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It started with a speck. A small, brown speck that stained Andrew’s palm upon contact. He hadn’t even coughed that hard—more of a throat clearing, really—but the thin line of soot where he’d tried to wipe away the speck remained. After a few hard scrubs in the sink, the darkness disappears. Andrew forces the strange speck out of his mind, but he can't wash away the discomfort that settles in his chest like an ominous foreboding.
A pair of piercing blue eyes peer into the mirror behind Andrew. Strands of auburn hang in their way. Andrew clenches his hands against the edge of the sink to stop himself from sweeping Neil’s bangs out of his face.
“You left the door open,” Neil says, nodding toward the bathroom door as if to blame it for his intrusion. “You don’t normally do that.”
The concern in his tone is unwarranted, so Andrew pushes past him in lieu of answering to take a seat at his desk. Their university uniform is a standard set of black slacks with a white dress shirt and an orange tie or sweater depending on the weather, but Neil has forgone the orange and let his top few buttons lie open in the comfort of their private room, making the damp handprint Andrew left on Neil's chest look that much more alluring.
"Do you need anything?" Neil asks, snapping Andrew from his lecherous thoughts. He doesn't follow Andrew, allowing him space in their small dorm, but Andrew can feel Neil's gaze boring a hole through his back—too observant for his own good where it doesn't matter.
"No," Andrew answers briefly. Despite his effort to make it sound casual, it falls flat.
Only silence follows. Against his better judgement, Andrew spins slowly in his chair to face his roommate.
A pang of something unpleasant weighs on Andrew's chest at the downtrodden turn of Neil's eyes and lips. This isn't how Andrew normally acts with Neil, and they both know it. But only Andrew knows why. That's how he'll keep it.
Short, repetitive movements catch Andrew's eye. Not noticing that Andrew's noticed, Neil continues picking at the skin around his thumb—a nervous habit Andrew picked up on shortly after they first met. It was usually reserved for pre-test jitters or the anxious build-up before a panic attack, which Andrew had been privileged to learn as his friendship with Neil grew.
Now, the weight in Andrew's chest grows immeasurably, sinking deep into him like a chain dragging him down to the depths of the ocean while his throat burns from the lack of oxygen. This is what he deserves for driving Neil to that point.
Neil starts, "If you're feeling… uncomfortable… because of what I asked, it's-"
"No," Andrew says quickly. He has to explain- How does he explain?
"It's okay," Neil cuts in before Andrew can gather his thoughts. "I know you missed having your own room. No worries." The fake smile he forces onto his otherwise perfect face cuts through Andrew like a knife, slashing through him over and over.
But what can he say? That he just realized he feels differently about Neil than he did before—in a way he doesn't quite understand yet? That, when it comes to Neil, he finds himself wanting to do more than a quickie in a broom closet like a random fling?
"Let me think about it," Andrew forces out. There's a lot he needs to think about, and he'll offer any truth—almost any truth—in this moment to get rid of that false expression marring Neil's face.
"Sure," Neil says easily, but his fingers continue to pick, pick, pick at his skin. All Andrew wants in this moment is to spring up from his chair and cover Neil's hands with his own, protecting Neil from himself. The red streak that follows Neil's next movement taunts Andrew and his inaction. Neil must finally notice—more so Andrew's gaze than the pain, knowing him—because he shoves his hands behind his back.
"I'm gonna head to the cafeteria with Kevin and Aaron," Neil says. "Text me if you want anything."
Andrew won't this time, but Neil will bring him back a sweet treat anyway.
—
Autumn is in full swing when Andrew steps out of class a few days later. Student chatter is nearly drowned out by the sharp crunching of leaves underfoot. A gust of wind sweeps through the outdoor corridor, sending a chill through Andrew's core. He walks across the courtyard—decorated in reds and browns from the dying foliage that contrast the four old, stone benches encircling an even older, grayer statue—and pulls his gaudy, orange scarf tighter around him. Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead in something so tacky, but it was from Neil, who has a matching one.
Sudden discomfort grips Andrew's chest with his next breath. He tries to suck in air, but an obstruction forces it out the way it came. Stumbling onto one of the cold, hard benches, Andrew leans forward and uses what air he has left in his lungs to cough hard, just once. It's just enough for something to dislodge from his airway and settle on his tongue. Spitting the object into his hand, it looks alien at first. Andrew pokes the orange flower petal, and it's soft and velvety beneath his touch. It's strangely pretty for something that was coughed up. Did he inhale it while he was walking through the courtyard without realizing?
"What's that?" a loud voice echoes painfully in Andrew's ear. Nicky sidesteps the hand Andrew automatically swats out in his direction—years of practice has made him adept at dodging—but Andrew catches him off guard with a kick.
As Nicky bounces in place, holding his wounded shin to his chest, Andrew tilts his hand and allows the wind to carry the thin petal from his hand.
"What's what?" Andrew replies, crossing his arms over his chest.
Nicky rolls his eyes. "Did you see my text?" Andrew's blank stare answers for him, so Nicky continues, "Do you want to come to the library to work on your Literature essay?"
In response, Andrew leans against the back of the uncomfortable bench in a failing effort to feign a relaxed comfort he hardly ever feels anyway.
"Okay," Nicky draws out with a dramatic sigh. "I guess it'll just be me… and Neil…"
"Oh, shut it," Andrew grumbles under his breath. He frowns at Nicky's shit-eating grin as it creeps into existence but follows his cousin regardless. Nicky chatters away as they walk, but Andrew isn't listening.
Growing up, Aaron always gave Nicky shit about his lower-than-average grades, which turned into group study sessions at their local library. Andrew didn't care one way or another, but at that age, he didn't go anywhere without Aaron, and Aaron didn't go anywhere without him. So, Andrew tagged along, dozing off through most of their meetings.
When the trio met Kevin half-way through their first year at the university, he self-imposed on their study sessions to force them to "live up to their potential." In turn, Andrew did everything he could to knock Kevin's arrogance down a notch—which was to say, he did nothing at all during their study sessions. Not even sleep. He just stared blankly at Kevin and refused to participate. The redness that crept into Kevin's face was more satisfying than he'd thought it would be.
But Andrew couldn't deny that Kevin had helped his family. Aaron's already good grades became nearly perfect, and Nicky started getting A's for the first time in his life. It was only then that Andrew uncrossed his arms and took a few notes. Not that he really cared about improving his grades. He'd never scored below a B.
And then they met Neil. The skittish and scarred blue-eyed beauty that captured Andrew's attention immediately. They were paired together as roommates for Neil's first year (Andrew's second). As much as he loathed losing his single-person room, Andrew could neither help nor explain the draw he felt to Neil. Unfortunately, Nicky picked up on Andrew's strange behavior after only a few months and had been lording that knowledge over him ever since. Andrew only tolerated it because they both knew what would happen if Nicky actually loosened his lips.
By random chance—fate, as Nicky called it—they'd been paired together as roommates again this year. Despite their previous year together, Andrew had only recently begun self-reflecting on his feelings for Neil. As much as the thought made his chest ache, he had hoped a year in a single-person room would help him figure everything out, but he couldn't bring himself to feel disappointed that he was rooming with Neil again either. It was just… complicated.
"Andrew?"
The subject crowding Andrew's thoughts nearly 24 hours a day suddenly appears before him. He didn't realize they'd made it to the library already.
"Neil," Andrew returns. It's a simple and unenthusiastic greeting, but Neil's face lights up like a beacon beckoning him closer—a lighthouse in the blurry fog of his daily life. He nearly has to dig his heels into the ground to avoid leaning too far into Neil's space. For good measure, he plops down in the chair across from Neil and yanks his notebook out of his bag to start on his essay.
"Glad you decided to join us," Neil says. He leans forward over his open books to whisper conspiratorially, "I was hoping you wouldn't leave me alone with Aaron."
Aaron?
The man in question drops a stack of books in the middle of the table and slides into the seat beside Neil. "Okay, Kevin recommended these for our references. He said he'd come by when his class ends."
Andrew swivels slowly in his seat to glare daggers at Nicky beside him and meets the already-formed guilty grimace settled on Nicky's face.
"Great!" Nicky squeaks. "Isn't it so nice that we can all study together?" He scurries to gather his materials from his bag and throws open one of the books without another word, eyes glued to the page.
Resigning to his fate, Andrew takes solace in the fact that every time he glances up from his scribbled notes, he's met with the sight of long lashes coyly concealing pools of blue and a flash of white each time Neil nibbles on his bottom lip upon reaching a difficult passage.
Forcing his gaze to his own paper, Andrew focuses on his own assignment. The materials Kevin recommended prove useful, as always—not that Andrew will give him the satisfaction of knowing that. He'd be even more insufferable than he already is.
Time flies as Andrew's pen darts across the page. His eyes jump from the textbook to his notebook and back again. Before long, the overhead chandeliers illuminate the library as the sunlight that had been streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows fades. Dull cramps pulse through Andrew's hand as he sets his pen on the table and takes a final look through his finished essay.
Flexing his aching hand, Andrew notices Aaron and Nicky's empty chairs.
"They went to the cafeteria to meet Kevin," Neil answers his unasked question. They've only known each other for a little over a year, but Neil is the only person who can read his expressionless face with near perfect accuracy. Despite that, Neil still hasn't caught on to Andrew's feelings. Andrew hasn't decided if that's a relief or a disappointment.
"Not hungry?" Andrew asks, not daring to verbalize the hope swelling within.
Neil shrugs. "I didn't want to leave you alone."
And there it is. Consideration Andrew dares not hope for, but Neil offers anyway. Hope melts into longing, constricting painfully in Andrew's chest. Without realizing, Andrew finds himself leaning forward against the edge of the table. He would have straightened his posture immediately had Neil not followed his lead.
"About earlier…" Neil starts quietly. He pauses for a moment, nibbling at his bottom lip again as it contorts into a frown. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot by suggesting we room together for the rest of our time here." He lets out a brief, hollow chuckle that tugs at Andrew's heartstrings. "I understand why you wouldn't want to-"
"That's not it," Andrew cuts in, and he's relieved to see Neil's conflicted expression relax. "It's-"
The tightening in Andrew's chest intensifies like a hand taking hold of his heart and squeezing painfully. "I just-" Despite his effort to hide it, he winces against the pain.
"Andrew?" Neil asks, leaning forward further, concern laced in his furrowed brows. "Are you okay?"
The pressure sinks to his abdomen. Like tidal waves, Andrew's stomach rolls over itself. He needs a bathroom. Now.
"One minute." Andrew barely gets the words out before he's nearly tripping over his own feet to the library bathroom as quickly as possible. Luckily, it appears empty as he barrels through the door and throws himself into the nearest sink. Turning on the water almost drowns out the sounds of his dry heaving. There's something at the back of his throat, he can feel it. He can't breathe, he needs to get it out, get it out—
Crimson splatters the sink, running down the drain like blood. A pale orange blossom with rouge speckles bobs atop the swirling pool of blood orange water that has backed up in the sink basin. Silence returns to the room as Andrew turns off the faucet. He swipes a hand across his mouth and looks up to check his reflection-
Nicky's face stares back at him in abject horror.
A new wave of panic grips his throat, and he chokes on his next inhale. Coughing down into the sink, Andrew curses as he fights to regain his composure.
"Dammit, Nicky," Andrew growls. He tosses a scoop of running water over his face and yanks a handful of paper towels from the dispenser, heedlessly drying his skin and reusing the wet towels to chuck the foreign plant matter through the flaps of the trash lid without directly touching it.
"Andrew-"
Andrew spins around on his cousin, taking a page from Neil's book at pretending to feel fine, and crosses his arms with a huff. "What are you doing in here?"
"Me?" Nicky asks, his mouth parting incredulously. "I was just coming back to check on you guys, and I saw you- What the hell was that?" He points an accusatory finger at the now-empty sink.
"Nothing," Andrew mutters, tearing his gaze from the worry in Nicky's eyes. He starts toward the door, but Nicky's long legs beat him to it, standing between him and his escape.
"Andrew, this is crazy," Nicky says firmly. His eyes dart between Andrew and the trash. "You just- A flower was-"
"It's nothing, Nicky." Andrew mirrors his tone, narrowing his eyes and keeping his voice steady despite the discomfort that remains in his chest and throat. "Leave it alone."
Ensuring his word is final, Andrew shoulders past Nicky and hurries out of the bathroom. Nicky neither protests nor pursues Andrew, which is a first. But by the time Andrew returns to the study table, Neil is gone.
—
When Andrew wakes up the next morning, the room is suspiciously quiet. Normally, Neil starts his Saturday with a run and is already showering by the time Andrew gets up. This morning, however, the sound of running water is absent. Andrew turns his head to the side to find Neil's side of the room empty. A quick look at Neil's digital alarm clock reveals it to be just before 8:00 am. Neil would have been back by now.
Groaning, Andrew brings himself to sit and rubs the sleep from his eyes as he blindly searches the nightstand for his phone. Finding it reveals a single unread text from Neil. Neil, who is notorious for leaving his phone in the dorm or forgetting to check it for days on end. Worry nags at the back of Andrew's mind as he opens the message.
Neil: library
That's… odd. Forcing ten thousand negative scenarios from his mind, Andrew hurries to get ready and heads to the library. His stomach howls at him as he passes the cafeteria. As much as he'd rather secure himself a loaded weekend breakfast, the handful of snacks he always keeps stashed in his bag will do for now. Using his teeth, he tears the wrapper off a mini granola bar and stuffs the thing into his mouth like a chipmunk. He needs to know why Neil has summoned him before his anxiety will allow him to do anything else.
The library is empty on a Saturday morning. Duh. Andrew would also rather be anywhere else, but a waving hand catches his attention. As Andrew starts forward, Neil ducks behind a row of books like an apparition. Andrew follows the ghost of Neil between shelves toward the back of the library. Finally, Neil slips into a private study room. The hair on the back of Andrew's neck prickles at the unsettling situation, but he follows Neil inside.
The door closes behind him almost immediately. Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin are seated at the study table. Books are strewn across the surface but carefully surround a beautiful yet familiar centerpiece.
An orange flower.
Specifically, the flower Andrew threw up the day before. It sits atop a red-stained paper towel like a decapitated dictator being paraded through the streets of a newly freed nation.
A toxic tornado of confusion, anxiety, and betrayal swirl in Andrew's stomach. He was so preoccupied with getting Nicky off his back yesterday and Neil's disappearance this morning, he hadn't even stopped to think about the flower incident itself yet.
"I'm sorry for ambushing you," Neil starts, staying beside Andrew instead of sitting with the rest of the group. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to. But we want to help."
Andrew meets Neil's steady gaze. His hands are behind his back, and Andrew can only imagine he's picking at his cuticles under Andrew's scrutiny. But those deep, crystalline oceans are clear. Andrew finds only truth within.
In turn, Andrew swivels his gaze to Nicky, allowing his eyes to soften more than feels natural for his cousin's well-intentioned intervention. The wrinkles in Nicky's forehead subside, and he wipes his palms on his pants.
Andrew sighs. "Where do we start?"
"We already did!" Nicky chimes in with a hesitant smile. "Actually, we might have found an answer."
That takes Andrew by surprise. He hadn't even had a chance to worry about his own condition, but they already found a diagnosis? Andrew looks back at Neil. He was so focused on determining Neil's intentions, he missed the dark bags under his eyes.
"How long have you been here?" Andrew asks, partially dreading the answer.
"Since you puked up this weird thing yesterday and didn't think to tell anyone," Aaron responds. Annoyance laces through the concern in his tone. "Were you just going to wait until you had vines growing out of your eyes before asking for help?"
Like proper twins, Andrew mirrors Aaron's eyebrow raise. "I'm sure I would have taken care of it by then."
Aaron rolls his eyes, but Kevin pipes up instead. "Do you want the answer or not?"
At Kevin's words, Neil nods toward the table and moves to take a seat, so Andrew follows. "Hit me with it."
Kevin begins, "It seems to be Hanahaki Disease. Most articles are from Japan, but it's so rare, most believe it to be a hoax or a myth. There are no peer-reviewed journal articles documenting legitimate cases, so it's difficult to discern fact from fiction."
Andrew frowns with each word Kevin speaks. "Why do you think I have a disease that probably doesn't exist?"
Silence settles upon the room as Kevin stares down at the closed book in front of him. It takes a moment for him to respond. When he does, his voice is quiet and thin. "Because I've seen it. I just didn't know what it was at the time."
The admission hits Andrew like a freight train and forces him to face reality. Whatever this… thing is… It isn't a weird nightmare or a delusion from the stress of exams. This is real.
Kevin explains, "I lived in Japan for a time when I was a teenager. There was a boy in my neighborhood that gave me flowers—bright blue, almost purple. He said they were Asiatic Dayflowers. The blooms only survived for one day. 'Day' flowers. They were meant for me.
"But he was controlling and envious with our friendship, so I refused the flowers. That only enraged him. He dragged me to his house and showed me how he came by the flowers as a way to prove his devotion. I saw it with my own eyes. He pulled the flower out of his mouth where there hadn't been anything there before. He did it again and again until he passed out. I didn't know what else to do, so I dropped him off at a hospital and ran. I only had a week left in Japan by that point anyway."
Kevin's mouth formed a hard line. "I heard later that he'd grown so weak, his body couldn't take care of itself anymore. He died a week after I saw how he procured the flowers." A shuddered breath came from somewhere deep inside him. "I don't know how he contracted the disease, but my rejection killed him. It took me a long time to realize it wasn't my fault, but I wish I could have helped him."
Listening to Kevin's story, tears form in Nicky's eyes. He swipes them away quickly before asking, "So, what's the cure? How do we save Andrew?"
Kevin grimaces. "It's hard to know exactly, but from what I've read, the person for whom the flowers bloom must accept them. If they're rejected, well…"
The realization hangs over their heads like the blade of a guillotine.
Confess or die.
"So, who wants to read my eulogy?" Andrew deadpans, earning him a kick under the table from Aaron.
"Andrew," Kevin groans.
"The last thing I'm going to do is coerce someone into being with me through the threat of death," Andrew says firmly.
"You don't have to tell them about the disease! Just try to woo them," Nicky suggests. "If you can get them to fall for you naturally, that should cure this!"
"Easy."
"You're a catch! Just don't threaten to cut off their hands or glare at them."
Andrew rolls his eyes.
"Wait, why don't we just figure out what flower this is?" Nicky shouts excitedly. "If we know who it's meant for, we can help!"
"Nicky, no," Andrew says firmly. "That is the last thing you should do. In fact-" Andrew snatches the flower off the table and shoves it deep in his pocket.
Nicky whines with sagging shoulders. "Neil, you haven't said anything yet," he observes, lolling his gaze on Neil. Unwarranted hope brightens his expression. "What do you think?"
All eyes focus on Neil—Andrew's included.
"I think," Neil starts slowly, "we should honor Andrew's wishes."
A chorus of groans echo throughout the room.
"I'm not saying we should give up," Neil amends quickly. "But we need Andrew's consent or none of your ideas are going to work."
"I guess…" Nicky draws out with disappointment.
The group continues bouncing ideas off each other while Andrew drowns in his own thoughts. He's going to die unless he can resolve unrequited feelings? It sounds like something out of a bad romance novel or a hallucination caused by mass hysteria. And who is he expected to confess to? Unless…
Andrew glances at Neil out of the corner of his eye. Neil nods along to the group every so often, but he has his nose buried in a book of Japanese folklore. He's taking this just as seriously as everyone else.
If Neil really believes that this is what's going on, Andrew can't confess. Knowing Neil, he would accept just to try to save Andrew's life. How would Andrew live with himself if he guilted Neil into a relationship?
No. If this is real, there is no way he can tell Neil how he feels.
He's a dead man walking.
—
After downing a full cafeteria breakfast, Andrew parts ways with the rest of the group and returns to the dorm. Neil heads to the gym with Kevin while Aaron and Nicky return to the library to see if there's anything else they can dig up, so Andrew has the room to himself.
As soon as the door is locked behind him, Andrew carefully removes the crumpled flower from his pocket and sets it on his desk.
He knows, but he has to know for sure.
A quick internet search provides the answer Andrew was hoping he wouldn't find. Soft, buttery orange petals with red or dark orange streaks that primarily bloom in early autumn reveals only one result—a Nathaniel Dahlia.
—
As much as Andrew doesn't want to acknowledge it, Hanahaki Disease is real, and he has it. It's only been a day since the group diagnosed him, but he feels exponentially weaker. He almost wonders if the placebo effect is contributing to his failing well-being, but the fatigue that has settled deep within his bones is difficult to attribute to a psychological phenomenon. Based on Kevin's experience and the few internet posts that seemed potentially credible, he has about a week left before the disease takes its toll.
The first thing Andrew does on Sunday is expel a flower. Its beauty taunts him from the middle of the toilet basin, so he flushes it down to get it out of his sight. When he exits the bathroom, Neil quickly looks away from the door as if to successfully hide his stare.
Andrew has a reading to finish for class tomorrow, but he can't find the mental energy, so he pulls himself back into bed and curls up with his phone in hand.
"Can I get you anything?" Neil asks, turning in his desk chair to face Andrew. "You look pale."
"Thanks," Andrew says sarcastically. He knows they're all concerned, but there's nothing for them to do. He's practically resigned to wither away like the dying leaves outside. What other options are there?
Neil closes his textbook gently and walks across the room to Andrew's bed. He doesn't ask, so Andrew doesn't answer. But they both know what Neil is thinking.
—
On Wednesday, Andrew can't get himself up for class. The grip on his phone is weaker than the day before when he sends a brief message of absence to his professors. There's a trash can by his bed that he only notices when he retches over the side. Two dahlias conjoined at the base of their stems by a small knot of roots land in the bin.
Neil changes out the trash bag when he returns, but Andrew can't look him in the eye.
—
A bouquet erupts from Andrew on Friday, threatening to choke him with the long vines that linger in his throat as he forcefully pulls the flowers from his mouth. They're too thick and too many to cough out like before.
Gentle touches caress his forehead, pushing the hair away from his sweat-soaked skin. The fever that spiked last night still hasn't died down, and chills ravage his body. He's struggling to pull up his blankets when another hand fixes them for him.
"Couldn't you just give up?" a voice whispers in his ear. His intrusive thoughts haven't ever sounded like they came from an external source before, so this is new. Maybe he should just give up. He thought he already had, but despite his insistence that he wouldn't selfishly save himself, he clings to the voice like a lifeline.
"Give up on them, and start with someone new," Neil's voice whispers. His breath feels hotter than the fever against Andrew's ear.
Andrew's lips are painfully chapped when he responds. "Don't you think I would have… if I could?"
There's a hiccup in Neil's voice. Why does he sound like that?
"I would make this go away, if you would let me."
Emotion cracks through his carefully neutral tone. Andrew has never heard him like this.
"Why can't it be me?"
This must be the last stage of the disease. Auditory hallucinations and processing irregularities.
"If Neil were here… he'd kill you… for impersonating him," Andrew tells the imposter through ragged breaths.
"Yeah?" Neil asks with a dry chuckle. "What about you?"
In his mind's muddled state, Andrew isn't sure what the voice is specifically asking, so he lays out the truth he refused to divulge earlier as a final confession before his end. "I'd kiss him."
The hand moving through his hair stops for a brief moment before sliding to rest against his cheek. "Yeah?" Neil's voice asks again. It's closer now, enough to brush against his lips like a phantom.
"Yeah."
In Andrew's fever dream, lips press gently against his own. It's slightly painful due to the dryness of his cracking skin, but the reciprocating pair are warm and soft like he always imagined Neil's would be. It feels… shockingly real. Too real.
Opening his eyes is a herculean feat, but the reward is worth the effort. Neil's face fills his vision as their lips part. The numbness that had enveloped Andrew's body as it shut down begins to wane, and his fingers twitch at his side, desperate to feel Neil's skin beneath them. To know that it's real.
"I wish it were me," Neil whispers. It's almost inaudible, but Andrew catches it and refuses to let it go.
"You idiot," Andrew scoffs. He gathers his voice a bit more easily now, and his fingers find purchase in the loose fabric of Neil's uniform.
"Wha-"
"It is you," Andrew answers before Neil can ask.
A wrinkle forms between Neil's brows as if the words don't register, but with a gentle tug at his shirt from Andrew, he closes the distance between them once more. Andrew's eyes close willingly now. It's even better the second time.
Neil blinks rapidly as their lips separate once more, staring down at Andrew—disbelieving.
"Your dense nature used to give me headaches," Andrew starts, "but now it literally almost killed me."
Neil huffs out a bemused laugh. "I never thought…" He pauses. "But when I said we should room together, you seemed… displeased."
Andrew can breathe deeply for the first time in a week. The chills he was feeling have already faded, and the blanket is now an unnecessary barrier keeping him from Neil.
"I was… trying to figure out how to tell you first. In case that changed things."
"It changes things," Neil says with a nod. He leans forward to murmur against Andrew's lips, "But I think this is better."
At Andrew's wince, Neil backs off sharply. "Sorry."
"Don't be," Andrew answers. "Just need a salve or something."
Digging through the bag at the edge of his own bed, Neil pulls out his stick of lip balm and returns to Andrew's side quicker than Andrew could miss him. He slowly coats his own lips in a sheen layer before dropping it in Andrew's waiting palm.
"If we're discussing rooming together next year, I think we need to set some ground rules," Neil says, rubbing his lips together to disperse the balm.
"Hm?" Andrew responds distractedly, carefully coating his own lips to relieve the dryness as Neil climbs into bed beside him. The rest of the group will have a million questions about what ended up proving to be the cure, but for now, their private room was all theirs.
"No flowers."