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Sometimes Kaveh wished he could rid his lungs of this overwhelming pain.
The sensation of the flowers clogging his trachea was suffocating, the vines tangled in his airways made each cough agonising. Every heave over the edge of the toilet was a torture, the petals blocking his throat and leaving him unable to breathe.
But it made him feel…alive.
Every blob of purple and red he spat out was a reminder that he was still human. A grim reminder that he had feelings. And these feelings were slowly killing him. Each petal painted with the crimson red of unmistakable blood was a stark contrast to the green leaves.
Kaveh is always mesmerised at how his body was able to churn out such a beautiful palette of colours. The green of the stem and leaves give a semblance of the luscious forests in Sumeru, a splash of yellow peeking through the damp lavender petals reminding him of the sandy dunes in the west.
Padisarahs. It was his favourite flower.
Kaveh grinned maniacally as he gripped the edges of the porcelain, the fragile material threatening to crack. A mixture of blood and saliva ran down his trembling lips, dripping onto the white tiles. He took laboured breaths through gritted teeth, the fresh air hitting the back of his rotting throat like a punch to the gut. He felt the itch in his throat just seconds before he hurled the contents of his empty stomach into the toilet.
It felt like years before it stopped.
——-
Kaveh was a simple man. A renowned architect with achievements and skills worthy of praise from all. His perseverance and determination were his main traits, other than his steadfastness and kindness. However, no one knew his true nature. Under the facade, Kaveh was a child. A naive and foolish young boy.
He was too willing to give, and too eager to share. Although those resulted in people taking advantage of him, he was glad to be of help. However, he was also plagued with one more setback.
Kaveh fell in love too easily,
This was a disastrous mistake in Sumeru. In the past, a manic researcher had created a plant which infected and destroyed the victim from the inside. The plant was sentient, and was able to grow and survive even in dark conditions. All that was needed for this plant to wreak havoc was love.
Love was the catalyst for this plant, where it fed off the victims feelings and emotions for another. The plant was mainly recorded to be found in patients who had been rejected recently, or found that their love for their object of attraction was unrequited. As it killed its victims, they reproduced, multiplying until there were too many to count.
The disease was then documented as the “Hanahaki Disease.”
The only way to treat it is to get surgery, where the doctors would pry all the veins of green out of the patient's respiratory system. The downside of the surgery would be that memories and all feelings would be gone, and the person would no longer remember and be attracted to the loved one. However, if the disease lasts for too long, the plant would have fed off too much, and memories would still be lost.
Kaveh refused the surgery.
The memories and feelings for the man he loved were as precious as a million mora. He would never give them up for anything. He would rather die.
——-
Kaveh wakes up. He does not know when he lost consciousness.
He pushes himself to a seating position on the cold, smooth tiles of the bathroom while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He spots a puddle of blood that had pooled out of his open mouth as he slept, and a tussle of his golden locks on the ground. He’d pulled on his hair during the pain, trying to direct it to his scalp instead of his throat.
The man pulls himself up to the sink with effort, grunting as his legs threaten to give out. The cramp from the position he slept in was definitely going to kick him in the ass in an hour or so.
The face staring back in the mirror was not his own. The face in the mirror was pale, his cheeks shrunken and hair dishevelled. Bright red clips were almost hidden in the dull locks, the colour similar to the petals he coughs up. His eyes were a shadowed red, lost of its light. Where had it gone? Kaveh wondered. He remembered the vibrant red that used to stick out like a sore thumb.
Thank goodness he has a day off. He would rather die than go out looking like a walking corpse.
As Kaveh spun around to open the bathroom door, he remembered something. He did not live alone. The person who lives with him could never know this was happening. Archon forbid. He was the last person that should know. His hand froze mid air, hovering above the lock of the door.
Warily, Kaveh leaned against the door, pressing his ear onto the cool plastic. He was unsure of the time, so he was not sure whether the man was in the house or at work. He was not about to bet on it.
A few seconds tick by, and Kaveh hears nothing. No clink of a coffee mug, no flipping of a book, nothing. Satisfied by these results, he whips open the door, prepared to make a dash to the confines of his own room.
Only to come face to face with the last person he would ever want to see. They instantly made eye contact, shadowed red meeting the others bright green. The other man seemed like they were about to say something, but paused as they looked at Kaveh from head to toe. Kaveh saw something akin to ‘worry’ pass through the others' eyes, but decided it was nothing. He would never feel anything like that.
He was the reason he was even feeling this way anyways. The reason he was throwing up padisarahs in the first place. It was because he did not love him back. Typical. His emotionless and dismissive attitude was cold. It was a wonder how he fell in love this this stone cold statue.
His ash grey hair was mediocre, his striking green eyes were too piercing, and…
Itch.
Oh Archons.
Itch. Itch.
Not here. Not in front of him.
Itch. Itch. Itch.
Kaveh slapped his hand over his mouth, unable to stop coughing as he felt the tickle of more and more petals creeping up his throat.
ItchItchItchItchItchItchItchItch-
He couldn’t take it anymore, collapsing onto his knees. The last thing he saw was red, red, red as he blacked out.
——-
He dreamed of the man. His name was a poem itself, the word twisting in his tongue like a melody yet to be sung. Yet, he wished to sing it, shout it out from the top of the mountains and dance to its beat. He wished he had more time, and he wished he was able to say what he’d really wanted to.
In this dream, he’s in a field of flowers that reached his knees. Padisarahs. They’re more beautiful when thriving and alive, soft and the touch and aromatic to the nose. He brushes his hands through them, walking towards the sunset.
He trips over what he thinks is a tree stump. The tree stump squeaks, jumping up and helping him up. Oh. It was…an Aranara? Was that what they were called? Kaveh could not remember. His memory was fading. He distinctly recalled the children's stories his mother would recite to him, and the small figurines his father would carve for him. His tiny fingers would always wrap around them, giggling as he played pretend with his new dolls.
It looked like it was carved from the finest wood, each and every delicate detail intrigued Kaveh. If his eyes weren’t closing, he would have desired to trace and draw this small creature. Its red hat complemented its pale cream body, and the swirls on its belly seemed unique. A small sumeru rose twirled lazily on top of their pointed hat.
The Aranara took his hand, pulling him towards wherever they desired. Kaveh simply followed, curious to where the little creature was bringing him.
While the small creature leads him through the field of colour, he remembers and remembers. He grasps at the memories of his only love, trying to hold on for as long as possible before he succumbs to the disease.
Kaveh was a simple man. A renowned architect with achievements and skills worthy of praise from all.
(The only person he’d ever wanted praise from was him)
His perseverance and determination were his main traits, other than his steadfastness and kindness.
(They were the only person to ever realise what was beneath his mask, testing his morals and making him question all his decisions)
However, no one knew his true nature. Under the facade, Kaveh was a child. A naive and foolish young boy.
(He knew his true nature. He was able to see Kaveh in all his glory, flaws and all. And that was what Kaveh loved about him.)
Ah.
Love.
Kaveh loved him.
Who was he?
The Aranara brought him to a small village in the field. It’s rough wooden arms letting go of him as it bounded towards the village. Kaveh’s eyes widen in wonder as he watches multiple Aranara emerge from the bushes around the area. They gesture for the blonde to follow, and so the man follows them into the village. After the walk, they finally led him to a bed.
So this was the end? He was glad this was his final resting place. Around the bed, was his own favourite flower, mourning flowers. The red flowers surrounded the pure white bed. Kaveh smiled at all the Aranara’s, happy he was able to see them again before he passed. He settled into the bed, feeling his eyes droop almost immediately. He sighed contentedly. It was nice to finally rest after all this time. As his eyelids flutter shut for the last time, he finally remembered:
His name was Alhaitham.
He loved Alhaitham .
——-
Whether rain or shine, the grey haired man went to the grave.
Alhaitham was always present at the grave, cleaning it regularly and placing a flower at the front. He also made sure to place another flower, a sumeru rose, onto the grave next to him.
The purple of the rose and the red of the mourning flower were perfect. There lies both Kaveh and his father.
After placing the flowers, Alhaitham picks up his bag, and slowly makes his way back to the house. The house was a sad and empty mess. The once vibrant colours of furniture were missing, and any trace of the past occupant was gone. Alhaitham sighed, placing his bag down onto the ottoman near the door. Suddenly he felt an itch in his throat, and brought his hand up to his mouth.
With a shaking hand, his closed fist opened to reveal a single mourning flower.