Chapter Text
Chuuya had been feeling out of it since the morning. He figured it was nothing, though. It was normal for him to feel aches and pains, either from scars that haven't healed or new ones. He could've just felt tired, and sore… The possibilities were endless.
Hirotsu bows his head front of him and begins to hand him the new files and documents he requested yesterday. “Mori-san wanted to remind you of the mandatory check-up in the infirmary, this month. It happens at 10 o’ clock, so please remember this.”
Chuuya sifts through the papers, reading them over briefly. “Yes, yes, I will. I only forgot to go once, gramps. No need to go ahead and remind me.”
“You forgot to go three months in a row, Chuuya-san.”
“We—“ He pauses, mouth suddenly dry. Hirotsu arches a brow, “Chuuya-san?” he opens his mouth to say ‘I’m fine’ but nothing comes out. His words are stuck in his throat, and there's a burning in his chest.
He inelegantly keels over his desk and coughs, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the boss?” He clasps his hand over his mouth, still coughing. He raises his hand and waves Hirotsu off. Chuuya looks up and bites down on his lip, [ You— You don't need to— Please leave, Hirotsu—] He mouths, not even a peep coming from him.
Hirotsu reluctantly leaves the room, already pressing his burner phone into his ear.
[God damn it.] He coughs into his hand, feeling something land on his palm.
Blood drips down his chin and down his hand, and he stares down at an abundance of tiny flowers, stray petals falling onto the floor.
In his hand, there's a purple lilac, covered in his own sanguine.
[…What the fuck?] He flips his hand over, letting it slip off and settle on his lap. His phone rings, and he picks up. He tries to talk, but again, only silence comes out. “Chuuya-kun, come up to my office please.” Mori says, right before ending the call.
He plucks out the petals on his tongue and wipes his blood off with a tissue, fighting of the urge to vomit. Chuuya walks out and closes the door, heaving the whole way to the elevator. He clicks the button that sends him to the boss’s office. He presses his mouth into the tissue he carries with him, choking on what he knows now are flowers.
As soon as he steps into Mori's office, the boss greets him with a slightly… unnerving smirk.
“…”
“Chuuya-kun, I’m sure you know why you’re here.” He begins, eyes narrowing as he laces his fingers together. Elise rummages through paper and crayons, humming to herself in the corner. [I—] He tries to say, but he can’t really speak. Or make a noise. Or even stay focused on anything else that’s not fighting off the urge to throw up.
“…Hanahaki disease is an extremely rare thing to see, Chuuya. Do you even know what it is?”
Worst of all, he sounds fucking amused.
He shakes his head.
“It only ever happens in ability users, and that’s why it’s practcally unheard of by the general public. It occurs when a person…” Mori pauses, thinking about what to say next. Then, Elise throws the paper sheets at her knees away, yawning. “It’s when you like a person and you can’t have ‘em!”
[…Huh?]
“Elise-channn, this conversation is for adults only!” His boss whines, and Elise ‘hmph’s’. “Ah, but what she said is correct. It's when a person falls in love with another, one who is unattainable. Normally, it doesn’t even manifest, but a brief study I conducted years ago showed that the stronger the feelings the patient feels for that person— any emotion, happiness, sadness, anger— can make it even more likely to materialize. Now, Hanahaki only manifests in at least eight to ten years, which really begs the question—“
Paper crinkles, and Chuuya's throat constricts.
“Who did you fall in love with, Chuuya-kun?” Mori asks, drumming his fingers over his desk patiently. He can’t help but curse at whatever gods up in the sky thought it would be funny to fuck him over like this.
He clenches his hands into fists by his side, looking up at Mori.
[I think you already know the answer, boss.]
Much to his chagrin, the corner of his eyes lift up into a satisfied grin. “Hanahaki, if not treated, will lead to death.”
[And how do you treat it?]
“…The person the patient loves must reciprocate the love the patient has for them, whether by giving them a kiss or a simple ‘I love you’. A flower blooms around the person’s heart and grows and grows and grows, and squeezes. Not even surgery can fix it, unfortunately. It’s the only way.”
Ah.
Guess he’s not going to die in the midst of an epic battle, huh?
…Fuck-shit.