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It starts around the time he loses his leg.
He occasionally coughs up something that looks like white and yellow camellia or primrose petals – but it happens rarely, so Clay doesn’t think much of it. He gets blood drawn a few times and undergoes x-rays as well, but the doctors never find anything.
After he and Stella decide that they work better as friends than as a married couple, Stella takes Brian for a visit to her parents.
Clay feels weird in the empty apartment, so he chooses to go to Sonny’s place, where he coughs up another handful of petals. This time it’s magnolia.
When he lays down on Sonny’s bed, he thinks about looking up the meaning of coughing up flower petals. He tries not to think about how the sheets smell like Sonny, who is visiting his daughter right now, or how much Clay misses him.
Clay finds horror stories about throwing up flowers that started to bloom in the heart and lungs, slowly suffocating the person who dies in great pain. The explanations vary between accidentally inhaled seeds and unrequited love. Clay rolls his eyes at this because he isn’t in love.
His and Stella’s breakup was mutual. Yes, there is love between them, but it slowly changed from romantic to platonic. Their feelings for each other have turned into friendship.
Clay doesn’t like to think about it too much because then he’d probably have to consider other friendships and feelings that may have changed over the years. Now that he isn’t a member of Bravo anymore, these thoughts come up more frequently. He isn’t sure he’ll be able to put these thoughts back into the proverbial Pandora's Box, once he allows himself to consider them and what they mean.
He puts his phone aside and closes his eyes, hoping to get some sleep. Which must have been successful because he abruptly wakes up from a noise. Before he can do anything, the bedroom door flings open, and Sonny is there with his gun drawn.
"Hey, it’s me!" Clay says quickly, propping himself up into a sitting position.
"Jesus Christ, I could have killed you!" Sonny snaps, lowering the gun. "What are you doing here?"
"Stella and Brian are at her parents, and…" Clay feels this weird sensation in his chest, like a tingling or scratch, often indicating a coughing fit is coming. "I thought you were in Texas."
"Yeah, I was, until Hanna’s sister showed up and…" Sonny mimes his head exploding, followed by a gesture of strangulation. "We’ll just never get along. She always tries to force Hanna to take the path sister dearest wants her to take…"
"And you aren’t a part of that path?" Clay guesses, shaking his head.
Whoever doesn’t want Sonny in their life really doesn’t know what they are missing out on. With Sonny in their lives, Hanna and Leanne couldn’t ask for a more loyal, caring, and brave person. Okay, Sonny is also stubborn and impulsive, but he still is one of the best people Clay has ever had the luck to meet, so…
"She asked about the wedding date and other details, and when we told her that there is no date, that we aren’t even together anymore, she started guilt-tripping Hanna and had the audacity to tell her their parents would be so disappointed…" Sonny is still furious just by remembering the situation alone. He stands there, wildly gesticulating, letting out every word, or rather spitting it out.
"You aren’t together anymore?" Clay tries to keep his voice even, but he sounds breathless. "You and Hanna, I mean?"
When the coughing starts, it looks like he has swallowed a bouquet of flowers. There are rose petals in different shades as well as magnolia and camellia petals, and he hates it.
"No, we… Jesus, what...?" Sonny immediately comes to his side, one of his palms on Clay’s back, the other one on his side. Clay hates not being able to stop coughing, and he hates seeing Sonny’s worried eyes.
"I’m okay," Clay tries to say, but it comes out as an unconvincing wheeze, making Sonny almost run out of the room.
He rushes back in a moment later, a glass of water in his hand. He sits down next to Clay, supports his back with his arm, and helps him drink.
"Sorry," Clay mutters when the coughing slowly ebbs away. His lungs hurt like never before. He closes his eyes, suddenly embarrassed about all of this happening right in front of Sonny. In Sonny’s bedroom.
"What are you? A freaking Disney princess?" Sonny asks, pale-faced. "Are you okay?"
"No birds or deer around me, so I guess not." Clay gives him a weak smirk. "I have no idea what’s going on with this cough. It never lasted this long…"
"I’ll take you to the veteran clinic," Sonny tells him, getting up.
But Clay just shakes his head. "Nah, it’s not necessary. I’ll have a cup of tea, and I’ll be all good."
His throat feels raw and his voice is raspy (unfortunately not in a sexy way, but in a ‘I’m getting sick so you better stay away from me’ way), and his head aches, too.
"You getting a fever?" Sonny doesn’t seem to listen to a word Clay just said, putting the palm of his hand on Clay’s forehead, and answers his question himself. "You feel kinda hot."
"Excuse me, Mr. Nightingale, hands off." Clay pushes Sonny’s hand away, which leads to another coughing fit.
By the time they make it to the car, Sonny’s coughing too.
"Oh fuck, did I infect you?" Clay asks in horror, watching the petals in Sonny’s cupped hand.
Sonny just shakes his head, wiping his hand on the lower part of the seat before he starts the car. "It started around the time we lost you," he admits. "Happens mostly after missions."
"What about the rest of Bravo?" Clay wants to know. Chances are high that this is some kind of delayed effect of a biological or chemical weapon that fucked up their pulmonary system or something.
"I never saw them cough like this," Sonny shrugs. "Except for you now, that is. But I didn’t tell anyone anything either, and the usual check-ups came back okay, so…"
Clay isn’t sure if he should be relieved or alarmed that he isn’t the only one with this condition. On the other hand, he hates that Sonny has it too, because what if it’s something serious?
"Let’s see what the docs say." He takes a deep breath as they reach the clinic, and Sonny pulls into one of the empty parking lots.
Luckily for them, the doctor on duty is a pneumologist. She calls them both in since they have the same symptoms and looks at their lung x-rays, which were completely unobtrusive on the last check-up. When she looks at the petals Clay and Sonny coughed into a tissue, she gets excited.
The doctor listens to their lungs and heartbeats, shooing the volunteers to get her the mobile x-ray unit. After a look at the brand new x-rays, she looks as if Christmas and her birthday fell on the same day.
It’s Harakiri. No, not really, but it sounds similar enough: Hanahaki. It’s really rare and potentially lethal.
Sonny and Clay turn pale at that. None of them is ready to go. They know that as soon as the doctor tells them that there is a possibility of it happening.
There’s more, and Clay isn’t sure how to explain that to anyone. It sounds crazy, and everyone will think they’re kidding. He’s just glad that Sonny once again decided not to respect his privacy and be by his side.
It’s basically a disease that you get when you are in love with someone who doesn’t know about your feelings or doesn’t love you back.
The feelings are so massively suppressed that your body can’t go on like this any longer, leading to flowers growing in the heart and lungs; there are no pills or treatments for it. It’s going to continue until you eventually choke to death—or the person you love loves you back.
There’s an experimental surgery where they replace the affected organs with transplants, but since their condition is severe, he doesn’t have much time left to decide what to do next. Also, if nothing changes after the transplantation, the disease comes back.
Clay didn’t expect this. He and Sonny both assumed they got a virus on one of their countless missions, inhaled hazmat or something, that could be treated with a vaccine shot, but no such luck.
"I won’t ask nor tell," the doctor starts after wanting to speak to both of them separately. "Because that’s luckily dead and buried, but I doubt it’s a coincidence you both got it at the same time. Just think about it." With that, she wishes them good luck, and they are free to leave.
"Well, that went…" Sonny speaks up in the parking lot.
"Yeah, thanks for talking me into coming here, buddy." Clay snorts sarcastically. "What the fuck could possibly go wrong?! What the fuck was I even thinking?!" He throws his arms up, turning away from Sonny.
"How is that my fault now?" Sonny is just as angry as Clay. "Excuse me for not fucking wanting to sit there and watch you fucking choke on fucking petals!" He opens the car door on the driver’s side. "Now you can at least make up with Stella so you two can continue sending out Christmas cards, wearing ‘His & Hers’ Christmas sweaters!" With that, he gets in the car and slams the door shut.
"That’s not how it’s gonna be!" Clay almost spits the words out as he drops onto the passenger seat. "I told you that! The diagnosis won’t change anything!"
"So what now?" Sonny pulls out of the parking lot. "Are we waiting for a set of hearts and lungs?" He grips the steering wheel too hard, and his knuckles turn white. "I bet she’ll change her mind once she knows. Stella isn’t someone who would want Brian to be without his dad…"
"Listen! It’s not about Stella!" Clay sounds more frustrated than angry now. "Where are we going?"
It’s not the way to either of their places. They are leaving VA Beach.
"What do you think about a road trip?" Sonny wants to know. "We always wanted to do a road trip to Metal’s Cabin, right? We can buy food on the way, and I have a sleeping bag and a blanket in the backseat." When Clay opens his mouth to say something, Sonny adds: "I really need that after the clusterfuck the doctor told us."
Clay closes his mouth again. A change of scenery may be a good thing after all and give him time and space to think about his next steps.
"That’s how the Unabomber lived." Clay can’t hold back, and Sonny snorts, leaving the door open.
The cabin is a mess, and yet very spartan, if that makes any sense.
"It feels as if he’d come around the corner at any moment to kick your ass for that." Sonny opens the windows wide to get out all the stale air.
"Right." Clay nods, taking a look around. "It would be great to see him, if only for a sec."
There’s only one bed… His mind shows him himself and Sonny on it, which provokes another coughing fit.
Sonny is instantly by his side. "You okay?" His palm on Clay’s back feels hot, as if it could burn a hole in the fabric of Clay’s shirt. "Sorry, I feel like a broken record." Sonny tries to say it jokingly, but his voice remains worried.
Clay nods again but still can’t stop coughing.
"Take him to a dusty cabin in the woods while he coughs his lungs out! What a great idea, Sonny Quinn!" Sonny berates himself as he puts an arm around Clay, and together they slowly make it out of the hut and sit down in the grass. "Lean on me," Sonny tells him, as Clay coughs out what seems to be a full bouquet: white anemones, yellow camellia, primroses, pink and red roses, magnolias, and even sunflowers.
And now, Sonny is coughing too: sunflowers, pansies, magnolias, zinnias, violets, lavenders, red and pink roses, yellow and white camellias, primroses…
After patting each other’s backs until the coughing stops, they can lie flat on the long, warm grass.
"Maybe you should call Hannah?" Eyes wide open, Clay is staring at the blue sky above him instead of at Sonny next to him. "Or is it still about Davis?"
Sonny makes a dismissive sound. "I love them both, but not in a romantic way."
"I didn’t even know that word was part of your vocabulary." Clay laughs, suddenly feeling better—nervous, but relieved.
"Hey, us Texans can be very romantic when it’s required, Battle-Boo," Sonny says in mock defense.
"What makes you cough up pretty much the same flowers?" Clay asks warily, turning his head just enough to glance at Sonny. "One of the last things the doctor told me was that she saw the same sickness not only in soldiers but also in cops and priests…"
"Fucking priests…" Sonny snorts. "So, she told both of us the same thing…" He isn’t sure if that’s a question or a statement because…
"Was that all she told you?" Clay wants to know before clearing his throat.
This time, a few red rose petals fall from his lips and brush against Sonny’s side. Luckily, they aren’t clumped with saliva but look fresh and soft, as if they had just fallen from a real flower.
"Well," Sonny looks at him quickly before looking up at the sky again. "If it sounds like a duck and walks like a duck…" He stops, taking a nervous breath. "Not in those exact words, but…"
"She told me the same thing," Clay admits. "So, is it a duck on your side or do I need a heart and lung transplant?"
"Are you saying there’s a ‘duck’ on your side?" Sonny imitates quotation marks around the word ‘duck’ with his fingers before he pulls his cap deeper into his face and glances at Clay.
Clay curses softly, turns onto his side, and gently knocks the cap off Sonny’s head. "Yeah, Big Boy, there is a duck, okay?"
"Okay." Sonny’s voice is barely a whisper. "Okay."
He props himself on one arm, bringing their faces closer together, but it’s Clay who closes the small gap between their lips and kisses him, throwing all his concerns to the wind.
Sonny gasps softly but cups Clay’s cheek, deepening the kiss. Clay clenches his fingers in Sonny’s shirt as their tongues touch.
When they break the kiss for a moment, they are both out of breath, but the need to cough is gone.