Chapter Text
He really should’ve seen this coming. In fact, it was almost stupid that he didn’t see this coming. He studied flowers and bugs for God’s sake! He read an insane amount that he knew what it was. He knew all about it, spending evenings reading books about people in situations now similar to his current one.
So why is it that when he coughed up that first petal, he laughed it away? Why is it that when the petals became more frequent he excused it as just a side effect of the neighborhood? It wasn’t an unreasonable idea. Things had been odd recently, to say the least. The neighborhood had always been a bit weird. Occasionally, Wally would say something odd, or a neighbor would feel a sense of dizziness and unease. But, everything had always been fine. The neighbors were kind to each other, there was always food, and they were close.
But recently, things had been different. Recently, things had been really odd. Things Frank couldn’t just scoff and move on from. Flashes of things that weren’t there, cryptic messages from Wally, the reverence in his voice when talking about Home, food spoiling a day too soon.
Frank Frankly felt terribly nauseous, having had an aching headache all day. If it was a one time thing, he could have excused it as fatigue from gardening, or a stomach bug. But, this was the third time in 2 weeks. He leaned over the porcelain throne, something he had gotten rather acquainted with in the past few days. He had made sure to lock all the doors, blocking the bathroom one with a stool.
There is no way I’m letting anyone see me like this. They would panic. Plus, I have a reputation to uphold. And God forbid h-
Images flashed through his head, images of the local mailman. Everything itched, itched, itched, things that felt like they were there but never were. He scratched at his arms and legs, wanting the nonexistent object out. His limbs were getting red, but he didn’t care. Images kept flashing in his mind, furthermore distressing him. It was happening.
“Not aga—!”
He clenched his hands against the toilet seat. His knuckles were white. He choked on the mix of food, water, and petals. His eyes snapped shut, making noises that if he had been heard, would have sent the neighbors rushing over in worry. Usually, Frank would be worried about how unhygienic being so close to the toilet was. Not today.
He looked down to see what had been done, how much he’d have to clean. In the toilet was a chunky, yet soupy mix of his previous meals. In the vomit, taunting him, were black clematis petals. That was the usual flower type. He fell back onto the floor, pale and breathing heavy. He sat up, trembling.
“God, what is happening to me?” Why he asked, he wasn’t sure. He knew what this was. He couldn’t deny it anymore, it was clear at this point. He looked at his arms and legs. There were now small scrapes plaguing them, ones that were luckily easy to cover. He pressed one and winced. So maybe some ointment would be necessary before covering the scratches up.
He sighed heavily. “I can’t deal with this right now.” He stood up, still shaking, and walked over to his bed. Flopping down on it, he breathed out in relief. The bed was soft, and the bug covers helped with the shivering. Frank yawned, giving into the comfort.
It’s only 2 in the afternoon. You have things to do. What would the others think? What would he th—
“Nope. Not right now, brain.” He looked over to his insect decor. The moth lamp, the framed images, all of it helped a lot. He squeezed his cricket stuffie. A small smile came onto his face as he began naming each decor bug’s scientific names. Frank’s eyes began to droop, and the sweet relief of rest took over.