Chapter Text
Twilight's office was meticulously organized. Each file was aligned, each pen in its holder. Books on trauma and behavioral analysis lined the shelves in perfect alphabetical order. Even the photo frames on his desk, turned inward, served as props for his brilliant deception.
And then there was Twilight himself. Her mentor stood before her, haloed in fluorescent light, lab coat impeccably crisp, glasses slipping just so. The paragon of poise and perfection.
Oh, Twilight, how magnificent you are!
This was the highlight of Nightfall's day, standing in her mentor's office as she handed him that week's mission files. Sometimes, if she positioned her hands just so, their fingers would brush, like they did today. The fleeting contact sent a jolt of electricity straight into her heart.
Struggling to keep calm, her gaze fell to the floor, where it snagged on a blot of red. Leaning down for a closer look, Nightfall noticed its delicate softness and curved edges. Not blood, just a petal. She was just about to pick it up when Twilight beat her to it, slipping it into his lab coat.
Odd. A cursory glance around the room showed not a single flower. Where then, did the petal come from?
Twilight cleared his throat. "Ah... That must have blown in from the hallway. I'll toss it in the waste basket later."
Nodding solemnly, Nightfall didn't question the matter further. Twilight kept his office immaculate, so naturally, any blemish within this sacred space could only be the doing of some bumbling passerby—perhaps that fool Gorey. Certainly not Twilight, whose every movement was precision personified. And definitely not Nightfall herself, who devoted every ounce of her being to following in her mentor's flawless footsteps.
Tucking the folders beneath his arm, he gave her a meaningful look. She held his gaze, silently willing him to see into her soul.
Twilight. Twilight. Twilight!
"Um... Fiona...?"
Was this it? Was he about to offer her the role of his wife?
"Yes, Dr. Forger?"
He opened his mouth, paused, then cleared his throat.
"Thank you for delivering the patient files. I'll get started on them right away."
"Of course, Dr. Forger."
Just before the door clicked shut behind her, a light cough pierced the quiet.
Fire ignited in her chest at the sound.
Oh, that incompetent woman! If I were his wife, Twilight would never have gotten even a sniffle!
Sullenly, Nightfall trudged back to the nurse's station when her coworkers' conversation caught her attention.
"I've noticed a lot more people with Hanahaki lately."
"Isn't it exciting, though? Especially last week when Patrick began coughing up flower petals. And right in front of Patricia!"
"I know! Isn't it just so romantic?"
Normally, Nightfall had neither the time nor patience for workplace gossip, but something in their words paused her mid-step.
Coughing up flower petals? It sounded absurd, and yet... Could it be?
She turned on her heel. This required additional investigation.
"Excuse me. Please give me further insight into your discussion."
"Oh, hello Fiona!" The two nurses cheerfully shifted over to make space for her. "Are you interested in the flower disease too?"
A disease?! Was Twilight going to die?!
"Flower disease?"
"You know, Hanahaki. The disease of unrequited love."
"I see. And you know people who have succumbed to this affliction?"
One nurse blinked, brows knitting in confusion, but the other lit up in sudden realization.
"Oh! You must mean Patrick and Patricia!"
Fiona nodded. "Yes. Them."
"Right, right! Well, Patrick was desperately in love with Patricia, but since she was engaged to someone else, he decided to suffer in silence until the day the flowers took him."
"But then during Patricia's wedding rehearsal, Patrick couldn't breathe and collapsed right in the aisle—you know, from all the petals building up inside him."
"Patricia begged him to go to the hospital, but he refused. And then..." One of them leaned in, voice dropping. "A single petal slipped from his lips."
"That's when Patricia realized. And of course, once she confessed her love too, the disease vanished."
Both nurses sighed dreamily.
Nightfall's heart pounded.
That must have been what he was trying to tell her earlier!
There was no other explanation—Twilight was in love with her. But his unwavering commitment to peace prevented him from confessing the boundless depths of his devotion, so he chose to suffer in silence while the blossoms slowly consumed him.
She pictured him, alone in the dead of night, stoically coughing up petals, silently building her portrait with each bloom.
Twilight, you fool! How could you ever doubt my love for you?
If only she had been in Ostania when Strix was assigned, Twilight would have never contracted the flower disease! But no—there was still time. As the woman he loved, she couldn't let it end like this.
"Thank you for enlightening me."
Nightfall walked away, furiously planning how she would save her beloved.
Watching her quick retreat, one nurse murmured, "I hope she's not upset that we spoiled the ending for her."
"Nah, she didn't seem that invested."
"Are you kidding? She practically sprinted away. I bet she's binging all five seasons tonight!"
The very next day, Nightfall marched into WISE's main Berlint base, stopping only once she stood before the Fullmetal Lady's desk.
Without prompting, she requested that their handler reassign all of Twilight's missions to other agents. She could not allow his already fragile health to deteriorate further under the weight of his duties.
Any other time, Nightfall would have taken on the missions personally in order to prove herself to her mentor, but not this time. This time, she was needed for a much more critical mission—confessing her undying love.
"Twilight is ill, you say?" said their handler.
"Gravely," Nightfall intoned.
"I've never heard of this illness before."
"From my understanding, there has been a recent uptick in cases at the hospital."
"What are the symptoms?"
"Coughing up flower petals, difficulty breathing, and if left untreated," she paused, pain twisting her heart, "death."
Their handler frowned, not bothering to disguise her skepticism.
"That sounds like the plot of a trashy romance novel."
Leather creaked as Nightfall clenched her fists. How dare she belittle Twilight's pain!
"I assure you, Hanahaki is a very real disease."
One of the older agents perked up at this, sharing a look with the Fullmetal Lady, but Nightfall took no notice.
"I suppose we shouldn't dismiss the possibility out of hand..." Their handler crossed her arms, deep in thought. "In that case, I want you to conduct thorough research into this ill—"
"There's no time to waste," Nightfall interrupted sharply. "I must devote every ounce of my strength to saving him. I'm the only one who can."
Before anyone could respond, she had already swept out of the hideout, door clanging noisily behind her.
Sylvia rubbed her temples in an effort to stave off the oncoming migraine, but didn't miss the remaining agent's look of sympathy.
"You look like you want to say something."
"Well..." he scratched beneath his mustache. "Do you think she realizes Hanahaki was the season five plot of Berlint in Love?"
Sylvia sighed, deeply regretting not adding rum to her morning coffee.
Honestly, how did this show even make it past the SSS's censors?