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They say they don’t know when it started.
It’s a weird disease, in everyone’s opinion. They think it started via a curse from a witch, though they’ve never been able to find the magic for the cure. Maybe it’s because they hunted those witches too near extinction, or maybe it's because they guessed wrong.
But hope is not lost, not these days at least. The surgery works, but it’s not for free. Removing the plants that are so woven inside of you, your physical devotion incarnate, removes that person from you too.
You’re saved, you’re alive, but is it worth the price?
Wonwoo doesn’t think so.
Wonwoo’s been sick for months, even if he’s been trying to hide it. He’s not very good at it, suddenly carrying a black handkerchief and rushing to the bathroom when he starts to wheeze and splutter.
Wonwoo is dying and he won’t fix it.
And look, he gets it. Unrequited love sucks enough as it is, but to love someone so much that it takes on a physical form is insane to start with. But then to have to choose to lose not only that love but that person entirely? Oh it’s definitely difficult.
He knows that first hand now.
“Soonyoung? You okay?” Wonwoo calls through the door and Soonyoung just wants to know what sick and twisted God laughed as they placed the seedling in his chest.
There, in the palm of his hand, is a crumpled up, saliva covered poppy. Soonyoung would read into it more if he cared. Instead, he flushes it down the toilet like he does his hopes and dreams.
How do you forget someone you’ve known since childhood?
“Fine,” he calls back, moving to wash his hands and pretend that everything is normal. “I’m fine.”
He only wishes it was true.
❀
“Wonwoo’s in love with Seungcheol,” Soonyoung says blankly, on the off hand really, and he ignores how Jihoon turns his head so slowly it feels as though he should hear a rusty creak with the movement.
“Why are you telling me?” Jihoon asks and Soonyoung can’t blame him. Telling someone that their friend is in love with their boyfriend isn’t the coolest thing to do, but Soonyoung figures he’s allowed to this time.
“‘Cuz he has Hanahaki and I need to talk to someone about it.”
The air is silent and thick between them, Jihoon’s mouth open in shocked surprise as he tries to understand what’s just been said to him. Soonyoung just continues to stare off into the middle distance.
“I’m guessing he’s refusing treatment.” Jihoon’s voice is low and dampened, like rain on the roof of a funeral home. Soonyoung finds it in himself to shrug.
“Yeah.”
They’re quiet for a while, letting the words sink in between them, before Jihoon asks the million dollar question.
“How’re you taking it?”
It’s that moment that Soonyoung’s body betrayed him and he starts to choke, wheezing around the blockage in his throat that he’s desperate to clear. Jihoon seems to panic, flitting around Soonyoung heroically as he continues to cough. That is until he freezes, but Soonyoung can’t think about it too hard when his body’s focus is to try to survive.
Eventually Soonyoung is able to breathe again, and as his teary eyes flutter open, he sees exactly why Jihoon’s stopped.
On the floor between them lies a few poppies.
“As you can see,” Soonyoung tries, his voice scratchy and spent and far too dull to carry the joke, “not very well.”
Jihoon just hugs him, seemingly not knowing what else to do. Soonyoung lets it happen.
❀
“You told Cheol on me?!” The words are flung at him the second he’s in the door, and Soonyoung really doesn’t want to do this right now. He’s exhausted beyond belief all the time now as that poppy in his chest tries to suck him dry, and dance lessons on top of it has left him ready to collapse like an exhausted Sim. Who knew life became so hard when you couldn’t breathe.
“I didn’t.” It’s the truth after all. Sure, he didn’t tell Jihoon not to tell, but he still didn’t do it.
“Then how else did he find out there are flowers in my lungs?!”
Soonyoung sighs heavily, looking up at Wonwoo with what he’s sure is a blank stare. “How did I find out?” He asks him, a reminder of a few weeks ago when Soonyoung’s suspicions were confirmed. “You’re not great at hiding it.”
But I am, his mind adds casually, and with a flabbergasted Wonwoo staring after him, Soonyoung just goes to his room.
He coughs up a few more flowers and is asleep before his head hits the pillow.
❀
Wonwoo eventually senses something is off. It takes longer than Soonyoung expects if he’s honest, it takes until every time Soonyoung clears his throat he’s forced to swallow down stray flowers.
Besides, Wonwoo’s practically on bed rest at this point. He’s winded whenever he moves and they’re talking about putting him on oxygen, but all it will do is prolong the inevitable. The daffodils in his chest are greedy and soon there will be nothing left for them to take. At least, nothing left living.
“Are you okay? You look sick.”
Soonyoung hums, ignoring how he feels so cold despite how he knows he has a fever. “I’m fine,” he mumbles, certain that a flower has just worked its way up his throat. He has half the mind to snark at Wonwoo, something like just caught what you had or stop sharing your germs, jerkface, but he can’t. The love he’s been carrying for his best friend has morphed into this sad sort of quiet love, swathed in grief despite how Wonwoo isn’t dead. He’s dying though, and it’s killing Soonyoung to have to see.
“Maybe you should stay home today,” Wonwoo tries and though it pulls on Soonyoung’s heartstrings he still somehow manages to shoot him a look.
“Can’t afford to not be paid.”
Wonwoo doesn’t offer an argument, nor does he offer anything when Soonyoung shoots him a soft goodbye.
It’s not a good sign that the petal in his throat seems sticky with blood. Then again, none of it is really a good sign.
❀
“I know Wonwoo is refusing treatment,” Jihoon says as he keeps his eyes off of Soonyoung and his freshly bloodied lips, “but are you?”
Soonyoung takes a deep breath, one that trembles and sounds sort of hollow, but it’s as deep as he can get it. “While he’s still here, yeah.”
Jihoon winces, reaching out to take Soonyoung’s hand. “Do you want me to make you a Forget Me Not?”
It’s a cute silly little name that some either sick bastard or grieving fool came up with. Especially for a book of such nature, but then again Soonyoung is being choked by plants that do not care that his love is dying, that want him to die too. A sort of tacky scrap book about the best friend he’ll be forced to forget isn’t the worst thing in the world.
Especially since you can’t get flowers for someone who’s dead.
“If you’d be willing.”
Jihoon squeezes his hand. Soonyoung just ignores how out of character it seems.
❀
“Wonwoo, please,” a voice begs when he walks into his apartment, and Soonyoung has half the mind to walk back out. “Forget about me. I’m not worth your life.”
Soonyoung doesn’t have a chance to slip out before there’s a hand on his bicep, Jihoon’s watery eyes staring at him. “They’ve been like this for hours,” he whispers, his voice gravely as tears begin to fall. “Neither will budge.”
Soonyoung’s sigh turns into a cough, and he crushes the bloody flowers in his hand.
“What else do you expect?” Soonyoung sounds so dull and drained, the exact opposite of his normal personality. He supposes suffocating slowly to death is cause enough for the change, shuffling into the apartment and only shooting a glance at the sickly Wonwoo.
“Soonyoung-” Wonwoo tries before he’s coughing and gagging and making the most atrocious sounds, bloody daffodils covering the blanket in his lap. He weirdly looks like Bella in Breaking Dawn: Part 1, and the thought makes Soonyoung sick.
“There’s no use fighting Cheol,” Soonyoung says flatly. “He’s made his choice.”
Seungcheol looks like he’s just been slapped, his eyes wide and his body tense, a fight and rage boiling inside him. Soonyoung just can’t seem to care. He’s just so tired.
“I’ll be in mine,” he mumbles, swallowing back petals as he makes his way to his room, locking his door before he heaves a mountain of poppies into his trash can. Tears stream down his cheeks as he curls around the thing, the poppies flooding out of him in a wave of toxic grief.
It’s there, curled up around a trash can and leaning against his bed, that Soonyong finds himself falling asleep.
❀
Wonwoo gets taken to the hospital the next day.
Jihoon moves in.
Soonyoung continues to choke.
❀
“I brought you food,” Soonyoung mumbles, his mother’s Secret Soup for the Sick in his hands. He refuses to look at Wonwoo, look at the man who is fading away in front of him, and instead just slides the container onto the table beside him. “If you don’t eat it, just tell my mom you loved it.”
Wonwoo makes a soft noise but Soonyoung ignores him. He hasn’t really been able to visit him well.
To see someone you love die in this kind of way, to choose their feelings while those same ones are killing you, well. It’s got him fucked up more than anything, really. And that’s saying a lot.
“Soonyoung,” Wonwoo whispers, but for him these days that’s a scream.
“I can’t,” Soonyoung says as he shakes his head, turning around so that Wonwoo can’t see the tears nor the petals peeking out from his throat.
“Soonyoung please,” Wonwoo begs, but Soonyoung shakes his head again. There’s a soft sigh, probably all that he can manage, before Wonwoo starts talking again. “I miss you, okay? I know you hate this, but please. Try to see my side of it, yeah?”
The petals were bound to come out with words like that, his mouth full of blood and poppies before they all come spilling out. He whips around with what he’s sure is anger in his eyes, and he watches Wonwoo freeze where he lies.
“I see your side of it,” Soonyoung hisses, blood and spit and petals going everywhere. “And that makes it so much worse.”
“Soonyoung-!”
But he’s already long gone, a trail of bloody flowers left in his wake.
❀
“I think I’m ready,” Soonyoung says to Jihoon the next day, his eyes on the couch and stuck there even as Jihoon moves.
“For treatment?”
“Yeah,” Soonyoung whispers, even as his voice breaks. “I think I’m too far gone to do it any other way.”
Jihoon’s expression is broken hearted the next time that he looks, and he understands why. He’s just shown his entire hand, that he waited so long, let himself get so sick, just on the off chance that Wonwoo would some day return his feelings. Hopeless, really, but he did it anyway.
“I’ll be with you every step of the way.” Jihoon squeezes his hand and Soonyoung somehow manages to offer him a smile.
“Thanks, Ji.”
❀
“Surgery is the only option, whether or not the feelings end up being returned,” the doctor says in a soft voice, her bedside manner comforting and calm. Soonyoung just shrugs.
“I figured,” he mumbles around a flower. A few coughs clear his throat for a few minutes, the flowers dropped in a trash can she helpfully offers with a sad sort of smile. “When’s the next time you can fit me in?”
She rolls back to her computer as Soonyoung shares a glance with Jihoon. Jihoon just reaches out to squeeze his hand.
“Next Thursday,” the doctor offers, turning back to look at Soonyoung. “Would that work?”
“How about Friday?” Jihoon counters, shooting Soonyoung an apologetic grin. “I have meetings I can’t miss on Thursday, and someone should be with him.”
“Friday’s okay,” Soonyoung confirms when the doctor looks to him. She smiles at them both before she’s back on her computer.
“2 o’clock good?”
“Perfect,” Jihoon says, squeezing his hand.
“Yeah,” Soonyoung agrees, ignoring how his heart wants to break.
❀
Soonyoung starts his rounds the very next day. He tells his parents he’s going in for surgery and that he has Jihoon with him, skirting any questions about Wonwoo. He tells the rest of his friends, coughs up a few poppies in their midst without panic now that they know.
Now that they know he’ll get better, especially.
Soonyoung spends the entire time grieving Wonwoo, too.
❀
Though he hates it, Soonyoung comes back to the hospital. He leans against the doorway as he takes in Wonwoo’s dying frame, not even able to conjure up the ghost of a smile.
“I came to say goodbye,” Soonyoung starts, watching Wonwoo’s sluggish blinks. “You’ve made your decision, and that’s,” fine, he means to say, but he can’t get the word out. It’s not fine. Not at all. He’s going to get this dumb poppy removed from his chest and he’s going to have Wonwoo ripped out with the stems.
Them, their relationship, the years of friendship and joy and everything that has helped make Soonyoung who he is, gone in a moment. It hurts too much to think about.
“I just wanted to say goodbye since I won’t remember you after Friday.”
Wonwoo’s eyes bulge slightly, almost as if he hadn’t realized the poppies were for him. It makes something sick and twisted burn in Soonyoung’s chest, but he ignores the feeling as best as he can.
“I hope you have a good rest of your days,” Soonyoung says genuinely, pushing off of the door frame. “I hope you remember me enough for the both of us.”
And with that he walks off, leaving Wonwoo to choke on daffodils.
❀
“I’ll be here when you get out,” Jihoon says softly, squeezing Soonyoung’s hand. Somehow, Soonyong manages to smile.
“Love you, Jihoonie.”
Though he rolls his eyes playfully, Jihoon squeezes his hand again. “Love you too, you dork.”
“We’re ready,” someone calls and with one last squeeze of his hand, Jihoon separates from him.
“See you soon, Jihoonie.”
“You better, Kwon Soonyoung.”
And even if it makes him choke on the flowers in his throat, Soonyoung can’t help but to laugh.
❀
Soonyoung feels his eyes start to flutter as he hears someone laugh.
“Good morning sleepyhead.”
Soonyoung turns his heavy head, meeting Jihoon and Seungcheol’s worried gazes.
“The nurses said something about the meds hitting you pretty hard.”
Soonyoung hums, wondering what they even mean by that.
“Plus, everything went long. Apparently your poppies wouldn’t let go.”
Well, even if he hadn’t expected it, Soonyoung can’t really be surprised. “They were prickly bastards.” The pair laugh at that and Soonyoung finds it easy to smile. “But it worked? I’m okay?”
Seungcheol and Jihoon share a look that Soonyoung can’t quite understand, but he doesn’t have a chance to ask before Seungcheol turns to look at him.
“You’re perfect,” he whispers, tears welling in his eyes.
Soonyoung can only wonder what brought him to tears.
❀
Living with such a large gap in his memories is a bit off kiltering. There’s a name that he never quite catches that seems to float by him, a hazy outline that he can never get to sharpen. He’s not so stupid that he doesn’t know what it means. His life is steeped in whoever made his flowers grow. It probably made them grow stronger, he tells himself, but he can’t do much beyond that.
Whoever it was is gone from his mind. And that’s for the better. It’s all for the better.
Or at least that’s what he tells himself.
❀
Daffodils have started to catch his attention now.
He sort of wishes he knew why.
❀
People always talk about how empty it feels to have your chest freed from the flowers, your heart freed from the emotions slowly crushing it. Soonyoung finally gets it now, and he wishes he didn’t.
It’s weird to be able to breathe easily, without being reminded of whoever he loved so much it manifested physically. It’s weird to be without that weight, stripped of both the cinder blocks dragging him down and the thick blanket keeping him warm.
His friends are weird too. Caged and guarded and clearly scared of what happened. Soonyoung isn’t sure there’s a real way to comfort them, but he tries his best anyways.
❀
The knock on his door makes him pause.
It’s a random Wednesday afternoon and he’s home with what he hopes is just a nasty cold that one of the kids gave him. Or Seungcheol, the bastard. He had been phlegmy and gross for about a week now. Soonyoung isn’t sure how Jihoon can handle his nasty ass.
There’s another knock on the door.
Who could want him on a random ass Wednesday is beyond him, but then they knock again. Assuming it’s something like a delivery from one of his well meaning friends, Soonyoung shuffles to the door, grumbling the entire way.
He freezes when he opens the door.
It’s no delivery driver. No. Instead it’s a man about his age, messy black hair kissing his ears and glasses sitting on the brim of his nose. His cheeks are pink and his eyes are wide, searching Soonyoung in a way that’s far too familiar for them to have just met.
Something in Soonyoung’s chest itches. He ignores it.
“Soonyoung,” the man says and Soonyoung startles a bit.
“How do you know my name?” He demands, watching as the man looks crestfallen.
“Did you get your Forget Me Not?”
Soonyoung blinks at him. “That’s an incredibly rude question.”
“Soonyoung,” the man pleads, and finally Soonyoung notices what’s in his hands.
There, wrapped up so delicate and sweet, a bunch of poppies rest. He’s not entirely sure how to feel about it, but he ends up laughing at the absurdity.
Someone’s murderous beloved coming back isn’t something you really hear outside the fairy tales. But, Soonyoung considers, didn’t the stories need to come from somewhere?
“Buy me a coffee,” Soonyoung says easily, watching as hope begins to fill the man’s eyes, “and tell me who you are.”
“Anything for you.”
Soonyoung shakes his head, leaving the door open behind him, smiling to himself as he hears the man walk inside.
Second chances, he muses. Sometimes it all comes down to second chances.
❀