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Summary
It isn't as pretty as he imagines it would be. Not that dying is ever pretty—but he decides it would've been nice to see a petal or two. That's what he thought it was when he was first diagnosed. He's heard the term 'Hanahaki' so many times. He is a reader, after all.
Countless stories of the disease crop up in his memory, and each had a familiar, reoccurring theme. Flowers, love, beauty. But now that he's going through it himself, he thinks it's the complete opposite. It's ugly, disgusting and messy. It's not love, it's more like obsessive torment plaguing his mind. And unlike the stories, he will never have his love save him.
It's not because he wants to be brave, to push through it all and be strong. It's not because he doesn't want to worry anyone. And it's not because he wants to keep his feelings a secret. Rather, it's because he doesn't know who his love is.
or Kim Dokja develops Hanahaki. Though, it appears he's not the only one.