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His whole chest hurt. It hurt more than anything. It felt like something was wrapping around his heart and squeezing it. He felt like he couldn't breath most days. And then it got worse. And worse and worse. Blood began to come up, and then petals. Pink wide petals. It took some looking, but he found they were Camellias. He loved Camellias. They were such a pretty flower. He didn't think they were so pretty anymore with how they were being thrown up every so often. The toilet of Two-Bits bathroom was covered in petals and blood, the sound of Johnny dry heaving clear. He'd been in there for who knows how long, trying to clear his throat of the flowers. He felt horrible. Gasping and wheezing as more petals forced their way up his throat and into the toilet. It was so hard to breathe. He felt like he was going to pass out. He heaved, throwing up a mixture of blood, petals and vomit. His breathing was slowly becoming easier with each gush of disgust from his body. Once he was empty, or as empty as you could be with roots in your lungs and stomach, he cleaned off his mouth and flushed the toilet. He made sure to clean up the rim of the bowl as well, wiping away blood and sticky petals that clung to the porcelain. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes had tears in them from the overwhelming pain. He wiped them away, tossing the tissue he'd used to clean up into the trash. He'd be fine. He was going to be fine. It's just some flowers. Nothing that can't be solved easily.. right?
Johnny opened the bathroom door gingerly, his gaze downward as he ran right into Two-bit who'd been standing at the door. The older Greaser had a concerned look on his face, Johnny wondered how long he'd been standing outside the bathroom, waiting for him to come out or to come in and check on him. Two-Bit had always been Johnny's second closest friend, next to Dallas of course. He let him stay at his house most nights when he just couldn't handle his folks. He liked Two-Bit's ma well enough too, she was real sweet, and so was his sister. He loved playing with her from time to time when he wasn't too tired. Two-Bit treated him like family usually, and here he was, yucking up the bathroom with his own strange little affliction. He never wanted any of the gang to find out about what was happening. How could he even explain it? Johnny didn't even know what was going on with him. Why flowers? Why was he the only one sick with it? Where were the flowers even coming from. So many questions he couldn't answer, so much fear he didn't want to acknowledge. Johnny felt his throat get dry as Two-Bit asked if he was OK, getting only a nod from the ill boy as he sidestepped past his friend and towards the front door.
Any other words Two-Bit said fell on deaf ears as Johnny left the house, feeling another surge of grotesque horrors trying to force themselves up and out through his mouth. He made it halfway across the street before he began to vomit. Blood, puke and flowers pushing from his mouth like a revolting waterfall. With each heave, his body felt more and more weak. Next thing he knew he was in the hospital, Ponyboy sitting at his side. Johnny found himself unable to speak words, in fact he couldn't even open his mouth. Pony must've noticed he was awake because he was sitting up real fast with puffy red eyes like he'd been crying.
"Oh Johnny, why didn't you tell us you were sick? You had Two-Bit worried to death that you'd died up and there on the street." Ponyboy said, Johnny's gaze lingering on him before glancing up at the tile ceiling.
He was sick. But he couldn't tell the gang, they'd think he was infectious or something. Besides, he didn't even know what he was sick with. All he knew was that he'd learned that Dallas had done something, broken a promise of his, and now he was throwing up Camellias as if he'd eaten a whole thing of seeds for the blasted things. Johnny felt so... so not right. He hated every bit of it. Hated feeling so powerless. It's why he'd been crashing at Two-Bits more, not risking himself on the streets with whatever was wrong with him. At least at Two-Bits house he could properly dispose of the flowers into the toilet. But he didn't think he'd be able to hide it anymore, not what with being in the hospital now. He felt so.. tired. He couldn't keep his eyes open as Ponyboy continued to talk to him. He suddenly became aware of the heart monitor he was attached to when it slowed down, his heart rate decreasing rapidly as he closed his eyes. He couldn't breath. He felt the thump of feet. He couldn't breath. His eyes were closed. He couldn't breath. Ponyboy was shouting his name.
.
.
.
Johnny passed away in that hospital, mere hours after being brought in by Two-Bit and his mother. He passed away before Dallas even got there, and when he learned he missed Johnny in his final moments, he was LIVID. He was given one of the flowers that had been pulled from Johnny's throat in an attempt to clear his airway to allow him to breath. A yellow Camelia, it was different from the various pink ones that were plucked from the boys mouth. Yellow was Dally's favorite color. He fell into a deep depression the weeks after, keeping that flower with him at all times. What could have caused this? Why his Johnnycake of all things? He had half mind to go take his seat early up there to see Johnny, but Darry kept him grounded enough to shove the thoughts away.
A funeral was held for Johnny. It wasn't nothing fancy, the gang couldn't scrap enough money together to even afford a coffin. But they buried Johnny up on a hill where he'd always see the sunrise and sunset. Dally had come last, right near the end. He had that yellow Camellia with him still, but this time he also had a sunflower, which he placed on the freshly turned soil of Johnny's grave and whispered that he hoped he could forgive him for whatever he did. Little did Dallas know, even from beyond the grave, Johnny already had. In his dying moments he'd thought about Dally and how he forgave him even for the sickness that was tossed upon him because of what he did. Johnny never could be mad at Dally.
He was his hero after all. Dally visited Johnny's grave frequently, saying nothing as he drowned himself in alcohol. He stayed there for many nights, having no place to go but the fleeting comfort of his dead best friend. Darry would check there and always have to herd him back to his house so he wouldn't catch hypothermia and sleep off his buzz.
Dally would stare at that yellow flower at most times when he missed Johnny, which was all the time. Camellias really were beautiful flowers, and he was starting to find them to be his favorite.