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Wenona can pinpoint the exact moment the flower blooms in her lungs.
Ulysses was at her side, and Wenona had made some dry, sardonic remark in response to his musings. Something that she can’t even remember anymore, because every thought in her mind had promptly disappeared at the sound of him laughing, face unobscured by his notebook. And she’s so transfixed by the sight of a real, genuine smile on his face that for a brief moment she forgets how to even breathe.
Ulysses laughs, and in that moment Wenona can no longer deny the feelings in her heart.
She dutifully suppresses the cough that tickles her lungs, and maintains her usual frosty facade. And when the day is over and Wenona heads over to the bathroom, she is not surprised by the burning in her throat. Wenona coughs, and pink petals litter the sink basin. She reaches for one delicate petal, stained with blood, and stares at it lying in the middle of her palm.
“This is annoying.” Wenona comments to herself.
Dread settles comfortably in her chest. She'd known she was never getting out of here alive.
“…No, Ulysses won't be executed if you perish from the Hanahaki disease. It would be counted as a suicide…with the illness technically being the blackened, no executions would occur.” Tozu answers helpfully.
“When I perish,” Wenona corrects, “and that’s a relief. Thank you, that’s all I wanted to discuss.”
She leaves Tozu puzzled in the boiler room and takes a trip to the courtyard to clear her thoughts.
There were several types of Hanahaki, and Wenona had dearly hoped she had the platonic kind. But she had searched in the library, and identified the pink flowers blooming in her lungs as forget-me-nots. With several descriptors such as undying love, and a wish the recipient not be forgotten. Which was exactly what she hadn't wanted to see.
The most deadly kind of flowers to grow in your lungs were blue roses - a sign of unobtainable love. Receiving those was a death sentence - the object of your confessions would never return your feelings. All you could do is enter palliative care and put your affairs in order before you inevitably died.
Yet as Wenona stands in the empty courtyard, she wishes those blue petals had fallen from her lips instead. Reciprocation from Ulysses was unlikely, but in a world where she was cured by his love, they would undoubtedly become targets. Confessing would only place her in more danger than she was in now. It was cruel, the hope dangled in front of her face. But she was better off not indulging it.
So Wenona vows to keep her mouth shut.
She begins growing weak in a matter of days. First, she had feigned her discomfort as period pain, but when her breathing became laboured, Ulysses had caught on fast and kept her on bedrest, watching over her almost all the time. It doesn’t make it easy for her to sneak away and cough up the bloody flowers growing in her heart, but she manages it, leaving no trace of blood or petals behind. And Wenona would’ve kept managing it, until the very last time where she’d coughed so hard she’d felt like she was being stabbed through the heart and blacked out.
When she came to, Wenona was lying on the floor. Ulysses staring at her, tears in his eyes.
”Hanahaki…?” He lowers himself to her side on the ground. “W-Wenona, who is it? We can still save you if you confess and they return your affections-“
”It’s…better this way…” The pain is turning into a searing ache, spreading to every inch of her body. It’ll be over soon, she thinks. Ulysses will be safe. Jean can watch over him in her absence.
“Is it Damon? O-Or Jean, or…” Ulysses takes her hand firmly, unbothered by the blood coating her fingertips. “Wenona, is it me?”
She tenses up. An excuse is on her lips, but it’s too late - Ulysses has already seen her hesitation.
”Is it me, Wenona?” he repeats urgently. "You can survive this-"
"It doesn't matter. We'll both die anyway." So close to death, the vice-like grip Wenona has on her emotions loosen - her vision grows blurry, and her voice wobbles treacherously. "If I answer, I'll doom you-"
"I can't let you doom yourself." he decides. "I'm unable to save you if you don't tell me, Wenona. Please - is it me?"
In response to his heartfelt plea, her fingers curl around the bloodied flower stems on the floor. With a shaking hand, she extends the makeshift bouquet in his direction.
His eyes widen, a brilliant red blush spreading across his face, and in the back of Wenona’s pain-riddled mind, she realises she’s found a new sight for her to be transfixed by.
As he gently takes the flowers from her grasp, Wenona already feels the pain subsiding, the painful ache in her chest lessening. She can breathe normally, the scratchy feeling that used to come with every breath fading away. She sits up, looking around at all the blood on the floor. Too much blood. Wenona was closer to death than she thought. And now she's extended her life a mere number of days, all because she was swayed by her emotions. They'll come running eventually, looking for Ulysses. And then they'll see the floor covered in blood and petals, and Wenona with a bloody mouth but magically well again. And then someone will get the bright idea to target the new couple.
Couple.
Ulysses hugs her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder. And Wenona starts to think that facing that danger might not be so bad after all, if she has Ulysses by her side.