Chapter Text
She could barely register the loud bang of the rooftop door as she ran, despite her being the one to have slammed it shut. Frantic footsteps floundered behind her; she didn’t need to look to see who it was. She knew. And yet, she just kept running. That’s all she was good at, wasn’t it? Running and running, always running.
Spotting a sharp turn up ahead, she made a beeline for it faster than she ever thought she could have run. She nearly slipped on stray pieces of paper—probably left over from the escape room—but she caught herself in time. The girl running after her wasn’t so lucky. A thud echoed throughout the hallway behind her. She would’ve stopped to check on the other to make sure she was okay, but this time was different. Fear and guilt were the only emotions driving her, and that they did in spades. It seemed like only a few moments had passed, but by the time sunlight hit her face and caused her to squint in response, she was out of breath.
Hide, hide, hide! Her consciousness refused to stop screaming at herself. Silently obeying her own thoughts, the panicked student quickly sheltered behind a box of items and supplies that were no doubt used to set up rooms earlier that day. Her breath was heavily labored, and her heart was hammering against her rib cage. She tried to calm herself as she hid behind the dull, brown crate, but it was no use. Her breathing was now out of her control. Burning tears streaked down her face as she frantically inhaled. Her gasps were absolutely pathetic, each one sharper than the last.
There was one thing she had failed to notice during her escape. The burning sensation of her lungs pushing their limits was suddenly forgotten as something clogged her throat. Her eyes widened in a panic; had she really hyperventilated that hard? She clutched her shirt desperately as a tickling sensation crawled up her throat. However, when she hacked up whatever was in her chest, she wasn't expecting a clump of the gentle yellow-orange petals of a marigold.
“What..?” she muttered weakly, her alarm only spiking when she noticed the splatter of blood that had accompanied the petals out of her mouth.
She started to feel overwhelmed. The ever-familiar steps of the girl running after her sounded nearby, quickly followed by her panting loudly. It was in this moment that black began to crowd around the edges of her vision. She slowly turned her gaze downward, studying her own hands, which were decorated with sticky crimson and soft, sunset-orange. She was already falling to the ground when the girl found her.
She couldn’t see anymore at that point, but she could definitely hear the terrible heartbreak and pained grief in the other girl's voice as she cried out.
“Mizuki!”
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The next thing Mizuki knew, she was on a hospital bed, donning the typical garbs of a patient. Panic caused bile to rise in her throat. Who brought her here? How long had she been unconscious? Thousands of questions ran through her mind like a whirlwind, and she could barely stop herself from throwing up once again as her anxiety rose. She wildly looked around, trying to gauge a general sense of her surroundings.
What happened..? She didn’t realize she'd voiced her thoughts aloud until she heard a soft, worried voice close by respond.
“You fainted? Passed out? Whatever it’s called,” was the response she got. Despite the low volume, Mizuki could hear the subtle agitation in the other person’s voice. Were it any other situation, a normal situation, she would’ve teased the brunette for being so consistently prickly. But she couldn’t muster the energy to even get a word out. She couldn’t even turn to face the girl sitting beside her bed, whose brows furrowed with concern.
When the door opened, a new voice echoed throughout the room. It was unfamiliar; her doctor, Mizuki assumed. His voice was low and unfeeling. He quickly instructed Ena to leave before pulling up a chair of his own.
Ena was hesitant to leave. Of course she was. Mizuki took the risk of looking at her, but the sheer pity, guilt, and sadness that danced around almost mockingly in those soft brown eyes looking at her was too much. She quickly turned her gaze back down, fidgeting with the thin blanket covering her body. The doctor cleared his throat and practically stared holes into the pink-haired patient across from him.
"You have Hanahaki,” he stated plainly. However, his dark black eyes shimmered under the too-bright lights of the hospital room, revealing the concern his monotonous tone was hiding.
Mizuki almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of what was just relayed to her. That disease that acted as a terrible plot device in those novels to push love interests toward each other? Seriously? Were it not for the feeling of petals taunting her from the back of her throat, she would have thought that the doctor was playing some strange joke. She then turned to face the man, who nearly jumped back in surprise at the sheer agony on Mizuki's face.
"Do I have any options?” she asked, voice raspy from enduring the torture of the blood and flowers. The sound was akin to nails on a chalkboard for Mizuki; her voice should be energetic and soft, not this new defeated and rough sound. It wasn't her.
The doctor was not paying attention to the sound of his patient, though. He was simply listening for an answer. What else was he supposed to do? Mizuki shook her head. It's not like this stranger was going to call her useless or a coward. When the man finally replied, Mizuki nearly jumped out of her skin in surprise. Right. She had asked a question.
“Well,” he started, clearing his throat. “You can have the plant surgically removed from inside your lungs, but there is a risk of destroying the lungs.” The dark-haired doctor lifted his head, almost looking like he was cringing at what he was about to say. “You could also…” His face contorted into an expression that made Mizuki let out a short chuckle.
“Confess?” she finished for the doctor in the form of a dry joke. To her surprise, the doctor nodded.
“Exactly. Lowered stress levels have been proven to cause the core plant to shrink, allowing the plant to be thrown up in its entirety after two weeks,” he explained. The doctor suddenly got to his feet and cleared his throat. “We're having you stay overnight to make sure that your condition is stable. You should be discharged in the morning.”
…
Mizuki had now been in the hospital for several hours. She was sure that the sun had set by now. A tray full of unappetizing foods sat before her, as if taunting her. The girl wasn't hungry. How could she even stomach food when all she could think about was the events of the day now that she had been left alone with her thoughts?
The pink-haired girl fidgeted with her blanket for not the first time that day, the texture of the fabric irritating her. It kept her grounded, though. Made her focus on something else. Something other than the look on Ena’s face when she found out. Something other than the panic. Something other than the pain of the vines in her lungs and the discomfort of the petals clinging to the back of her throat. Something other than the terror in Ena’s voice when she caught up to Mizuki. Something other than Ena.
The day just kept playing in Mizuki’s mind on loop, torturing her. Where did she go wrong? She was ready. She had finally been ready to share who she was. Why..?
Shaking her head, the distressed girl put her food tray off to the side and tossed her head back onto the pillow. At least the tightness in her chest had eased and she could breath normally. That was a plus, she supposed. Mizuki was finally starting to drift off to sleep out of pure exhaustion when her phone suddenly lit up from its place next to her food.
Mizuki only needed to check the time to see what the notification was. It was past midnight, which meant one thing and one thing only. It was a message from Nightcord. Her fingers itched to reach over and pick up the phone. She wanted to see what the message said specifically. She wanted to see who it was from.
Could it have been from Ena?
The mere thought of the spunky brunette after Mizuki had finally settled her restless mind caused her to hurl, her chest tightening once more. Tears fell from her tired eyes, a pained sigh escaping her lips. She decided against grabbing her phone.