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He noticed the fragrance on his breath one night in the middle of Winter while he was preparing for bed. As he brushed his teeth, the smell overwhelmed even the slightly bitter flavor of the toothpaste.
It was a subtle thing, but he hadn't had chrysanthemum tea since he left Vega 5. It was one of the rare little things he missed, the strong scent and complex flavor he often sought out in the mornings... he recognized the smell, and for a brief moment, wondered if someone had managed to grow chrysanthemums in Sandrock.
Of course, that was just too fanciful. The arid air alone would likely destroy the flowers before they bloomed. He figured he must have been hallucinating - he rarely slept now that the Shipwreck Ruins were available for study. With a bit of a hopeful heart, he figured that... well, if anyone could grow chrysanthemums in Sandrock, it would be them. He could almost picture it in his mind's eye, their rough hands holding the flowers' stems delicately, gently, reaching out to offer them to him.
... He didn't know why he pictured that last part. Not at the time.
It took a few weeks for the roots to begin aching. But god, they ached. He thought at first that perhaps he'd had too much sand tea - Fang had said he shouldn't drink more than five or six cups a day, at maximum. But he'd only just finished the second cup of the day. It wasn't even noon yet. Surely he hadn't already severely overaged...
He concluded that he would stay at the Research Center for the day, instead of trekking out to the ruins. He had plenty of materials to turn over already, anyway - great boxes of well-preserved paperwork, some of which may be on the engineering and design choices of the Olympia ships and capsules. Perhaps he might even find a hard copy of the jet engines' patent. Likely he'd been working too hard, too fast, and this was his body's way of slowing him down.
He was working in his bedroom when he heard the Research Center's heavy front door swing open. He heard their voice. "Qi?"
"Upstairs. One moment." He put down the paper he was holding - some sort of fuel pressurizer component diagram, made to be read by the machines that constructed things in the Old World and not by human eyes. He'd been trying to figure out what component 49 could possibly be for at least twenty minutes now. Perhaps a break was due.
When he stood, a lance of pain shot through his chest, but he ignored it and walked down the stairs from his little apartment to the Center proper. "Oh, good to see you. I went up to the ruins and didn't see any sign of you, so... I figured I'd check on you on the way home." Their friendly smile eased the tension in his chest, almost ludicrously - the pain was now very nearly non-existent.
"I am not feeling so well today, so I decided to... take a day off."
"Woah, Director Qi, not working...? Unbelievable."
"Well... perhaps not entirely off. I am reviewing what I've retrieved from the ruins now."
They frowned a little at him. "If you're not feeling well, you should be relaxing. Overworking that big brain of yours will drain you just as much as working your body." They paused for a moment, thinking. "Yeah, that decides it. We're going out."
"Isn't going out antithetical to 'relaxing' too?"
"We'll not do anything too intensive. Hmm... first we'll see if we can get you to eat, then we'll stargaze a bit. It'll be nice for me too, I love hearing about the stars in the constellations we find." They nodded, seemingly already decided.
He sighed. "I haven't even agreed yet, and you've already decided what we're doing?"
"You won't disagree."
"...What?"
"You like spending time together, and you know overworking yourself any more today will make me upset with you. So you'll agree." They smiled, and he thought he detected a new sort of feeling there he'd never seen before. "And if nothing else, I could just pick you up and walk there with you thrown over my shoulder like a kidnapped princess."
Ah. Teasing. That's what the mystery feeling was.
"Well... that won't be necessary. I do have some time now."
He began avoiding them. Hiding like a child in his locked bedroom when they visited the Research Center. Turning around if he saw them on the street. Fleeing the Blue Moon when they entered. The cessation of pain was welcome, but when they parted ways the sensation would return at twice the strength for several hours. He couldn't bear it.
He couldn't sleep properly anymore. Seeing them in his dreams would wake him up, whimpering in pain. It ached constantly. How could another person's presence alleviate physical pain? How could their absence cause it? He had to see Fang. He'd been putting it off, but this absolutely couldn't be symptoms of his excessive caffeine intake. This was something else.
Seven-thirty the next morning, he was outside Fang's door. He entered the doctor's office, grunting in pain when he released the door. He approached the quiet doctor, debating how he'd explain his symptoms and not sound absolutely insane.
"Dr. Fang... I've been having pain in my chest." At the doctor's wordless expression, he continued, "I am not exceeding the tea limit! And I haven't had any tea at all for... has it really been a week..?"
"Hmm... serious, then. Have... a seat." He sat down on the patient bed, sighing at the pain spearing him through.
Fang's sharp gaze caught the way he flinched, but the doctor said nothing. "There is an additional symptom, as well. I... can't explain it, and it might sound... strange..."
At the doctor's nod, he continued, "When I'm around... a certain person, the pain goes away nearly completely. Ah, but when I part ways with them it worsens for hours - I know it sounds impossible, but I've tested it, and there's no other explanations I can think of."
He watched Fang freeze where he'd been grabbing ingredients (probably for some sort of pain-relief tincture) from his shelves. "It... goes away? How?"
"It just sort of... stops. Well, it's still there, but it doesn't react to stimuli - so it doesn't hurt more when I'm moving or lifting something like it does when they aren't around, and the pain is so little as to be nearly non-existent."
The doctor whirled around, coming to his side immediately. "Lay. I need to test... something. Unlikely, but..." He laid down, wincing at the motion's pull on his chest muscles. The doctor pressed his stethoscope to his chest. "Breathe." Fang commanded.
He swallowed a deep breath, gasping at the undiluted agony that shot through him when he did. Fang frowned and closed the distance with his face. "Again." He swallowed another breath, despite the nerves now pinging his system about the proximity of another person's face.
"Chrysanthemum... this is not... good."
"What's wrong with me?"
"Rare illness. Old World. Probably from ruins... not communicable... from altered plantlife... fatal."
He felt his mouth go dry. "Fatal?"
"... can be fatal." Fang amended.
"What's wrong with me?" Qi repeated, ignoring the jolt of pain zipping up his spine at his insistent words.
Fang paused, eyebrows knitted. "Plantlife growing... in lungs. Roots embedded already... that's the source of pain. Will grow freely if not... treated."
"What are my treatment options?"
"... plantlife can only root if someone... loves and hides. Once the heart is clear... the roots lose their foothold. You must tell the person... you love, that you love them. You must be loved in return." The doctor's frown never left his face, but his eyes turned thoughtful. "Perhaps possible to... treat symptom instead of cause. Dangerous. No surgery anymore, no AI to perform it... weedkiller... harmful to your health."
"Love...? I don't love anyone, not like that! I don't really know anyone here, how could I -"
"Person who alleviates... pain, is your love. Heart's shadowed with affection... for them. The spores sensed it when they invaded... your system. Normally dormant and expelled after two days..."
He lay there for a long moment, staring at Fang. He was in love? He was dying from being in love? With the Builder?! Fang merely returned his gaze evenly. "Will it be weedkiller, or... suggested treatment?"
"... suggested treatment. My constitution isn't strong enough to withstand poisoning."
Fang nodded. "Go home. Rest. It's impossible to know... where they are, at this time of day."
Fatal... can be fatal. Love?
It was just too fanciful... but it was his reality now.
It was two days later before he felt well enough to leave the Research Center again. They hadn't visited, likely driven off by him avoiding them for weeks. He had begun coughing, horrible racking things that shook his whole frame.
Sometimes, blood came up. Sometimes, chrysanthemum leaves. No petals, yet, but Fang had explained that if he put it off long enough for the flowers to bloom, there would be petals, and possibly whole flowers. When the leaves started coming up was when he realized... there was no denying it. Fang was right. He was dying.
The sun felt hotter than it normally did, sapping his energy like it did in summer even though it was only the beginning of spring. He trudged on nonetheless. He had arrangements to make. Fang said that even if he 'cleared his heart' there was a chance the roots were already too deep, had already done too much damage. That in the absence of their strangling hold he'd have nothing to hold his heart in place.
So, before he even thought about Fang's suggested treatment, he was going to set up his funeral arrangements with Mort. If he couldn't live to do an in-depth study of the Olympia, he would at least be buried somewhat near it. Closer to it than he would be in Vega 5, anyway.
Mort's tea of choice today was rose, which was... ironic. Apparently the botanist and the other Builder had managed to cultivate some in the Moisture Farm. "It's... unusual for someone visiting to wish to be buried here." The old man said, voice creaking like an engine a few revolutions from going out forever.
"... I don't think I'm visiting, anymore." Qi said, and at Mort's look of gentle curiosity, he continued, "My dreams are here, under the soil on the Northern Plateau. And... my heart is, apparently, here too. If you'll forgive the... sappy attitude."
"What's happened to make you think about what you'll do when you die? You're a young man, less healthy than most but still... you won't feel the consequences of that for another decade at least." Mort sipped his tea. "It's unusual for young folk to consider such things."
He looked away from the tea to the floor of the shack. "Nothing in particular. Just... dangerous times." No matter what, times were always dangerous. Mort didn't call out his sidestep of the question.
Mort nodded, and brought out a parchment. "Let's begin."
The perfumed tea-scent swam in his brain long after he left the graveyard shack. Fang had ordered him to do his 'suggested treatment' as soon as physically possible. But he... couldn't. The thought of walking up to them and just saying, "Hello. I might be in love with you." was just... unthinkable. Not just unthinkable but undesirable. Even if they'd had kind feelings for him before, his misguided spurning would have certainly destroyed anything he might have in his favor. He couldn't humiliate himself like that.
But was his dignity worth his life to him?
...of course it was. If he lacked his dignity, what did he have? He'd worked his whole life for the recognition he had now. And he refused to believe that was a waste, even with the possibility of his final days looming.
Fang's book had said there had been a surgical treatment in the Old World. The company that had bioengineered the flora to determine if someone had feelings for you had come up with one after an outbreak killed several people. But only an AI surgeon was thorough enough to perform such a thing - every root and seed had to be removed, or the structure would merely regrow within a few weeks. Once the plants flowered, he'd have to quarantine, as the flora developing spores then became possible.
He'd offered the Mysterious Man something unique in exchange for a diagram or chip for this specialized surgeon AI. He was relieved when the businessman merely noted his desire and moved on without questioning why.
He didn't know if he'd still be alive when the salesman returned. But if he was, he'd probably be on his last leg. Metaphorically. It was a difficult thing, knowing he might be running out of time. Especially knowing the Olympia was less than a league away, yet he was too weak to go study her. His lifelong dream was within his grasp, but he couldn't close his fingers around it. Maddening.
It was his fourth day of self-imposed isolation when the heavy door creaked open again. Mi-an already had all the diagrams she needed, so she didn't visit. Nothing he knew of had happened in town lately, so it wouldn't be Heidi or Trudy looking for a consultation... no, it would be the person he both most and least wanted to see.
"Qi...? Fang said you needed some medicine delivered...?"
He sighed. No use hiding. He carefully made his way down the stairs, hoping that keeping his body tense would ease the pain - or at least make hiding his expression of it easier. They were waiting near the bottom, never willing to violate his privacy by going upstairs uninvited. Their sharp eyes, accustomed to hours of reviewing every detail of a project, quickly assessed his state. "You need to make sure you're taking your medicine regularly. I've... never seen you so..."
His pain was receding at their presence, but he was still afraid. He tried to laugh, but it sounded too... wet, somehow, so he stopped. "I'll be fine. I'm always in disarray."
They frowned. "You need to take this seriously. Fang said he's already given you your treatment plan, but you haven't acted on it." They handed him the bag they were carrying.
He examined its contents while he spoke. "That's because his suggested treatment... it wouldn't work anyway. It was about... a three in one hundred chance it would work, and I hurt even those odds. Now the odds are essentially nil, but he still wants me to try despite the cost... did you know you delivered me poison?"
"What?!"
"Yes, this is the alternative treatment, since the suggested course would likely be detrimental and purposeless. Maybe I can survive it if I... make sure to keep in flawless health otherwise..."
"What was the suggested treatment? No matter how low the odds are... I'm sure between the two of us we can make just one more miracle, right?" The took the bag from his hands with distaste.
"... you also consider the things we've done together to be miracles of science?"
"Of course! As much as Grace might... disagree, I think you're probably the best researcher in the Free Cities, if not the world. And I'm pretty good at following directions, so... there has to be something we can do."
The air rasped from his lungs. Peach, at least he knew they'd still miss him, if nothing else. He nodded. "Come upstairs. We'll have tea while I explain my illness, so you can understand what exactly is happening."
They followed his less-unsteady steps up the stairs, and sank down on the pillow across from his at his table. "What's happening, Qi?"
"Well. I'm dying, most likely. I feel it's best to start with that, so that you don't get hopeful." He started brewing the tea with practiced movements. He'd done it a dozen times a day before. "I began having chest pain in midwinter. It was... not so bad then, but it was the worst pain I'd ever felt in my life. I thought it was my heart again, reacting to too much caffeine... but when I cut out the caffeine, it didn't improve. So I went to see Fang, about a week ago."
"Fatal. My illness 'can be fatal.' It sounds so... unreal, to explain, but I breathed a spore in the ruins and it took root in my lungs. The flowers were originally a commercial bioengineering project that reacted to someone's hormone releases - they would seem brighter if someone was releasing oxytocin, and would wilt in the presence of too much cortisol. They were supposed to determine if the person you gave them to loved you or not." He sighed. "But the spores could root anywhere if there was enough of the complex cocktail of hormones that indicate 'love'."
"... you're in love, Qi?" He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw a twinge of guilt on their face before they hid it behind the teacup.
He smiled wanly. "I... didn't think so. But Fang explained that I would experience a significant lessening of my pain around the person I cared for, likely as cortisol and oxytocin were both spiking simultaneously. According to the book I found on the subject, the only way to deal with it is to tell that person... well, you know. Telling them raises cortisol through the roof, but the oxytocin and dopamine release after, in addition to the bioelectrical changes in the body... Kills the roots, after which I should be able to cough up or swallow and break down the remainder of the flora over several days."
"...so why not just tell them?! If you know what's causing it and how to fix it... I don't see why you wouldn't."
"Well, they'd... not accept it. And if they didn't accept it when I told them, there would be no release after, no bioelectrical change. The flora's growth would slow for a time, but then it would resume, and I would die anyway, just with awkward air between myself and... the person I love."
"I will do anything to make sure it works out. Who is it? I know everyone, surely... surely I can help somehow."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I love you."
"Yeah, obviously, but who's the person?!"
He sighed, turning to clear away the empty teacups. "You should go home. It's late, and there's supposed to be a sandstorm coming in tonight."
They looked down at their hands and back up to him. They opened their mouth, likely to say something, but no words emerged. A silence like a shroud descended over the room. They got up and made their way to the stairs, pausing to watch him as he entered his room. He heard the heavy lower door of the Research Center creak open and the boom of it closing.
He laid the cups down on his desk and sat down, just in time for the first wave of agony. It felt like a beast was sinking its claws into his chest and attempting to pull him open. He could hardly breathe, so at least this time he wasn't screaming. This will pass. It was worth it.
He didn't know if it really was, but the words always made him feel like this all had a purpose. Qi could do anything, suffer anything, so long as there was a purpose. To pull his brain away from his pain-torn body, he began giving himself simple puzzles, thought exercises that would normally only take him a second.
As the pain began to plateau, his other riddles all dissolved into one singular question. When did he fall in love with them?
Qi had thought of this many times since it had been confirmed. He figured it must have been the telescope that did it. They'd been very contrarian about his proposed offer - payment and the ability to use the telescope on their birthday. And he was ready to pay for that telescope. But the curious sparkle when they peeked through it after installation had intrigued him, and their invitation to view the stars together had only increased his interest. Especially when they demonstrated a... surprising amount of expertise. Constellations, yes, but the named stars and their distances as well.
The fourth or fifth time they went stargazing together, they'd told him they had always been interested in the stars, and though there wasn't much literature available on the subject in Highwind, they'd read what they could find in their City Hall's library so much they could recall their favorite facts word-for-word from the texts. He'd then made an offer that was supremely out-of-character for him, even from his own perspective. Indeed, he must have been in love with them by then... otherwise he would have never let them handle his collection of books on the cosmos, much less permitted them to borrow them (one at a time, of course. He wasn't an animal.)
As they learned more, their company became more and more interesting. Truly, he should have realized he was in love with them a long time ago. He supposed that he didn't want to see it, and so chose not to.
The pain had begun to leak from his body, intensity decreasing until it was very nearly manageable again. Hm, it hadn't taken so long this time - perhaps his intense stress earlier has weakened the plant somewhat. He sat up from where he'd slumped onto the desk while in the throes of his agony. He heard a loud noise, and a call. "Qi?!"
He pushed himself up from his chair. Duty called, perhaps. Or destiny. Whatever got him up, at this point. When he opened his bedroom door, they were there.
"Qi... is it me?"
He knew very well what this line of questioning meant. His stomach dropped even as the pain in his chest eased. "Is what you?"
"Are you... in love with me? Is that why you looked so disappointed when I asked who it was...?" He didn't know how to quantify their expression.
After a long moment, he replied the only way he could: truthfully. "...yes."
They laughed, then. Not cruel (as if they had ever been cruel to him), but a sound of joy and delight as pure as summer sunlight. "Thank the Light! I... I accept, obviously!"
He blinked at them for a moment. "It doesn't work like that."
"Do I need to do some sort of ritual or something? These Old World creations can be so opaque..." Their hope burned bright, scorching. He wondered who would be burned worse from it.
"It has to be genuine. It's based on hormones and as such words won't solve it, it can't just be something you say - it has to be real." He knew this would happen if he told them - they'd be willing to put up the act, of course. And since he knew that, their acceptance gave him no relief, because it was just... what they felt was right to do. Not what they wanted to do.
They gave him a hard look, eyes searching his face for something. After a minute, they tentatively spoke. "...you don't believe me?"
"Of course not, you're the most well-liked person in Sandrock, at least a dozen people in town are head over heels for you. How could I possibly even place among the more charismatic and interesting people here?" He shook his head. "I recognize I'm... callous, and difficult to get along with. There's no getting around it." He looked at the doorframe, studying the paint for the first time... probably ever.
"Qi..." Even from the corner of his eye, he caught how their mouth turned down at the corners, and he wished for a moment that he could turn off the cynical part of his mind that made believing them impossible. He didn't want to hurt them... and he really didn't want to die.
The pain would be worse if be believed it and it turned out to be a lie. That much he knew. "Qi, look at me."
He looked at them again, as they requested. They reached out and hesitated, only touching once he'd acknowledged the hand and not moved away. Very gently, they cradled his face. "Qi, I love you. I've loved you for... a while. The way you look when you're beaming up at the stars, the way your words all run together when you get too excited and start talking too fast, I even love that vindictive little smile you do whenever you're telling me about a paper you've written to discredit one of your rival's theories." They sighed. "I thought... well, there's no way someone like you - someone with such broad horizons, who's known as one of the most intelligent people in the world, could ever... even see me as an equal, much less someone special..."
His heart was pounding. It hadn't managed that in a while. "You're... more than my equal, more than 'someone special.' You're... capable of anything, of everything - restoring a dying town, bringing water to the desert, making me... some kind of starry-eyed romantic. Me, of all people!"
They searched his face again, and must have found whatever they were looking for, because a moment later they were using their hold on his face to reel him in. Their lips pressed to his, warm and chapped from the desert wind, and he froze.
After a few moments, they parted from him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth as they retreated. He gasped, taking in air like he was drowning. Then he began to cough, doubling over. He coughed, and coughed, and coughed... when he regained his bearings, he'd coughed up a mess of blood and petals, fortunately contained to the bucket they had produced from seemingly nowhere. And, somehow, Fang was there.
"Huh...?"
"You were coughing for... at least fifteen minutes. I thought that maybe..." you were dying, they didn't say.
But Fang's expression, though serious as ever, seemed rather... bright. "Enacted treatment earlier than expected. Good, will be monitoring... here." He presented him with a bottle of murky liquid. "Drink. Not poison!" He added upon seeing the builder's suspicious look. "Helps with healing... internal damage."
He drank up, noting the bitter taste.
"So he's... healing?"
"Mhm. Flowers will have to exit... the body somehow - may be painful. Recommend hydrating often... to avoid throat pain. Visit clinic... in the morning." Fang turned and left, as quietly as he had come.
He stood upright again. "I was serious about the sandstorm coming, earlier. You really should go. You heard Fang's prognosis. I'll be fine."
"...I don't want to. If that's okay."
"What?"
They shuffled a little, looking down at their feet. "I mean... I'd like to watch over you. Just in case."
"I'm not dying on you just yet... but you're always welcome here." He let them into his room, just as he heard the tell-tale sounds of a sandstorm whipping up outside. He hoped the doctor had made it back to the clinic in one piece.
"You must be tired from all of this, right? You should rest."
"Where will you sleep?"
They smiled at him. "Well... I could sleep on the floor. Or we could just share." He felt his face heat up. They must have seen it too, because their smile only got more mischievous. "Your call."
"It's... fine." He sat down. His bed was really only fit for one person, but... he supposed he didn't mind sharing, as long as it was with them.
After they'd gotten settled in - with sheets tucked between them, otherwise Qi's poor overworked heart's hammering would be enough noise to keep him awake - they turned over to face him, previous playfulness all but gone from their face. "Qi... what are we?"
He smirked a little. "Humans, I assume."
They rolled their eyes, but smiled despite themselves. "That might have worked on your other admirers, but I'm not so easy to get rid of. You know very well what I mean."
"Our... relationship status, yes. I'm... not familiar with the options in this area."
They took his hand, where it rested on the blankets. "It feels a little silly to call you 'boyfriend,' but that'll do... at least, for now."
'Boyfriend,' huh? He could live with 'boyfriend'. "I think that's... fine." The way he swallowed between "that's" and "fine" definitely tipped his new partner off as to how he really felt about the title.
"You're excited about it, but so am I. I can't wait to be one of those people that has to introduce you as 'my wonderful boyfriend, Qi' whenever we meet someone new." It would be a little embarrassing, but to think that they were so proud to be in a relationship with him of all people that they were willing to announce it as part of introductions... well, it sent his ego into orbit.
"If you want to. But remember, that opens you up for all sorts of embarrassing moments."
"Uh-huh? Like that?"
"Well, certainly the people who have worked with me in the past will think something of that. I heard the Vega 5 delegate telling you she was shocked you had yet to throw me from the nearest window for being difficult."
They giggled. "You're not really difficult. Just, hm... very exact. A bit of a perfectionist."
Yeah, maybe he was a bit of a perfectionist. But Qi thought that was a fair price to pay for perfection. He'd certainly found something perfect here, tonight.