’t too close so he wouldn’t fall on any of his teammates.

At least he thought so, until he saw Emilien and Quentin there.

The two of them had no reason to be here really. Unless they were doing like Antonin, trying to find a place where no one they knew would be. A quiet and empty place. It would be logical that knowing the same places they choose the same one randomly.

Yet, it didn’t give an answer to Antonin’s biggest question. What were the two of his teammates doing to need such a recluse space. It wasn’t like they had any reason to avoid the team, the staff or anyone else really. Were they going to fight maybe? Antonin had felt like their relationship had gotten better after the Olympics last year, but maybe he had been wrong. He certainly wasn’t the best to judge relationship or feeling, considering he hadn’t even realised he had fallen in love with Simon until he was coughing blood. He looked at them for a second, wondering if it was dangerous to leave them here alone, if he was going to find one of them with a black eye and a broken arm tomorrow.

Until Quentin softly pushed Emilien against the wall, kissing him hard. Antonin would have panicked if Emilien hadn’t immediately answered by putting his arms around Quentin’s shoulders…And if he wasn’t too busy coughing blood violently. He felt his body shake, just as if he wanted to throw up and he took a few steps back, making sure he couldn’t be seen by his two teammates. He would have moved further away if he could, but his crisis was too big right now. There was nothing else but the pain in his lungs, the red on his hand and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. He couldn’t say how long he stayed like that, barely moving in the snow, trying his best to hide his coughs. He coughed and coughed again, wondering when the crisis would stop. Wondering if he might die like that, choked by blood and whatever the fuck was growing in his lungs. He felt something going up in his throat, just as if he was going to throw up. But he didn’t throw up, when he opened his mouth and coughed out what was stuck something small and bloodied fell into his hand.

It was a small flower. Smaller than he had expected. Antonin couldn’t tell if the flower was originally that pink or if his blood had tainted it, but it had the shape of a heart. It would have been poetic really, that his love for Simon had been translated in heart shaped flowers’…If he wasn’t throwing them up and if it wasn’t killing him. Antonin stayed there, trying his best to look at the flower despite his shaking hand and his blurry vision.

This was his pain and his crushed hopes. This was his love for Simon.

Wasn’t it fucking unfair? He had known Simon for so long, they had always been friends. Yet all there was for him was that pain and suffering.  Quentin and Emilien had been rivals for years, there had been time when they barely spoke to one another. Yet there was a hope at love for them. Emilien hadn’t been throwing up flowers, and he had Quentin now. Something green and terrible in his mind was screaming about how unfair it was, that he was suffering, that he was the only one suffering…Antonin hated it, hated being that selfish and wrong even in his thoughts, even in his pain. He started to cry softly, looking at the flower until it became blurry.

Maybe it was better if he stayed there in the snow until he lost consciousness. Maybe it would be less painful.

“Antonin? What are you doing in the snow like that are you…Is that blood?” A familiar voice asked, getting closer and closer to him. Antonin could hear the sound of footsteps in the snow, and a panicked exclamation mumbled in a language he couldn’t understand.

“Shit, are you bleeding, what is…” Vetle; because no matter how blurry the world was Antonin had recognized the other man; stopped before he could finish his sentence. Antonin was suddenly covered in a warm jacket, and Vetle sat down next to him, putting one arm around his shoulder to bring him closer.

“You’re fucking cold, you’re going to catch death like that.” Vetle said and Antonin laughed as best as he could. He was still smelling the blood in his mouth and the flower was still resting in his now covered hand.

“Guess I already caught that.” He mumbled and Vetle turned towards him. He pulled him up as best as he could, and Antonin was half sure his legs would have given up if Vetle wasn’t holding him strongly by the waist.

“I need to get you back to your room. You need to warm up and…get rid of the blood.” Vetle said kindly and Antonin was surprised about how…how unsurprised Vetle was about the blood. How he wasn’t panicking that much since he had picked up Antonin. Anyone would have panicked about finding another biathlete alone in the snow, covered in blood. Yet, Vetle wasn’t panicking.

“I don’t want to go back to my room.” He mumbled despite how could he still was even with Vetle’s jacket on his shoulders. Despite how he was shaking, how his legs were almost giving up under his weight. He didn’t want to got back to his team right now. He didn’t want to see Quentin and Emilien, to see their happy love and…

He coughed harder and Vetle patted his back softly, as if to help him or comfort him. The second flower came out quicker than the first one. Maybe at one point he wouldn’t realise he was coughing them really. Vetle should have panicked about the flower, yet he only looked at it silently.

“For how long did you have…that?” Vetle asked while looking at the flower in Antonin’s hand. Antonin wasn’t sure how he wasn’t panicking at all. It wasn’t like the hanahaki disease was a well-known disease. A few months ago he would have panicked if he had saw anyone throwing up flowers.

“If by that you mean the flower, they just appeared.” He answered coldly, because he wasn’t sure why Vetle was curious about that. Was it some kind of morbid curiosity, wondering why Antonin was coughing blood and flowers, wondering if it was a sickness that could go around in the French team, that could make the Norwegians’ year even easier?

“So, you must have had it for a few months. The flowers are the last step.” Vetle said with compassion and too much knowledge. Sadly, Antonin was too angry to see these two emotions. He was too caught up in the apparition of the fated flowers to realise what Vetle had let through in his voice.

“Because you’re a specialist on hanahaki disease I guess?” Antonin spat hardly, trying to move out of Vetle’s hold. Vetle let him do so, allowing Antonin to take a step back. He didn’t try to touch him again, he just looked at him, as if to make sure he wouldn’t fall again.

“You are more than me. I’m not spitting flowers yet” He answered and there was something wrong in that yet. Something temporary. Something that would change quick if Vetle’s voice was to be believed.

“You…no it’s impossible…” Antonin muttered. He hadn’t liked being alone in that situation, but knowing someone as kind as Vetle was also suffering from it? He hadn’t hoped for that, not at any moment even in his pain.

“It’s possible, the roots that started appearing in my lungs are proof of that, really.” Vetle said with a resigned voice. As if he had already grieved that shitty situation. As if he had already grieved the love he was feeling…or his own life.  Antonin wasn’t sure which of the two he had grieved, just like he wasn’t sure for himself.

“It’s fucking unfair. It’s so fucking unfair…Love is supposed to be beautiful and soft and…yeah heartbreaking sometimes, but it’s not supposed to be deadly.” Antonin said and there were tears streaming down his face now. It was easier to feel that sad now that he was spitting flowers. Now that he also knew that all of that was a hundred percent real. That he wasn’t a medical freak, that others very real people were suffering from the same freaky disease.

“It is unfair. But…love had always been unfair, hasn’t it?’ Vetle said, and there was so much pain in his voice that Antonin knew he had suffered even before the roots had appeared. Antonin had been at least spared by that, because he had only realised what he was feeling was love because the roots had started appearing in his lungs. Yet he knew love was unfair. Unfair, like Simon’s retirement. Simon leaving him behind, alone, not even telling him that he was leaving. Simon taking away all the happiness and warmth Antonin had ever felt, giving up on him after so many years…After all the pain and joy they had shared, after everything. That was unfair, indeed.

“You know what the worst is? No matter how unfair it is, I don’t want the love to go away. No matter how much it hurts. I don’t want what I feel for him to disappear…because it’s the only thing I have left of him in a way.” He said between his sobs, and he wasn’t sure why he was telling that to Vetle. Why he was baring his heart for the other man. Maybe because they were on the same boat. Maybe because he couldn’t keep that scary thought for himself any longer.

He didn’t want to get rid of what he was feeling for Simon. No matter how much it hurt, how much it was killing him…Getting rid of these feelings felt like getting rid of what he had left from Simon. Of their memories together, of the affection and love he felt while thinking about their past together. Simon was gone, and all he had for him now were these happy memories. Those he could look back to and wonder if in another world Simon might have loved him.

He couldn’t bear to get rid of that. No matter how much he wanted the pain to disappear.

“Shit, I get it Anto. Not in the same way, not fully but…I get you, really. I understand.” Vetle said, and weirdly that was the kindest thing Antonin had heard since months. He came closer to Vetle, pulling the other man into a hard hug. Vetle hugged him back, and for a moment it was easier to forget about the pain because he wasn’t alone in it.

“You know, they are still studying this shit but…If the flowers are here, you don’t have much time left to…” Vetle stopped before he could end that sentence, certainly hesitating on what he could say. You don’t have much time left to get rid of the flowers? To cherish these feelings? To live?

All of these sentences were true. Yet Vetle knew better than to say them.

“I know.” Antonin only answered, trying his best not to let his thoughts spiral out of his control. Not to think to hard about what he was willing to give up first. His life, or his love for Simon?

Somehow, the answer didn’t feel that easy anymore.

Soon morning will break

On the far side of night

Oh, how I miss

Those days

We hurt and were hurt

Unrequited, we wept

But now more than ever I miss

That person I loved

Antonin hadn’t gotten better. He hadn’t truly expected to get better really. He had been to the doctor’s appointment, had taken the pills and everything until the doctor uttered the fated words, those that were supposed to bring the end of his love.

You should get the operation at most during the Christmas break. Otherwise, it will be too late to get it.

The doctor had chosen the moment carefully. During a break so Antonin wouldn’t have to miss his training or any races … more than he already did. Soon enough so that the flowers could still be taken away, but not to soon. Not to soon to scared Antonin than he already was. Giving him enough time to get over the idea of losing the love he was feeling.

Antonin had gone to the different appointment, Vetle following him without ever judging him. At one point they had even started seeing the same doctors and having back-to-back appointment. It was easier that way, and the doctor had approved of it. Saying something about how meaningful and important it was to create new attachments during this hard time for them.

Vetle had smiled kindly, while Antonin had done his best not to laugh.

They both knew that no matter how hard they liked each other and supported each other, this “attachment” would never be stronger than the love they both felt. Vetle hadn’t started coughing flowers yet, or if he had he was hiding it quite well. The doctor certainly hadn’t given him a date yet. Or if he had, Vetle had chosen to hide it. Just like he had hidden who was the cause of his disease. Really, Vetle had been a huge support during these times. He had been even a bigger one when Antonin had decided to refuse the operation. When he had decided to call his doctor to tell him he wouldn’t be getting the operation during the winter break. It had been just before the races in Le Grand Bornand.

Antonin had thought a lot about it, about what he would leave behind if he was to die tomorrow. He would leave almost nothing, no victory, no Olympics medals, no wife or husband, no kids. Sure, people would be sad, Vetle would be…devastated because he knew about Antonin’s condition. It wasn’t a good option, and it wasn’t like Antonin wanted to die. He was in pain, he had been in pain for the last month, but it’s not like he wanted to die.

He had thought about the other option. Waking up during the Christmas break, feeling only emptiness while thinking about Simon. Feeling nothing while looking at the other man, while seeing his bright smile, while observing the way his hands moved when he was talking about things he loved, the way they were moving when he was working on a riffle…All these memories, all these moments they had share and that they might never share again would only be numb for him. He could have accepted it, if it had been anyone else than Simon.

But he couldn’t bear to look at Simon like that. Not after all these years, not with how essential Simon had been in his life since before he had barely been a man or a biathlete.

He didn’t have anything to leave behind if he was to die tomorrow, except his love for Simon. That was the only thing he had, after all these years. The only thing that truly mattered for him. He couldn’t get rid of it…he couldn’t get rid of what was left of Simon in his life.

It had been a hard revelation to have. The revelation that loving Simon meant so much for him that he would actually accept to die for it. That he would wait for the flowers to choke him to death rather than get rid of the warmth and pain his love for Simon was giving him.

Vetle hadn’t agreed with him. But he had supported him still, making sure he still took his medicine, making sure he had everything he needed or wanted. Making sure to be here for him, to be his only true friend in this hard time. Antonin wasn’t sure how Vetle could do it. Look at him that was suffering so much while never running away. While never giving up because Antonin was still a hard reminded of what would happen to him. Of how lonely and in pain he would end up if he was refusing to get rid of the flowers when they appeared…if they hadn’t appeared yet.

Antonin knew there was no more hope for him. But he truly hoped there was some for Vetle. That the man Vetle loved would love him back at one point, get him out of the cruel and mortal embrace of the roots that were in his lungs. When Vetle had left to race the mass start on Sunday while Antonin hadn’t been able to, he had thought about that while giving a hug to Vetle. Thought about how Vetle would soon be left alone in his pain and sickness.

It wasn’t like he would…die…tomorrow. But he would soon, no matter how hard it still was to use that word. The fully formed flowers in his hand is proof enough of that. His body hadn’t chosen the easiest flower to throw up. It was many small flowers shaped like a heart, linked by a small branch. Antonin hadn’t counted the number of times he had almost choked on the branches more than the flowers. He never took the time to look at the flowers’ name. It wasn’t like he needed to know it really, what the flowers his body had linked to Simon meant. Yet, he still kept these flowers in a small vase. It was certainly weird, and how Vetle had looked at him with disappointment when he had seen it meant it was certainly bad. Still, Antonin felt some sort of weird fascination towards the flowers that were killing him. These flowers that were just like love, beautiful and shaped like a heart, yet still killing him from the inside.

He was looking at the flowers when someone knocked at his door. It couldn’t be Vetle or any of his teammates, as the race was going to start soon. Maybe someone from the staff? It would be the most rational option, that someone from the team was coming to see if he was feeling well.

Yet, there was a strange feeling creeping on Antonin’s back. A strange intuition that was telling him it wasn’t someone from the team. A strange intuition that was telling him that something terrible was going to happen. He opened the door slowly, trying his best to calm his negative thoughts.

It couldn’t be that bad after all, right?

Simon was at the other side of the door. He looked at Antonin softly, letting out a breath as if he was surprised to see Antonin. Which made no sense, considering he had knocked on his door purposefully.

“Antonin. It’s been so long, you look…” Simon started, looking at Antonin with attention. He stopped in his sentence, his eyes hovering over Antonin’s pale face. Simon didn’t have to say anything, Antonin knew what he was thinking. You look sick, just like a dying man was certainly what he wanted to say. But he couldn’t say that to one of his closest friends. Especially after so many months without seeing each other.

“Are you okay? Should you be out of your bed right now?” Simon asked worryingly, with a softness that was making Antonin’s heart clench and putting his lungs on fire. Antonin looked at him for a second, unable to answer. He was too scared flowers might come out of his mouth right now. Too scared of ruining everything by letting Simon know he was unwell…very seriously unwell, more than anything Simon could even guess. Antonin took a step back, unsure how to let Simon know he couldn’t bear seeing him right now. That it was too painful for him, almost deadly really.

Simon must have taken his step back in another way because he entered the bedroom, just like he had done so many times before while they were roommates. It made something ache in Antonin’s chest, thinking back about these happy times they had shared together. Thinking back to when Simon was here for him. It was a familiar ache now, one he had gotten used to. Wasn’t it what he had chosen to keep, after all? That ache he felt while thinking back to them? Thinking back to what they had shared? Thinking back to Simon.

It wasn’t like he had kept love after all. It wasn’t like there had ever been love there, right? Yet, he hadn’t even found the strength to get ride of the ache and regrets, of the “what could have been?”.

“I’ve been missing you, you know? It’s so strange, not having you close after all these years together.” Simon said softly while looking around the room. Antonin tried his best to hide the cough that was overtaking him. It wasn’t the right moment to throw up another flower really. Simon was here and realistically speaking…it would certainly be the last time Antonin ever saw him.

It was terrifying to think about that. Antonin had thought about dying before, he had done so a lot when he had started coughing blood, when the flowers had become his regular roommates. But he had never thought about a potential last meeting with Simon. He had always tried his best to keep Simon away from these thoughts, partially because he was scared thinking of him would worsen his condition.

Mostly because he’d rather not think about not seeing Simon again. He’d rather not think about leaving Simon behind, even if the other man had left him behind first. 

“Our friendship always meant so much for me, yet I never thought I would miss it so much. That I would miss you so much. I’ve been busy yet I find myself thinking about you way more than I should.” Simon said softly, as if he wasn’t totally sure of his own words. It was weird to see him unsure like that…It was weirder to hear him utters such words.

Simon had been his friend for a long time. But he had never spoken like that, not about Antonin at least. He had never even implied to be missing Antonin before. Maybe because they never had the occasion of missing each other before, considering they were always together. Maybe because it was new, Antonin couldn’t be sure. What he was sure of was the overwhelming pain he was feeling right now. Pain that was growing with each steps Simon was taking into the room, that was growing with each occurrence of the word friendship. He swallowed the flowers that were threatening to leave his throat as best as he could, wincing from the pain of it. It felt like he was swallowing hundred needles, like his throat was bleeding from the inside. His mouth was filled with the taste of blood, and Antonin tried his best to breathe despite that, despite how painful everything was. Despite how painful Simon’s proximity was. Simon turned towards him, as if he was waiting for an answer and Antonin nodded despite having no idea what Simon was talking about. It couldn’t have been very important anyway, certainly something about his restaurant or his wife. There must have been something traitorous in his eyes, something that Simon had seen because his eyes became kinder than they already were…and more worried too.

“Are you sure you’re okay Anto?” Simon asked worryingly and Antonin did his best to swallow all the pain and the flowers. He nodded weakly, trying his best to form a sincere smile. Simon’s last memory of him shouldn’t be of him wincing from the pain and despair. It should be a beautiful memory, just as beautiful as their friendship had been before Antonin had ruined it with his one-sided feeling and his sickness. He wanted Simon to remember his smile, his laughter, the beautiful hope they had shared during their career…Nothing else than that.

It seemed like Simon wanted to say something, but he stopped suddenly, tilting his head to something behind Antonin.

“I didn’t know you had developed a passion for flowers.” Simon said with curiosity, walking towards what was behind Antonin. Antonin didn’t have to turn to know that Simon was walking towards the filled vase that had been carefully place on his drawer. He was frozen in place, unable to move as Simon started speaking again.

“These are Bleeding Heart. Beautiful flowers, but also very sad flowers.” Simon paused for a second, and Antonin didn’t have the heart to look at him. Didn’t have the strength in his dying body to look at the man he loves holding the flowers of his feelings. The flowers that were both his heartbreak and his demise. He was sure the flowers were certainly beautiful, touched carefully by Simon’s expert hands. He was sure Simon was even more beautiful, he had always been shining around flowers after all. It was certainly very ironic, Simon looking at these flowers with attention and care while they were killing Antonin silently. It was certainly even more ironic that this was how he was going to die. From a sickness that was so much like what Simon loved. Beautiful, inoffensive and shaped like a flower.

He would have laughed about it, if he could do so without spitting blood.

Antonin turned towards Simon, observing the man he loves carefully. It would be his last time with him, it was better to engrave each moment into his mind. Like that he would have something beautiful to think about during his last moments. Something beautiful like Simon holding flowers. Holding his flowers…Maybe in his last moments he could even pretend Simon had guessed his feeling then. That he had reciprocated them. That he had kissed Antonin’s bloodied mouth while holding the source of his pain.

“They are the flowers of unconditional love, you know? But also, the flower of heartbreak and sadness. The name suggests that the unconditional love is often…lost or unrequited.” Antonin smiled softly despite the tears in his eyes. It was indeed a beautiful picture, Simon holding his flowers like that. It was almost worth the pain of it all to see Simon like that again, to see him so passionate and entranced and…so close. There must have been something in his smile, or maybe in the resignation that wasn’t leaving his eyes, because Simon looked at him for a long moment. As if he was trying to understand something, as if something was bothering him.

He looked at Antonin, then at the flowers and something seemed to click in his mind.

“Antonin? Are these…” he started asking, his voice filled with fear.

“They’re my bleeding heart.” Antonin muttered slowly, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the blood he couldn’t help but cough suddenly. He hadn’t meant for it to go that way, but there had been a shocked understanding written on Simon’s face. Even if he hadn’t said anything his friend would have known. Because no matter how unrequited his feelings were, Simon was still his friend. He still knew him, knew each of his expression, knew even the things Antonin would rather hide…Except for the most important thing he had hidden.

“I’m truly happy you find them beautiful. They are for you” Antonin added and there was nothing else but pain and resignation on his mind. That’s how he was going to die, from the pain of loving too much. But at least he knew Simon loved his flowers, even if he didn’t love him.

He closed his eyes, hoping not seeing the other man would make the pain more bearable. He expected a rejection, or panic from Simon. He didn’t expect the familiar arms that come around his shoulder, holding him strongly. Maybe he was dying sooner than he had expected. Maybe Simon’s presence was too much for his sick body. Maybe death has been kind enough to embrace him like Simon used to.

“Antonin?” Simon’s voice was barely audible, and Antonin couldn’t help the smile that came on his pained face. Simon was here. He was here for him, finally.

“Antonin…hear me…love…” Antonin couldn’t hear Simon’s words when he lost conscience. Maybe it was the most painful crisis he ever had because it was the last one. Or maybe it was because Simon was holding him, reminding his sick body of what he could never have.

Flowers will bloom, they will, they will

For you who are yet to be born

Flowers will bloom, they will, they will

Oh, what did I leave in this world?

Flowers will bloom, they will, they will

For you who are yet to be born

Flowers will bloom, they will, they will

For you who will someday know love

Death was different than what Antonin had expected. It wasn’t painless or quiet. It was full of noise, full of the pain that had become his closest companion. There were beeping noise, and the horrible sensation of something in his throat. A sensation that was even more present than what he had been used to in the last months.

If the disease had followed him in death he would actually cry. Was it such an unfair disease that even death couldn’t make the pain of unreciprocated love disappear?

The sounds got more and more vibrant around him. He could hear voices too, familiar voices. Death was really not like he had expected it. He tried to move, trying to see if he still had a body at that point. After all, if there was still pain maybe there was still a body.

“He moved, didn’t he?” a young familiar voice asked, way too loud to Antonin’s liking. The pain he felt in his body filled his head, giving him a strong headache. Way too strong to be dead, unless there were also headaches in death. He tried to open his eyes, wincing because of the bright light. His eyes took a few second to acclimate to the light, and when they finally did Antonin could only see a white bright ceiling. He moved his eyes around, trying to see more of what he knows couldn’t be an afterlife. The room was white and bare, clinical. It was easy to see even despite the pain that it was a hospital room. He turned his head towards the other side of the room, where he could still hear some voices. Eric was here, as was Quentin. He couldn’t help but see that Simon wasn’t here. He tried to talk, to ask about him despite the pain in his whole body but he couldn’t speak. Eric came closer to him, letting a reassuring hand fall on his shoulders.

“Don’t try to speak. You have a tube in your throat to help you breathe. We…almost lost you there Anto.” Eric’s voice was small and scared, and Antonin really wanted to move his hand to reassure him. He was the oldest, he should be reassuring the youngest of the team. He should be reassuring his friend. But his body seemed unable to truly move yet.

“Vetle told us about your…sickness. When you left in the ambulance he came to us, saying he felt guilty of not telling any of us earlier.”

Antonin couldn’t help but be deeply sorry for Vetle. The man had done nothing but help him during these horrible months, and now he was feeling guilty. He hadn’t told anyone because Antonin had asked him to do so. Had asked him to keep all of it a secret. When he had spent his time going to the doctor Vetle had been the one coming with him, telling him morbid jokes about their situation, about how the pills would maybe make them better biathlete. He had been the one threating Antonin normally despite his sickness, the only one not looking at him with confusion or fear. He had seen the way the others had started looking at him when he had started seeing the doctors so often. When he had refused to tell them why. When he had started coughing blood regularly.

Vetle had always been nice to him, despite his own pain.

“Are you still with me Anto?”

Anto nodded as best as he could, trying not to choke around the tube in his throat. Eric smiled softly, and Antonin tried very hard to ignore how his young eyes were shinning with tears.

“Good. The doctors say something about “needing to remove the flowers soon”. But Vetle told us you wouldn’t like it at all.”

Antonin nodded once again. It wasn’t that he didn’t like that idea. It was that he couldn’t live with it. Couldn’t live knowing he wouldn’t love Simon again. Knowing he would only feel a strange emptiness while looking at the man he loves. It was silly really, how he couldn’t get rid of these feeling that were killing him. How even at the brink of death he couldn’t think about putting Simon aside, forgetting the love he had felt for him during years.

“We are not letting you die, no matter how stupid you decided to be until now. Sim…He is getting into this room. If things don’t go well, you’re getting these flowers removed or otherwise I will personally take care of it.” Eric soft voice had been replaced by Quentin’s firm voice. Antonin almost wanted to laugh but he couldn’t do that properly right now. He knew that Quentin’s empty threat is a sign of worry. Still, a small part of him was almost afraid of what the other man could do. Who knew with him. Quentin looked at him, waiting for him to nod. Antonin couldn’t bring himself to do so. He looked at Quentin, hoping his eyes were enough for the younger man to understand. Quentin sighed softly before looking at Eric.

“I swear to god when he gets better, I will personally kick his ass.” Quentin angry voice couldn’t really hide his sadness or his fear. He put his hand on Eric shoulders in a reassuring and comforting move. Eric seemed stuck in place, unable to move from Antonin’s bedside. Antonin would smile reassuringly if he could, the youngest of their team really deserves better than that pain. The pain of seeing someone he likes in that state. Quentin grabbed his shoulder with more strength, making Eric turns towards him.

“We need to leave the two of them alone, if we want Antonin to get better.”

Somehow, the idea of being alone with Simon didn’t appeal that much to Antonin right now. He could feel the pain in his body coming back just at the idea. He wasn’t really sure his body could support another crisis right now. Quentin and Eric left the room, their comforting presence soon replaced by another one. The man he loves entered the room, and all Antonin could feel was pain. That would be sad, if pain wasn’t what he had been feeling for the last five months of his life.

Simon entered in silence, coming to sit next to Antonin’s bed. His hand came to rest on Antonin’s bed, and for a second it felt like he might take Antonin’s hand. His hand twitched and he put it down on the bed again.

“I’m not sure where to start Anto.” Were the first words that left his mouth after a few minutes of silence. Antonin wished he could start, he wished he could tell the other man to leave. To leave him with his unreciprocated love. Because maybe it was still better than rejection. Unreciprocated love meant it might by reciprocated at one point. But rejection? Rejection was definitive. Maybe Antonin was a coward for thinking that way. But at this point he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I didn’t imagine the two of us having that conversation like that. Or here. Or even having it one day at all.”

Simon took a deep breathe before talking again.

“I’ve left the team because of you.”

Well. Antonin could feel the pain in his body this time, but he knew it wasn’t due to the disease. It was certainly due to heartbreak. Something must have shifted on his face because Simon went on immediately.

“Not in that way! Fuck, why is it so hard to say…” Simon mumbled softly, clenching his fist against the bed.

“I left because… I was confused. My wife had given birth to a beautiful kid. She had been supporting me for so many years. She had stopped her career so that we could have a family life…”

Antonin truly wished his legs could work now, because he had the irresistible urge to leave the room by the window. Hearing the man he loves talk about his wife was even more painful than the crisis he had earlier.

“Yet, the only person I could think about was you.” Simon’s voice was full of devotion, but also full of shame as he says so. Antonin looked at him, not sure he was understanding the situation.

“I’ve always like you a little bit too much. Too much for it to be said, too much for it to be okay. But when I got with Celia, I thought it had finally gone away. All these strange thoughts and feelings about you.”

A long silence filled the room before Simon spoke again.

“They never truly did. And somewhere along the way Celia understood it. I wanted to be a good man, I wanted to be…like everyone else. So, we had a child, and I promised to try harder to get over you.”

Antonin wanted to scream. He wanted to ask for more explanation. Was Simon telling him that he had liked him? That he still did? Was it Simon’s way to deal with the guilt of seeing Antonin in that sorry state. Was it a weird set up to try to heal him?

“I didn’t get over you. Not all these years ago. Not after my retirement either. You were just always here, everything reminded me of you. I wanted to be with you, whether it was in retirement or not. I just wanted to be with you.” There were tears rolling down Simon’s face now. Antonin desperately wanted to comfort him, even with the horrible pain and confusion he felt.

“I’m sorry Antonin. Me wanting to be normal has caused … this” Simon said while pointing his hand towards the ventilator helping him breathe. Simon’s hand didn’t go back on the bed after this small move. It came down on Antonin’s hand, holding it with care as if Antonin might break.

“I love your silly jokes. I love the way you make any room brighter by your presence. I love the way you made me smile each day for so many years. I love all the little things you do. How you smile reassuringly even when you feel down, how you always help those you love. How you always protect them.”

Simon was smiling softly through the tears. He took Antonin’s hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it softly.

“What I’m desperately trying to say is I love you Antonin. I’ve loved you during all these years. I never stopped loving you, and I’m quite sure I never will.”

Antonin wasn’t sure he heard right. He must have died earlier, and all of this was happening in his sick mind. Because there was no way Simon loves him. Yet, he couldn’t help but notice how some of his pain seemed to calm down. How his stomach fluttered with the right butterfly this time. How his body already felt a bit lighter. His lungs still seemed full, but Vetle had always said that if they were to “get better” the flowers in the lungs would be the last to leave. He truly wanted to believe what Simon was saying. He truly wanted to, but some part of his mind couldn’t stop thinking about Simon’s wife.

“I’ve already talk to Celia” Simon said, as if he had read his mind. “I’ve told her it wasn’t working. That we had tried everything, both of us. But that my heart would always belong to you, no matter how hard I tried to deny it. We broke up in October, and she was the one that convince me to come to Le Grand Bornand. She really wants me to be finally truly happy, even if’s it with you.”

Antonin felt tears filling his eyes. It all seemed so … real. Maybe it was real.

“The doctors said you would need time for the pain to go away. For all the flowers to leave. Even if I were to love you, because the body always need time to heal. But… if you’d like it you can heal with me. We can go home together. Stay together like we were supposed to.”

Antonin nodded weakly and softly through the tears. He wished he could speak right now, to tell Simon how he feels. How unreal it all felt, to finally get what he wanted. To finally be loved.

“I’ll go look for the doctor, I’m sure they need to take care of you… And I’m also sure Eric, Quentin and Vetle are waiting for me outside the door and that they’ll barge in soon if I don’t go out.”

Simon stood and hesitated for a second before getting closer to the bed. He looked at Antonin’s face for a second before kissing his forehead.

“I’ll be right here until we can leave together. I love you Anto.”

Somehow, Simon made this sentence sound like a promise. Antonin closed his eyes, enjoying the fact that Simon wouldn’t leave him this time. That Simon loved him. Him, little silly Antonin and the bloody flowers coming out of his mouth.

Sometimes life felt like a dream to Antonin. He joked about that with Vetle, saying maybe it was the lack of pain making him delirious, or that maybe he had truly died that day in the hospital. Vetle always said the same thing, the same soft and kind answer Antonin never really felt like he deserved.

“Maybe it’s because the last months had been a nightmare for you. That's why all of it being behind and finally getting what you deserved feel like a dream.” Vetle always said so with a knowing voice. Antonin wasn’t sure what had happened to Vetle after his hospitalization. When he had truly been able to go out of the hospital after his body felt less like dying, almost two weeks had passed. Vetle hadn’t visited during that time, and Antonin had been sure it was because of the guilt he still felt over Antonin going to the urgency. Maybe it had been for something else, Antonin couldn’t be sure but he didn’t dare to ask. He knew that one day, Vetle would speak about what happened, that he would trust Antonin just like Antonin had trusted him.

Antonin was sure of one thing. Vetle hadn’t needed to go to the hospital for his Hanahaki disease. He had continued biathlon when Antonin couldn’t because of the remaining sickness. Which could only mean one thing: the love Vetle had felt wasn’t unrequited. Some days Antonin wondered about it, about who Vetle loved, about how all of it had resolved itself while he was away. Maybe during the break, he could invite Vetle here. Maybe Vetle would come with the one his heart had chosen.

“You should be resting, love.” Simon’s voice interrupted his thoughts and Antonin turned towards him. His boyfriend was beautiful standing at the door of their house like that, his face illuminated by the sun that was barely rising. Antonin took the time to admire him, to enjoy each subtle lines of his face.

“You’re beautiful.” He only answered, ignoring Simon’s concern. Simon smiled softly, walking toward him. Antonin felt a chill go through his body, and he knew it wasn’t the cold air of February that was making him shiver. It was Simon’s presence. Even after all these years, even after all this time. Being in love made it easy to always be touched by Simon’s presence. Almost dying because of this love made it even easier. He shook his head quickly, trying to get that out of his head. His psychologist had told him that these thoughts were normal, but that he also needed to learn to ignore them to be able to live with the near death experience that the Hanahaki disease had been.

“You say that to me every day, Anto.” Simon chuckled softly and Antonin smiled at him. Of a bright smile he had started to find back after leaving the hospital. A bright smile that felt more real than any other smile he had ever given. Now that he was with Simon everything felt more real, everything felt more right.

“Because it’s true every day Simon.” He simply answered. He knew he was being cheesy but after all, they hadn’t been together for that long. And even if they had been, Antonin wasn’t sure he would ever stop being cheesy towards Simon. He hadn’t considered himself to be a cheesy man before, but having a sickness linked to unsaid feelings had certainly change a lot of things. Having Simon had also certainly changed a lot of things too.

Simon came to sit next to him on the small wooden bench they had put into their garden. The garden wasn’t done yet, and it wasn’t a perfect landscape like those you might see in the movie. There were no flowers here yet, because Antonin was still a bit touchy around flowers. A bit scared, as if flowers were a bad omen. Yet, it was still the most beautiful place right now for Antonin, because Simon was here. He took Simon’s hand, clinging to it with strength. What he would have given months ago, to hold Simon’s hand while enjoying the beginning of his day.

You would have given your life, an ugly voice murmured in his head, and Antonin knew it was right. He knew what he was ready to give, even only for the hopeless dream of loving Simon. Even for a one-sided love. It still made something hurt in Antonin’s chest, thinking back to all that, to the pain and…

Simon interrupted his thought with a soft kiss. Even if it was far from the first, it still felt like the first kiss to Antonin. Burning and loving, yet so calm and serene. Just like Simon. Antonin moved his free hand to graze Simon’s cheek softly, just to make sure the other man was truly here. That he was truly his. A few months ago, when they had truly kissed for the first time, Antonin had clinched Simon almost desperately. He had needed to make sure it was real, that their kiss was real. He still needed that reassurance sometimes, even if it was less desperate. Simon smiled in the kiss, chuckling softly while moving away.

“Hmm don’t stop.” Antonin pouted slowly and Simon chuckled even more.

“I’ll kiss you again if you get inside. The cold could hurt your lungs, you know.”

“If I get inside…can I get more than one kiss.” He negotiated half-jokingly and Simon looked at him with a beautiful smile. One that promised more than a kiss, one that promised many moments together. Antonin would have said Simon’s smile promised a lifetime of love and happiness, but he knew he was certainly being too in love while thinking that. Right now he would settle for many moments together, after all the years it had taken for them to get together even many moments together sounder like eternity.

“Of course, you’ll get more than one kiss, Anto. You can get as many kisses as you want…Once you get back inside.” Simon answered, and his tone was still serious despite his smile. He still took Antonin’s health very seriously…certainly because he felt partially responsible for the sickness that Antonin had suffered from. And therefore, partially responsible for the consequences he still suffered from.

Antonin found it very cute, even if he couldn’t understand why Simon felt guilty. He hadn’t cursed Antonin with that sickness after all, neither had he forced him to almost die with his feelings. Still, it was cute to see Simon so worried and concerned for him. It was the sign of a love Antonin had almost died for after all.

“Alright alright, I’ll go back inside. Just…5 more minutes please, I want to enjoy the sun with you.”

Simon smiled and really, Antonin could have gone back inside and enjoy the sun because Simon’s smile was as bright as the sun itself.

“I love you, you know.” Simon said after a few minutes of silence, his hand subtly shaking over Antonin’s hand.

Despite how many times Simon had told him, Antonin would never grow tired of these three words. His heart still beat faster every time Simon pronounce them. Not in the uncomfortable and pained way his heart had beaten for so many months, but in a beautiful and lovely way. One he only felt around Simon.

“I love you too, Simon. More than anything.” He answered truthfully, enjoying how these words sounded out loud. He wasn’t sure an entire lifetime would be enough for him to get used to that. Get used to saying those three words to Simon out loud, without feeling any pain or without any flowers and blood getting in the way. But he was willing to say these words over and over, until the day he couldn’t.