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He gazes at the single pink petal he had cough out, soft and fragile in his palm.
Ahh...
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Claude has always been aware of his feeling for Leo; he had accepted the fact long ago. But what he didn’t expect is the cruel repercussion that would come along with it—his longing for the boy manifesting as flower petals taking root inside of him.
It started gentle—a reminder. A few flower petals strewn over his pillow when he woke in the morning, or a single petal flying out from an exhale of breath.
And then an itch in his throat—excusing himself from singing during the casual karaoke hangout his friends would go to on the weekend,
“You’re not going to sing?” Leo would ask.
“Nah, I’ll sit out this time.” He would reply—casual.
“Your voice kinda sound different, are you getting sick or something?”
“Just a sore throat.” He lied.
Then the cough—dry mix with bloodied petals. A coughing fit, the type that leaves him heaving afterwards. It tore from his lungs, the thorns scratching his throat.
“You, okay?” The boy he loves so deeply would ask.
“I’m good, just a cough.” Claude would reply, his voice hoarse. Hand over his mouth trying to keep the petals in.
“Oh, let’s go pick up some meds after class then. I know some good ones you can try.” Leo says, caring and genuine as always. A gesture of care towards his best friend.
But Claude can feel his cough worsen.
Then his breath—shorter than before. The sight of the boy with gray hair and beautiful pink eyes taking his breath away.
The hit on his health began to take root on his mental. His jealousy manifesting from ugly insecurities. Overthinking every single word, every single compliment Leo would give to others, every laugh and time Leo would share with anyone that’s not him. Blaming everything on his lacking self.
“Omg you’re so good at this.” Leo would compliment someone. Leo is right, he agrees if anything. It’s a good thing; people deserve to be praise. He should be happy for them. But all he could think about was how horrible he is in comparison. It was far from the truth. He knows that’s not true, he knows it was only his brain being mean to him. But what he thought didn’t matter, it’s Leo’s that does.
Every hearty laugh caused by someone else, every time Leo choses to sit next to someone else instead of him, or that time Leo spend days hanging out with someone new he recently got close with.
Every little thing.
It was childish, selfish, it was things that shouldn’t even matter, but Claude still can’t help getting hurt. He wanted so badly yet so doubtful that he would ever be wanted back. Insecurities fogging his judgment that everything seems like a proof—a testament that he was unlovable, dispensable, that Leo wouldn’t care if he were to suddenly disappear from his life.
As he grows more desperate, so does the roots in his lungs.
But more than the sting in his throat, the painful roots grappling onto his insides or his shorten breath, he was terrified. He didn’t want Leo finding out about his feelings.
He had half the heart to confess to Leo before—he just needed time to build his courage. But then the disease came along and changes everything. No matter how gentle Leo would’ve rejected him—the price of unreciprocated feeling is now ten times worse. Rejection before would’ve been a sign for him to move on, rejection now would mean death, and Leo would undoubtedly piece things together.
The thought of Leo blaming himself for his death or the thought of dying with Leo no longer by his side. Both equally scary, both a lose-lose situation.
If he was going to die anyway, he’d rather die with Leo still by his side, even just as friends.
And then came the sleepless night—chocking from the petals spilling from his mouth as he sobs. Broken and raw, chest heaving and barely able to breathe. He can’t tell if he’s crying from the pain or his feelings anymore.
“Leo…” he would chant—beg—pitifully in between sobs, like a prayer, like a wish to be save, to not be alone. Desperate for any kind of miracle to take his pain away.
His condition worsens in the next weeks, barely sleeping, barely eating, his mind blurring. Claude gazes at himself in the mirror and he barely recognizes himself. His cheek sunken, hollow eyes tired and hazy, his skin pale—he looks sick. No words come out his mouth at the view in front of him, he just scoff, mocking himself.
He began to slowly distance himself from his friends—from Leo. Making shallow excuses and purposely taking different routes in the building just to avoid them, ghosting them in the pretense of being busy, avoiding classes he knows they were going to be in. The petals became harder to hide, and he didn’t want them to see him like this, he didn’t want to be question, to explain. Leo notices of course, but Claude was practically running from him for days.
Still Leo didn’t let him, he didn’t stop chasing Claude until he finally caught him in a quiet corridor. Claude was in a daze, and he didn’t realize Leo was following him until the gray grabs him by his arm, forcing him to face him.
“Claude.” Leo calls out, his voice stern.
Claude doesn’t answer, he couldn’t even look at Leo in his eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead. The air goes silent as Leo slowly gazes the blonde’s face, and almost immediately his eyes widen with worries. He hadn’t seen Claude in a while thanks to him avoiding Leo and now that he finally could take a good look at his best friend—he looks ghostly, anybody could tell how unwell he is. It’s clear he hasn’t been eating or sleeping well.
“What’s wrong?” Leo asks, straightforward. Claude is clearly not doing well, and he need answers to help him.
Claude flinch at the question, he didn’t expect such simple words to hit him like a punch to his gut. His heart wanes, purple eyes prickle with tears. He wants to answer that question so badly, to tell Leo what’s wrong, to jump into Leo’s embrace, to be hold while he cries into his arm—But he didn’t.
Instead, he blinks back his tears and swallows the sobs threatening to spill, eye still avoiding the gray’s gaze. “Nothing, I’m fine.” He says as he almost chokes on his words.
“Claude, please—don’t lie to me.”
Claude feels his throat tighten, the petals boiling up in lumps, he feels like he’s going to throw up. He wrings his arm away from Leo rougher than intended, and Leo’s slightly hurt expression a stab in his stomach.
He runs—attempts to run. But before he could get far, he stumbles after turning a corner, the lack of oxygen and running not a good combination. His breath shallow as he tries his best to steady his breathing.
But the root twists and his breath hitches, one arm flying to steady himself on the wall. Then a moment of clarity as he finally realizes what he just did. Leo was being kind to him, and he pushes that kindness away so roughly.
So much for not wanting to hurt Leo.
Then before he could even think to stop it—like a knife tearing him from the inside, the flowers flow uncontrollably from his mouth. His breath ragged as he tries to hold onto his consciousness.
Shit—no, no, no
….
“Claude-!”
The last thing he heard before everything went dark.
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Claude woke up, his chest heavy, blinking as he takes in the surrounding—oh he’s in Leo’s room. A place he has stayed over multiple times before.
“You’re awake? How are you feeling?” A voice, familiar and warm—Leo.
Before the gray-haired boy could say anything else Claude immediately sat up, “Y-yeah, sorry Leo, I’ll get going—” he says hurriedly.
“Wait, there’s something we have to talk about, no?” Leo says firmly and Claude froze in place still sitting on Leo’s bed.
Leo sat on the bed facing Claude, eyes reading the blonde’s face who’s refusing to meet his eyes.
“Is there anything you want to tell me Claude?” Leo asks, voice unbearably gentle.
Claude heart thumps loudly against his chest at the question. “No.” He lets out without thinking, too fast to be natural.
The room felt into silence, heavy and stifling—a contrast to their usual comfortable and casual hangouts. The petals threatening to spill from his lips again.
Then without warning Leo broke the silence, “I saw it, Claude. The flower petals I mean.”
Oh…
Claude heart sinks into his stomach, he feels dizzy. He dreads the explanation, the eventual outcome of this conversation.
“Hanahaki disease, right?” Leo continues. Claude doesn’t answer, his shoulder slump forward, head drooping down like he has given up on everything.
But Leo refuses to give up, he’ll do anything to help his best friend. So, with a deep breath and voice full of conviction, he places his hand on top of Claude’s, “Who is it?”
Claude stays quiet, tears prickling his eyes as his ear began to buzz at Leo’s words.
“Tell me Claude, maybe I can help you hm?” Leo doesn’t give up, leaning closer towards the blonde. His tone betraying him as clear worriedness slips through, he can’t lose his best friend like this.
Claude’s shoulder began to shake, sobs and petals threatening to spill as he kept his mouth shut.
“Claude please, tell me-” Leo continues to pester as he reaches out to Claude, desperate for him to say something, anything. But before his hand could touch the blonde’s cheek, Claude snap—pushing Leo away for him.
“It’s you dumbass—! Who else if not you…” Claude shouted, voice trailing off as he began to sob, tears falling down his cheek in fat droplets.
Leo froze, eyes wide as his brain catch up with Claude’s words. For a moment the room was filled with nothing but the sound of Claude’s cries—vulnerable and broken.
Leo sits himself up properly, carefully scooting closer to Claude again. He stutters as he tries to pick himself up, still in shock of the sudden revelation, “C-Claude,” he says, placing his hand on Claude’s shoulder.
Claude didn’t answer as he continue to avoid Leo’s eye contact.
“Claude listen to me.” He tries again. Claude sobs calms into sniffles and Leo took a deep breath before speaking, “I…I love you too Claude” Leo confesses.
Claude eyes widen slightly as he stares at Leo, a beat of silence before he finally speaks,
“Don’t fuck with me Leo, it’s not funny.” Claude says, his voice trembling, doubtful purple eyes looking straight into Leo’s.
“If you’re saying that just to help me—” Claude continues before Leo cuts him off,
“I-I’m not, I’ve always liked you Claude... I- I thought you knew this.”
“What?” Claude still in disbelief, but tears began to roll down his cheek again.
Leo took another deep breath, hand still on the other’s shoulder, “I love you Claude Clawmark, I love you so much—with my whole being.” He says again, firmer this time.
No words comes out of Claude’s mouth, he just started crying again and so Leo pulls him into hug, relief when Claude hugs him back—his hand gripping tightly onto Leo’s shirt.
“You’re not lying? Please don’t lie to me.” Claude suddenly asks, his voice broken and anxious.
“No, why would I lie about stuff like this.” Leo responds, firm.
“I love you, Claude.” He reiterates and tighten his arm around him. “I love you so much.” he repeats.
“Mm.” Claude hums after a while like he finally believes Leo’s words.
They continue to stay like that, Leo’s hand rubbing soft circles on Claude’s back as he cries into his shoulder.
After a few minutes Leo speaks first, his voice soft, “I’m sorry I didn’t realize earlier, thinking back the signs were all there I should’ve notice. I’m sorry Claude.”
“Why are you even apologizing, you didn’t do anything…I was just too much of a coward to confess.” Claude replies, his voice slightly hoarse.
“I…I was scared that you would hate me if you found out, or that you would blame yourself if you couldn’t reciprocate my feelings.” He continues, mumbling into Leo’s shoulder.
“You know I would never hate you.” Leo says.
They finally pull back from their hug and Leo cups Claude’s face, thumb gently wiping the remnants of tears from his cheek. Leo gaze lingers at Claude’s face—he looks a bit better than before, but the fragments of what he went through with the disease still apparent on his face.
Leo eyes soften, “You look exhausted, why don’t you stay over hm? We can order some food and chill. I have extra towels and stuff if you want to take a shower or anything.”
A faint smile crept up Claude’s face, “Hm, I’d like that.”
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The next morning came peaceful; Claude wakes up to Leo snuggling into his neck—the comfortable quiet of morning humming in between them. Claude stares into the ceiling, taking in the comfort he hadn’t felt in a while since the disease starts to plague him.
“Good morning…” A sleepy voice came from beside him.
“Morning.” He greeted back.
Leo smiles, “How do you feel? The flowers I mean.” He asks.
“Better…” Claude responds.
“That’s good,” Leo says as he sits up, his gray hair a mess from sleep. "Let's hope it continues to get better."
For a moment Claude just stares at Leo before suddenly blurting out, voice barely above a whisper “I love you.” he says before he even realizes it.
Leo froze, stunned for a while before he smiles fondly, leaning and pecking a kiss on Claude’s forehead, affirming, “I love you too.”
Then he continues, giggling as his hand cups Claude’s cheek, “I’ll say it no matter how many times it takes for you to believe me.”