Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Leafy doesn’t often dwell on the past.


The majority of her friends, or at least those who she called her friends, knew this. She wasn’t the kind to get caught up in what was, but instead moved past it. Hell, for most, it seemed like she forgot it completely. 

With Firey, it was no different. After those five years of fighting, running, countless nights of staring up at the ceiling in despair, here they were. They’d finally set it aside, trading mops and jokes on the train tracks.


“I swear on Four, every time I have a genuinely good idea-” Firey said, flailing his arms like he was in an old Disney cartoon, “Coiny has to cut me off.”


She laughed, the faint glow from Firey illuminating her silky, green hair. “Firey, your ideas are mediocre at best.”


“Mediocre?” He gasped, a hand clutching at his heart. “I’ll have you know, I can be very innovative when I want to be.” The side of his mouth tugged upwards in a cheeky grin Leafy knew all too well.


“Yeah,” Leafy smirked, “Like that time you made a bread smoothie and called it genius.”


Firey scoffed. “And it was! You all just didn’t see the vision.”


“I don’t know if there was a vision to begin with, Fireball." The boy watched as she giggled, her sun-kissed, tan skin almost shining against the sunset. 

The two laughed alongside one another, leaning against their mops. For a moment, it felt like they were back in BFDI, playing tic-tac-toe and pranking the Announcer.


Firey sighed, running a hand through his ginger hair. “This is nice, y’know.” He sat down on the edge of the tracks, ignoring how his hands started to shake. “No more dumb arguments. No more pretending.”

Her gaze softened, moving to sit down next to him. “Yeah, it is.” She smiled, fingers interlocking with his. “Everything’s back to normal again.”


“Normal’s overrated,” he snickered, laying back against the tracks. The stars shone above them, dots of blue and white illuminating the sky. “But this? This is pretty good.”


They sat like that for a while, listening to the crickets chirping near the bushes, the smell of frying food wafting through the open windows of the Have Cots house, but it didn’t matter. Nothing outside their little bubble mattered, at least not now.


“Hey, Fireball?”


“Hm?”


Leafy paused for a moment, fiddling with her hands. “We’ll still be best friends, right?”


He sat up, brow arched in confusion. “What?”


She paused, feeling a subtle ache in her chest. “You know, we’ll still be best friends once the next challenge starts?”


Firey simply stared at her for a moment or two, before bursting into laughter, wheezing. “Leafs, what? Of course we will,” he chuckled, wiping his eyes. “You’re stuck with me forever now. That’s kinda the deal.”


“Really?”


“Yeah!” He grinned, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “That’s what best friends do, right?”


Best friends.


Best. Friends.

Leafy didn’t know where it came from, or why. She felt it before she knew what it was; a wet, silky lodge in the back of her neck, making her breath hitch and her hands twitch. Just the dull squeeze of her heart. Like someone had pressed a thumb to her throat and refused to let go. Leafy swallowed hard, the sticky feeling forcing its way back.

Firey’s gaze stuck on the tracks below him, wiping the beads of sweat off his brow. “Well, I think we’ve done a pretty good job.”


Leafy nodded, nails digging into the white of her palm. “Yep, we have.”


The ache pulsed again. She shifted, tilting her head to the side in an attempt to free it loose. Nothing. 

It’s fine, she thought. I’m probably just tired.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly, horribly wrong.

She stood up abruptly, smiling. “We should probably get to bed.”


Firey whined, taking the arm Leafy held out to help himself up. “Do we have to?”


Firey met Leafy’s confused stare, flush blooming across his face.


“Y-y’know, we could stay here for a while. Watch the stars or something.”


The corners of her eyes crinkled, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Fireball, it’s late.”


“Goody two-shoes,” he murmured, huffing. “You need to stop being so responsible.”


“You need to try it sometime.” She smiled, ignoring the way her palms grew sweaty.

“Yeah, whatever.” He grinned, the sight making her heart skip a beat. “Text me when you get back, alright?”


“I will.”


“See ya, Leafs.”


“Bye, Fireball.”


She turned before he could trick her into staying with a pout and wide eyes, hand to her heart.


Why did she feel like this? They had finally set things right. Finally pieced together their friendship. So why did she feel this way?


She hid behind a rock, starting to hack. Leafy leaned against it, covering her mouth with her hands to stop the sound.


After a minute or so, she took a slow, controlled breath, taking in the cold night air, and pulled back her hands. 

What?

A singular, bright pink petal, speckled with pollen.


Her stomach dropped. “What the hell?,” she whispered, the sound barely making it out.

Her hands trembled violently now, fingers curling in on the pad, trying to crush it out of existence. 

Her feet moved instinctively, one after another, until she was sprinting back to the house. By the time she reached the door, she was shaking, fist clenched to her heart. Leafy shoved the door harder than she wanted to, the handle crashing against the wall. The noise cut through the room, making the Have Cot’s head turn with disgust.  The door burst open, and the Have Cots stared her down, some glaring, others with their heads down, almost ignoring her presence entirely.


Leafy walked upstairs to her room, trying to forget what she just saw. 

She pushed her door closed, turning the lock with a click. Her back pressed against it, letting herself sink to the floor.

She had read about this somewhere, sometime during her escape to Yoyleland at one of the old libraries. 

And maybe, Leafy still had this book.

She turned to her shelf in a blur, picking up spines and tossing them to the side, until she found a leatherback book with the name Rare diseases.

She flipped the pages so fast she could’ve sworn she got a few cuts somewhere in between, but with the rush of adrenaline and fear pumping through her veins, that was the least of her concerns. Her eyes landed on the letter, heart doing flips in her chest.

Hanahaki. 

‘A physical manifestation of unrequited or one-sided love, where the victim facilitates the growth of flowers in the lungs, often causing sharp pains, constant coughing, and if not reciprocated or surgically removed, can result in fatality.’

Leafy rushed to her bookshelf, pulling out a slot of books to find a black leather cover behind them, sitting alone. Floriography, it read, surrounded by embroidered images of carnations, roses, and daisies. 

She set it on her study table, flipping through hundreds of pages, until her eyes landed on that same, bright pink petal.


Leafy smoothed out the pages, ignoring how her hands shook.


‘Japanese Primrose: Known for its symbolic meaning of devotion. Its pinkish-purple colour often represents the nostalgia of a first love and the hopes of childhood, due to their blooming patterns early in Spring’

She slammed it shut before her eyes could start to tear up, the petal clinging stubbornly to her sweaty hands. Leafy ripped it off, opening the book once more to force it between the two pages documenting the Japanese primrose, before closing it once more. Her breath came out hard and trembling, hands clutching the sides of her desk. 

Think, Leafy. Think.

Her mind raced off into every different direction. Should she call a doctor? No, removing the emotions would be a new problem entirely, and as disgusting as this was, she couldn’t have that happen. Asking Four? What are you thinking? Leafy told herself. Four was an algebralien, a completely different species. What would he know about this? 

A ring came from her phone, making her eyes slowly land on an unread message from-

-Firey.

No. She couldn’t let him see this.


Things had just gotten better. She had just gotten Firey back, and now this disease was here in its full glory to mock Leafy of what she had become.


Firey couldn’t know. Not when things were finally getting better. He’d be horrified- no, disgusted, to see her puking up flowers, and then he’d leave. Then, she’d be alone all over again.


No.


She straightened slowly, wiping the corners of her mouth.


No one had to know. The feelings would go away eventually, and when they did, everything would go back to how it was. Everything would be okay-

Ding!


Leafy froze for a split second, eyes drifting to the glowing screen of her phone. She let out a sigh. It was just Firey. Her hands reached for her phone, typing back a quick response to him. 

She’d be fine. She had to be. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The Have Cot’s house was surprisingly quiet the next morning.


Leafy stumbled downstairs, being met with the crew already at the table, eating.


“Oh, Leafster,” Gelatin managed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You want breakfast?”


Leafy’s jaw clenched, ignoring how the others stared her down. She put it off with a quick nod. “Yeah, if that’s alright.”


Gelatin smiled, putting another two slices of toast into the machine, and pulling the lever down. This was routine for them. Breakfast was done in rotations between each of the members. Lollipop made eggs and bacon. Gelatin made toast. Teadrop would make a full Irish breakfast, and proceed to take an Irish exit. And Leafy made waffles. 

“Has anyone seen Bubble?”


“What did you say, Gelatin?”


“Uhh,” Gelatin rubbed the back of his neck. “Nevermind.”

Lollipop kept her eyes locked on the book she seemed to be reading, flicking to Leafy every now and then with squinted eyes. Teardrop stared at her comic she had made last challenge. The sound of Leafy’s toast popping out was the loudest thing in the house.


She walked over, taking out the two slices of bread and setting it down on a plate. The tips of her fingers grazed the knife rested against the container of butter, reaching for it.


“So,” he cleared his throat, trying to put something between the team instead of all the tension. “What happened with you and Firey last challenge? Y’know, outside of the courthouse?”


She paused, knife in her palm, the first swipe of butter melting into a golden brown as the silence stretched. “We uh-” Leafy coughed, clenching a throwaway petal in her palm. Not again. “We just had a talk.”


Gelatin arched a brow. “I mean, yeah.” he said. “We figured, after you guys spent like, fifteen minutes outside.”
 

The corners of Leafy’s lips twitched upwards, almost instinctively. “It was nothing, really. We just had to get on the same page with each other.”


Gelatin nodded slowly, clearly unconvinced.


“Well,” he said eventually, cutting the ice. “As long as no one’s throwing punches anymore.”


Leafy let out a huff that barely passed for a laugh. She focused on spreading the butter evenly, keeping her hands still and her gaze narrowed with focus. 

The toast sat untouched on the plate.


Eat, she told herself, but her stomach twisted at the thought, nausea curling up in her throat. The way the crusts flaked off whenever it moved, the way the smell hit her wrong, made her sick.

She forced a smile, pushing the plate back. “You know what? I’m actually not that hungry.” Leafy pushed the plate back, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. She felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket, taking it out. Firey.


Her heart fluttered as she pressed it against her ear, clearing her throat in an attempt to get rid of the petals.


“Hey, Leafs!” he beamed over the phone, elongating his words.


Leafy chuckled softly. “Hi, Fireball. How are you?”


“A bit tired, but other than that, good,” he said. “How are you?”

“I’m good.” Leafy looked up for a moment, seeing her teammates staring at her with confusion. She coughed, clutching the side of her sleeve before continuing. “Are you ready for today’s challenge?”


“I think so. I just really hope you don’t get out.”


Leafy felt her heart ache once more. God, Firey, she thought. Why do you have to do this to me? “Yeah, me too,” she said quietly. “But even if I do, I’ll go out knowing something went right.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, and for a terrifying second, she thought she had said too much.


Then, 

“Well, that won’t happen,” he said. “You’re Leafy. If they don’t love you, that’s their problem.”


She laughed, short and breathless. Despite letting out a sigh of relief, her chest grew ever more tighter. “We’ll see.”

After a few minutes, Leafy slipped the phone back in her pocket. “I’m gonna go outside and get some fresh air,” she said to no one in particular, letting herself out.
 

“Okay Leafster-” Gelatin paused, cut off by the front door clicking shut. He glanced back at Lollipop, who had met his gaze with curiosity. “Have you noticed something weird about Leafy this week?”


“Maybe she’s just stressed,” Lollipop replied, flipping a page of her book. “I say she’s simply nervous about getting eliminated this challenge.”


Gelatin nodded slowly, eyes fixed on the door that she had once been at. “I don’t know. Something seems.. off.”

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The pillary ruins buzzed with excitement, anticipation, and worry. For whatever reason, everyone was strangely busy.


Woody, Blocky, and Gelatin were being introduced to Flower’s new clothing line. Whether or not they wanted to was up for debate, but no one dared to question it.


Lollipop and Bubble were talking amongst themselves. Probably something to do with her recovery, Leafy thought, guessing by the way Lollipop kept fidgeting with the belt loops of her jeans and looking to the sides.


And Firey was standing alone.

Leafy couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He hovered near one of the cracked pillars, fingers drumming on his white and orange jacket. Firey looked anywhere but Four and X, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in silence. The sight tugged at her heartstrings, Leafy’s feet moving before she could think about it.

“Hey, Leafy!”


She paused, letting out a slow sigh, before turning to see Gelatin with-

Actually, she couldn’t quite figure out what he had on himself.

He beamed, running his fingers over the fabric. “Check out my new sweater!”


Leafy grimaced at the sight, pulling back slightly. Bright, clashing shades of green and yellow, a stitching technique that made the entire thing look like a failed test run, and an abstract, graphic print that had lost a fight with a glue gun.


She arched her brow. “But, I thought you said it gave you nightmares, even while you were awake!”

Gelatin stared at her with a wide smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, pointing at the sky. “Look what happened to Blocky.”


…


She heard a distant yell from above her, wincing. Then came Flower’s voice from somewhere behind Gelatin.

“Leafy, get over here! Fashion waits for no one!”


Leafy sighed, casting a last glance to Firey. He’d be okay.


“Fine,” she resigned, walking over to Flower. “Just, quickly, please.”


Flower took out her measuring tape, wrapping it around Leafy’s waist, measuring her shoulders, and so on, until a sweater was shoved into her arms moments later. Green, thankfully, with diamond printing on the front, and too much glitter for her liking. On top of that, it was oddly itchy, like one of those ugly Christmas sweaters families wore for uncomfortable photoshoots with weird poses and plastered smiles. 

She managed a nervous smile. “It’s.. great, Flower!” Leafy tugged the sleeves down, listening to Flower beam about her brand and business. She glanced back at Firey for a moment, then at Flower once more, before slipping away to her..


To Firey. 

He glanced up at the sound of her footsteps, eyes lighting up. “Hey, Leafs.” Her chest tightened again, sharp and immediate, and she hated how easily he could do that without even trying.


“Hi, Firey!” She beamed, keeping her mind off the pain. “Check out my cool new sweater!”


Firey paused for a moment, before stifling a laugh. “You look crazy.”


“Hey,” Leafy huffed, hands on her hips. “This is high fashion, thank you very much,” she said, quoting what Flower had said earlier in her ramble.

“If by high fashion,” he smirked, “you mean something Gelatin dug out of the lost-and-found, then sure.”


Leafy rolled her eyes anyway, the kind that came easily around him. “You’re just jealous because you can’t pull it off.”


Firey perked up, a devilish grin on his lips. “I can pull off anything, Leafs. I’m just not bothered to.”


She laughed, pressing a sleeve to her mouth as a cough crawled up her throat. Leafy turned away, catching a glimpse of Firey’s smile dropping almost immediately.


“Woah, you okay?”


“Y-yeah,” Leafy said, her hand resting above her collar, nails flicking at the neckband. “Y’know, seasonal allergies.”

…

“Your name is Leafy. How the hell do you have seasonal allergies?”

Leafy forced a laugh, the sound thin and wrong. “Rude.”

He saw the crease form between her brows, deciding now was a good time to shut up. “Sorry, sorry, too soon?” She saw his palms lift in surrender, brows knit together and a sheepish smile he rarely wore.


“It’s fine,” she said, waving it off, and letting the petal fall further into the sweater’s sleeve. “Really.”


Firey hesitated, gaze roaming over her sweater for a moment before saying, “You sure?”


“Yep.”


She smiled, and it looked real enough for him to drop it.


“Okay,” he shrugged, running a hand through his flames. “Just let me know if you need me to rob a chemist or something.”


Leafy rolled her eyes, finger pressing against her collarbone. “How thoughtful.” 

Firey chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, and she couldn’t pull away. Not from the small curve on the corners of his lips. Not from the way his shoulders shook whenever he laughed. Not from the way his hair, with its brown tip and sunset orange ends bounced as he spoke. Not from the way those brown eyes met hers.

It wasn’t pain that she felt. Or maybe it was. The pain of knowing that it would be insane for him to love her as much as she did for him. Her lungs felt that pressure she knew all too well, the kind that made her entire body feel on the verge of bursting. Her breaths grew more and more shallow as she looked at him.

Focus, she thought to herself, a small, throbbing pain near her neck, where her finger had been pressing against her collarbone for the past few minutes. 

Leafy’s heart pounded traitorously against her ribcage, making a soft heat settle across her face. She cleared her throat, pulling the metallic, salty sting down.

“Uh, Leafy?” He said. “Are you-”


Firey was interrupted by none other than their beloved, yellow cohost.


“Hey, Have Cots!” X chimed, his curly, butter-coloured hair. “It’s time for Cake at Stake!”

The relief washed so fast through Leafy that it almost made her dizzy. Her hand drifted down, scrunching the fabric in her palm.

 
Leafy heard Firey sigh behind her, turning to see his gaze locked on X with mild irritation, and maybe disappointment.


“Well,” she sighed, “time to get eliminated-”


“Hey.”


His hand reached for hers. And for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.


Firey paused midway, his arm slowly retreating back to his side. “You’ll be fine. You always are.”

Her heart fluttered. Not in the way butterflies did.


“Thanks, Fireball.”


“See you out there, Leafs.”


Leafy could barely hear her own thoughts as she walked up to X with her teammates. They said something about Flower, something about fashion. Same old.


What wasn’t familiar was the way her chest tightened after her name left X’s mouth.


“Leafy is the first one safe-”


Her breath hitched.


“-With a record 28,401 votes!”


She stared for what felt like forever.


The muscle memory kicked in, a bright, wide smile on her face. Her eyes found him immediately, and to her surprise, he was already looking at her. 

Firey was practically glowing, mouthing the words “told you!” through cupped hands. She giggled.


The rest of the competition went in a blur, other than the moment she had got to see Firey again.


It wasn’t expected. Not at all, but after Lollipop had seen the wreckage, Firey thought that maybe now was a good time to step in.


He strolled up to them, making brief eye contact with Leafy, before centering his attention to the rest of them. “Oh, hey guys! Sorry for the mess…”

“What happened here?” Lollipop asked. “And what do you mean, sorry?”


His fingers drummed against his black shorts, gaze drifting to Leafy, who was giving him a thumbs-up and a grin. Firey’s shoulders drooped slightly, a soft smile on his face. “Last week, Four asked me to clean the railway…”


Lollipop’s confusion was close to overwhelming, to which Firey blurted out, “But when I got too close, the train burst into flames.”

“It’s okay, Firey!” Leafy almost immediately stepped in, making space between him and Lollipop. She flashed him a grin. “Mistakes happen.”

Firey let out a sigh he didn’t realise he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit.

Her chest fell in on itself as she spoke, making her fiddle with her sleeve once more. Not enough to stop her or to show, but enough for her to be reminded of the blooming punishment beneath her ribs, trying to claw its way out.

Leafy kept smiling anyway.


After a few moments of discussion, Leafy led her team onto the train, glancing at Firey for a brief moment.


No.


She shouldn’t.


She couldn’t anyway.


But-


“Firey,” she smiled,“wanna come with?”

His eyes stayed on her for a moment longer than necessary, the look behind his gaze unreadable. Not annoying. Not awkwardness. Just quiet. Like he is fighting with himself to pick a side. Leafy felt that familiar tug at her chest, taking a quiet breath to force it down.


Please, she thought, against her own good judgement. Just for the ride. 

Firey exhaled, shoulders falling as he spoke a tone quieter than before. “Nah, I gotta stay loyal to my team.”


The words shouldn’t have hurt. She expected them anyway.


But they did, making Leafy fiddle with the edge of her sleeve to stop herself from asking him again.


Of course, Firey noticed, putting on a bright smile and walking backwards. “But next time, for sure.” He winked, pointing his signature finger guns at her as he moved towards his team. 

Leafy’s heart felt like it belonged to another person, someone who must have absolutely hated her, based on how she could barely breath through the strain in her chest.


She waited until the boy turned away, coughing into her sleeve once more. 

It was fine. He didn’t mean anything by that.


Leafy coughed into her sleeve, feeling a petal crawl down her arm.

By the time Firey glanced back over his shoulder, the train had already taken off. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next challenge was announced with much less fanfare.


“Today’s challenge is to throw me a party!”


Groans rippled through the seven of them. Four ignored it, of course, continuing to go on about the challenge with bright eyes.


“You have one hour to put together the best parties on Earth,” Four said, “and the creators of the two best parties will win immunity!”


Leafy barely managed to react, her eyes already fixed the blur of orange in front of her


Firey stood a few feet away, entrenched in a conversation with Lollipop. Her hands were moving sharp and quickly, tone clipped in a way that usually meant she was annoyed at something Four had said. Which in this scenario, made sense. He nodded along, seemingly listening, though with Firey it was hard to tell. 

Leafy hesitated.


Then she stepped forward.


“Hey, Firey!”


Lollipop glanced over her shoulder, gaze narrowed. “Not now, Leafy,” she said. “We’re talking.”


Leafy blinked, caught off guard. “I just-”


“Leafy.”


Firey didn’t even look. He almost seemed frozen. Worried.


Like in BFDIA.


Her fingers twitched with indecisiveness, before resting by her sides once more. “Alright then.”

Lollipop’s harsh cadence and Firey’s low murmurs blended into one, the sound distorting amongst itself as Leafy ducked behind a pillar. They felt far away, almost unreachable. Her vision fogged as she doubled over in pain, the thoughts in her head buzzing and blurring together like a hive swarming over a single flower. She gagged, clasping her sleeve over her mouth to try and block out the sound. It didn’t work, of course. It’s okay, she told herself, despite the way a sharp stab of pain erupted through her abdomen. You’re okay. You’ve done this before.


But for whatever reason, she had been cursed with something even worse than last time.

Her hands shook first. Then her shoulders, then her body, trembling violently. The sleeves of her shirt balled up, being let go as Leafy grasped onto a protruding rock coming out of the pillar. Her throat burned with something hot and tangy, almost like bile. 

Leafy turned back, fists clenched and eyes stinging with something she had gotten too familiar with. The words dissolved on her tongue and a cough reached her throat. It shouldn't have hurt so bad. Leafy was used to this. So why did it still hurt so much?

She fisted the fabric of her sleeves over her knuckles, head tucked under her knees.


And then there was nothing.


The sound around her slowly put itself back into place.

 
Another cough shuddered through her, falling into the centre of Leafy’s palm. She squeezed her eyes shut, stuffing the pink petal into her pocket.


Right now, she had to focus on the challenge. That would give her something else to think of. Other than the petals. Other than Firey.


She stumbled away from the pillar, sleeves fisted over her knuckles.


You’re fine. You’re fine. You’re- 

“Hey, Leafy- woah, are you okay?”

Leafy froze, shudders running down her back. “U-um..” She turned around nervously, a glint of yellow and pink catching her eye.


Oh thank god, she thought. It’s just Flower.


As respectful as she wanted to be, Flower could be a little bit… dull, on the sides.


“I’m fine, totally,” Leafy forced a grin. “It’s just a cold.”


Flower hummed in acknowledgement, hands on her hips. “Well, if you wanna hang out with me, I’m planning to go to my “For Petal’s Sake” shop to get some party supplies.”


Leafy lifted a finger in protest, before her mind started to dwell on the thought. Maybe she could take her mind off everything.


Maybe she could take her mind off him. 

“Uhh, sure, Flower! Let’s do it!”


Flower beamed. “Great! We just need some streamers, lights, maybe some balloons-”


Leafy nodded as she spoke, trying to let Flower’s voice drown out her thoughts.

The girl had already turned away, blond and pink curly hair cascading down her back.


They didn’t make it three steps before Leafy heard footsteps behind her.


“Ooh, where are you guys off to?” His voice was light, casual, almost ignorant to what he had just done. To what he had done for years on end.


Flower perked up immediately. “Shopping,” she said. “From my shop, obviously.”

He glanced over at Leafy, hands stuffed in his pockets. “Huh. Didn’t know you were into retail therapy, Leafs.”


She stared at him for a second too long. And in that second, something inside her snapped.


“Seriously, Firey?”


His smile faltered for a second, eyes wide. “What?”


“Honestly, Firey,” she took a shaky breath, nails digging into her sleeves, “like, why didn’t you stand up for me back there?”


Flower glanced between the two, clearing her throat awkwardly, and regretting every decision building up to this.

“I know I apologised for all that happened,” Leafy said, the words spilling out faster than she meant them to, “but you never apologised to me for ignoring me for years.”


Firey stood, frozen in his spot.


“And you’re still contributing to that, y’know.”

Firey’s mouth opened for a heartbreaking moment, but nothing came out.


That hurt more than anything he could have said.


“Leafy,” he muttered, voice surprisingly quiet. “I didn’t even think about it.” 

“I know.”


Leafy expected yelling, arguing, Firey trying to defend himself when they both knew he was in the wrong.


Instead, the honesty in his voice felt so much worse than if he had argued.


She grumbled a quiet, “I’ll talk to you later,” turning on her heel and not looking back.


Leafy’s steps quickened, as she caught up with Flower, who kept looking back at her with confusion. She knew this feeling. The feeling of being left out, left behind. Especially by Firey. She thought she’d gotten used to it. That’s what she’d told herself every day during BFDIA, every time she had to rough down a yoyleberry despite its metallic and stingy taste.

So why did it still hurt?

Flower slowed, her head tilted quizzically. “You okay, Leafy?”

“Yes.”


Flower’s brows narrowed at the quick response.


Shoot.


Leafy plastered on a smile. “I’m fine, really.” Before she could back herself up with any evidence, another cough tickled out her throat, her elbow flying to her mouth as she hacked. 

Flower stopped in her tracks, wide-eyed. “Leafy. What was that?”


She straightened immediately, like a deer in the headlights. “I’m just a bit cold. Yknow. Tryna warm myself up.”


Flower stared at her. “But.. the sun’s outside.”


“Heh, yeah,” she forced an awkward laugh, hands raising in a shrug. “Crazy, right?”


Flower arched a brow. “Then why are your eyes red?”


“I was…” she paused. C’mon, Leafy… “staring at it. Y’know. The sun.”


…


Leafy internally slapped her forehead. Out of everything she could’ve said, that came out of her mouth.


“Uhh.. Okay…” Flower hummed, before her eyes lit up, and she rifled through her carry-on. “Here!” She pulled out one of her sweaters from the last competition. Leafy grimaced. “You can use one of my sweaters if you want! They’re pretty good, and they repel vomit!”


Leafy blinked. “Is that something you include in… all of your stuff?”


“Yes.”

She thrusted it into Leafy’s hands. “Trust me, it’s practical.”


The girl hesitated for a moment, before letting out a long exhale and shrugging it on. It felt heavy and grounding on her shoulders, warmer than she had expected. Sure, it wasn’t the most comfortable, but it would hide the flower petals better than her long-sleeved tee. And, if worse came to worse, it was a dark enough fabric to hide the blood. God forbid it ever came to that.

“Thanks, Flower.”


Flower beamed, giving her a, “No problem!”, before continuing to stroll down the plains, already launching into ideas about balloons and glitter. 

Leafy followed behind her, shortly glancing back at Firey for a moment. He was talking to Gelatin, hands wrapped around his torso, which was unusual for someone as expressive as him.


The petals stayed warm in her pocket as she walked away. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Her time with Flower was… interesting, to say the least.


If you ignored the treacherous journey of sinking into the ‘quicksand of death’, the 1000 feet drop of doom, and the fifty mile tightrope, it wasn’t that bad.


Oh, and including getting chased by Flower’s… odd employee.

The two had thrown the packages onto Flower’s wall. Leafy would’ve gone to work on her own blank slate, but by the time they had got back, Four was already ready to check all of their creations. Plus, the least she could do was help out a friend.


Once the two opened their eyes, Flower’s set was drenched in pink and glitter. It was straight out of her fantasies; blue, sparkly balloons, bunting around the top and bottom, which made it seem like a nursery of some sorts, and the words Four’s Party in the center.


“Woah!” Leafy blinked at the sight in front of her. “You weren’t lying, Flower. That looks great!” She caught a glimpse of Flower’s wide smile.


But that joy ended as soon Four spoke.


“Alright, everyone,” he grinned, “time to see the parties you’ve all made for me!”

Gelatin was already beaming at Four, introducing his basket-themed party with pride.


The green haired girl saw Teadrop and Lollipop trading the looks of confusion and disbelief on their faces. Despite Gelatin’s enthusiasm, his face dropped as soon as Four announced his score; 0/10.

Leafy fingers curled into her palm, knowing that she’d end up with the exact same score, and be up for elimination once again. She sighed, her nails scratching at the fabric of her sweater. 

And for whatever reason, her heart started to beat faster when Four turned to him. 

He seemed almost nervous, thumbs hanging from his belt loops and tapping his foot incessantly on the ground. The boy lifted his head, and for a split second, their gazes met.


Firey smiled.


Then he spoke.


“For my party, I decided to make a ferris wheel, with a fun special part!”


Her breath hitched, like her lungs had forgotten their own function. 

Most contestants had heard about Firey’s interest in building and construction, though up until now, he rarely had any chances to showcase it during the challenges. She took a good look at the metal beam warped into a circle, and four, distinguished carriages painted a champagne hue on the bottom. This one seems sturdier than the last one; bolts screwed into place, the seats evenly spaced, a frame made with caution.


“It has a waterfall,” Firey glanced sideways, eyes searching for hers instinctively, “but, once a half rotation has gone around, it triggers the ferris wheel to drop water instead!


Leafy’s gaze stayed locked with his as he explained, foot still tapping on the ground. “And then it switches back-and-forth every time half a rotation has gone around.”


In that single moment, the only thing that existed was the two of them. “That way,” he smiled at her, “Leafy and I can ride on the ferris wheel together!” He walked over to her, letting out a small breath, softer this time, and hands on his hips with a look that screamed with pride. “I hope you like it, Leafy!”

A warmth climbed up her neck, reaching her face in one quick rush as something tight coiled inside her chest. She pressed her lips together in one tight line, forcing down a swell of emotions before it could turn itself into something else. Into something floral.

The world held its breath with her, until-


“Wow Firey,” she choked out, a small, hesitant smile reaching her lips. “What a wonderful gift!”

He scratched the back of his neck,his voice dropping to something quiet. Something honest that he rarely let himself be. “I’m sorry I pushed you away for so long.” His gaze dropped to the ground, downcast. “Just because I was mad didn’t give me permission to be mean and cold to you.”


Leafy felt it tighten in her chest once more. But that didn’t stop her from stepping forward before she could overthink it, arms crossed over her chest. “Thank you, Fireball,” she gave him a warm smile. “That means more than you know.”


Her gaze flickered up to the ferris wheel towering over the two of them. “And this ferris wheel?” she added, a slight chuckle slipping out. “It really means a lot to me.”

…


Her mind flicked to something.


You shouldn’t.


Don’t do it.


But..


“Wanna go for a ride?”


For a long second, Firey just looked at her.


Then that grin broke across his face. Wide, bright, unmistakably him. “Sure-”


“Wait!”


The two turned to see Four staring at Firey in incredulity, almost on the verge of disappointment. “But, that had nothing to do with me!”


“I know.”


Leafy froze at his response, at his casual shrug as he said it. “I didn’t really focus on winning immunity this challenge.”


And for now, that was all she needed to hear. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Yoyleland had never felt so cold. 

Most days, it was surprisingly humid, the sun radiating and reflecting off of her silver exterior. But tonight, it was cold.

She hadn’t been here in years. And she had refused to ever come here again.

Leafy glanced down at her hands, noticing the metallic tint to them. 

Oh, she thought. This is just a dream. 

An odd one, for sure.

Her feet moved in front of the other, feeling the soft patches of grass below. Leafy didn’t have lucid dreams. The only exceptions were after she had started coughing up the flowers in BFDIA. 

For some reason, her body couldn't be the only  thing that betrayed her.

Leafy scoffed to no one in particular, kicking the old stones that hit her boot. She trudged across the purple plains, hands stuffed in the pockets of her torn up jeans that now sat just above her kneecaps. 

Why was she here? Why, out of all places, was this the one she had to see tonight? As if everything wasn’t already going downhill. 

The sounds of twigs crunched under footsteps. But they weren’t hers. 

Leafy’s head shot up, hand instinctively grasping for the strap near her waist. Nothing. No knife, no yoyleberry. Nothing. She froze, head slowly lifting.

No.

It was her. Still gray, still tired, but skipping around the plains with a smile that made it see like nothing was wrong. And worst of all, a yellow tomato clasped within her hand.

“Don’t,” she pleaded under her own breath, the sound barely making it out. She tried to move forward. To grab her by the shoulder and beg her to let him go, to hug her and say she’d be fine, to tell her to not get her hopes up and leave before things got worse.

Her feet wouldn’t budge. 

A rustling sound caught her attention, Leafy’s eyes drifting the vines growing around her boots. Like the world itself had decided her punishment was to stand there and watch this scene replay in her mind once more. For some dumb reason, that didn’t matter to her right now, gaze reluctantly drifting back to younger her. She felt trapped, almost paralysed in a mix of fear and shame. 

She heard five beeps, the distinct sound of the recovery centers, and squeezed her eyes shut.


But she peeked anyway, seeing a flicker of green, and a flicker of-

Orange. 

“Huh? Wha- Who?”


Firey. Of course it was him.

He fell on a patch of purple grass underneath him, eyes glossy and dazed in confusion as he looked around-


“Me!”


She had never noticed how fast Firey’s face had dropped into one hiding terror, maybe shame. His raised eyebrow immediately straightened against the other, shoulders suddenly too stiff.


They stared at each other for a long, awkward moment.


The younger her smiled, eyes bright and the corners of her ears turned upwards. “Hi, Firey!” The boy just stared for a few moments. It was ironic, how now she felt as stiff and ashamed as he had. “It’s me, Leafy!”


She winced at the sound of her voice cracking all those years ago, too bright for its own good. Like if she seemed happy enough, maybe everything would click back into place. 

Firey squinted. Not at her, but just slightly above. Now, Leafy could tell he was looking at the glowing silhouette of Coiny and Pin far above them. Like he was weighing his options of ending up like them or staying as they were. 

“Oh.” It came out slowly, in a silence that tried to tell her he didn’t want to talk. The younger her didn’t get the hint, like always. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the grass beneath her feet. “Thanks for recovering me-”


“No problem! I-”



“Stranger.”

The tightness in her chest grew tenfold.


“What?”


The word didn’t even feel mean. And maybe that was the worst part. It felt casual, careless. Like it didn’t matter.


Like she didn’t matter.


Leafy felt the vines snake further up her body, and her eyes started to ache. Her own mind started to short-circut. Her hands start to shake. The corners of her lips twitching.

“Firey-” she stuttered, nails digging into the fabric of her pants, “we’re-”

But he was already turning away. And it was at that moment that Leafy realised he had always been this way; she just didn’t want to see it.

“Anyway,” he said, dusting himself off from her presence. “I should really be getting back to my friends.”

Friends.


Friends.


“Wait- Firey,” she pleaded, her hand reaching out despite herself. “Please-”


And then he was gone.


Again.


Leafy stared in horror, trembling. Her knees locked on themselves, hunching over herself. “Stop,” she begged, knowing damn well he didn’t hear anything as he disappeared. Back to his life. Back to his routine.


Back to his friends.


Leafy felt her throat burning and eyes burning with a putrid acid.


Silence swallowed the plains. No wind. No birds. Nothing.

Her arm slowly fell back against her side.


“Oh,” Her eyes grew glossy. That smile stayed on her face, like it didn’t know how to leave.

She took a deep breath to try and try and steady her emotions, but to no avail. The hot, salty tears started to roll down her pale cheeks.


Leafy stared at her younger self, the irony striking her head and heart in a way she couldn’t describe. Those same tears started to blue her vision.


She remembered this feeling all too well. The hollow, embarrassed ache that rang through her every time Firey had decided to shove her aside. Like she’d shown up to a party she wasn’t invited to.

Young Leafy scrubbed at her eyes with fervor, angry at herself. She never liked crying. It felt wrong. It felt weird. It felt like something she wasn’t allowed to do.

“I’m fine!” she forced a weak smile, though the hitch in her breath betrayed her. “He’s just confused. It’s fine-”


At that moment, Leafy had never felt so much pain. She watched her younger self double over, shoulders shaking and fingers twitching against the grass as she hacked. Red petals and blood littered the grass below. 

Leafy couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.


She couldn’t breathe.


In an instant, Leafy gasped, clutching at her chest in pain. The fabric of her sweater balled into her fist, growing damp with her sweat. Her breaths started to stutter. She felt the tear of muscle in her throat, like thorns to a rose. Her other hand clutched her stomach, collapsing to her knees as she wheezed.

Leafy knew it was dumb. That it was stupid to cry over petals, but that didn’t stop the pools of water in the corners of her eyes from spilling. She could smell it before her eyes landed onto her hands; the tinge of copper that had creeped down her throat before, now clinging to the creases of her palms like oil that refused to be rinsed off. Leafy glanced up despite her best efforts, seeing her younger self curled into a ball, choking on her consequence of loving too much. Her arm reached out, before it landed on the grass, another cough jolting through her body. She hacked, taking in desperate, ugly gasps for air as pink petals fell to the ground.


The Leafy from before choked on pink, and the Leafy now choked on white, but they both spat red.

She saw the faint glow of orange before the world faded to black.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Leafy woke up feeling like she was drowning, her eyes snapping open before she could understand what had just happened in her heart. Her sheets and pillow were soaked with sweat, the top half of her shirt drenched with sweat.


The ceiling was dark. Everything was dark, except for a slit of the room that lit up from the moonlit beams streaming through her drapes.


The room was cold.


But her chest was on fire.

Leafy bolted upright, gasping desperately for air that she couldn’t seem to get. Air rushed in fast and cold. It hurts. Like her lungs forgot how to work and were scrambling to remember.

She coughed, the sound dry and scarce. But nothing came out. Her throat burns with a phantom feeling, softness scraping at her tongue.


It takes ten seconds for her to rush to the bathroom near the end of her bed. Leafy threw the blanket off, forcing herself out of bed. The only noise was her reverent footsteps against the floor, but her ears rang with every swallow. 

The hallway stretched longer than it should have, shadows crawling along the walls as they watched her pass.


She doesn’t turn the lights on. She doesn’t want to fully wake up. Because if this isn’t a dream, she doesn’t want to know.

With a shaky hand, Leafy pushes the door, hearing a click as the lock twists under her fingers.


She stumbles over to the sink, gripping the porcelain rim to try and steady her hands. Be quiet, she told herself, vision blurred and cheeks burning. They can’t hear you. 

Leafy turned on the tap, brushing feeling the spray of cold water on her fingers.


For a moment, everything's okay. 

Then she coughed. Harsh and ragged. Her grip tightened on the sink’s rim, shoulders jerking with every breath she took.

“No, no, no-”


Leafy clutched at her throat, a mangled gasp escaping her lips as she tried to breathe. Her chest spasmed. The back of her mouth grew tighter, making her gag as she doubled over the sink. She knew this feeling. She knew this feeling far too well.

“Please-” she chokes out, praying to any god up there to stop this. Like bargaining will change anything.

It doesn’t.

The cough comes back, blood splattering across the sink and rolling down the faucet.


Tears blurred her vision, everything blurring into each other in a messy, claustrophobic nightmare. Leafy squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ignore the shoot of pain that tore at her stomach. She couldn’t tell what was going on around her, until she felt the sweet release of the last few petals falling from her mouth.



Her body grew limp, slouching over the sink. Leafy had never felt so vulnerable; knees shaking, lips quivering, and eyes sealed shut.

Her head slowly cleared, one distinct thought amongst the debris; Don’t look.


But she did.


Leafy slowly glanced down, her hands quaking.

A glint of red caught her eye.


An Anemone.


Though, this time, it was dull. Like an old book with coffee stains someone had tried to blow-dry. Its white tip was grey, the entire petal wet with her saliva.

It wasn’t possible.


Her mind rummaged through every last encounter with him in BFDIA, through every long night she had spent awake, gagging and coughing into her pillow.


It had gone away.


The flowers had left. 

She was certain of it.

Leafy had forgotten the last time her hands shook like this.

Four years ago, she had let this happen.


Back in BFDIA, when Firey’s name had hurt to say, when loving him felt like swallowing glass. She remembered the pain in her chest, the horror on her face when she had found out what it was from an old book at the Yoyleland Library. 

A disease, that despite being so rare, had managed to catch up to her twice now.


Bright red flowers littered the Yoyleland bushes, wherever she disappeared to. Anemones. She had taken various detours to the library, trying to find out what plagued her skies.
 

Forsaken love, fragility, and death. 

It was cruelly fitting. Leafy had waited, persisted. Despite being shoved aside and ignored by him, she never once thought of getting the surgery. A year later, she had forced herself to stop hoping. The disease went away on its own, along with her feelings for her first love.


She thought that was the end of it.


It had to be the end of it. 

This couldn’t be true. 

Leafy let out a sob, staring at the red water that swirled down her sink, and the petals now damp and littered everywhere.

The only thing she could hear now were her own sobs and the drip of water from the running tap. Her blurred gaze shifts in front of her. The mirror stares back.

She didn’t recognise the girl looking back at her. Her eyes were red. Her once rosy cheeks were pale. Her hair was messy, like she had just crawled out of her grave instead of her bed. There was water on her cheeks; maybe sweat, maybe tears. Leafy didn’t know.

She looked scared. 

Which is dumb, for someone like Leafy. For someone whose gone through abandonment, isolation, hatred, jealousy, and had spent countless days in the place between life and death, waiting for someone to recover her.

For someone whose gone through hell and back to be crying over flower petals.

But she seemed sad, and mostly, tired. 17 different kinds of exhaustion.

She stares at the girl in the mirror, waiting for her to disappear. Waiting for her to wake up. Waiting for her to say she’s just messing with Leafy.

But she doesn’t.

And her lips start to wobble. Leafy squeezes her eyes shut.

“I already did this,” she breathes. The words tangle together as Leafy repeats the phrase, over and over again. “I thought-“ she sobs, unable to finish the thought. I thought they were gone.

Her tears start before she can stop them; hard and fast, dripping off her chin and hitting the sink. She presses both hands over her mouth to stop it, but it doesn’t help. The sound breaks out anyway, tingly and weak. The kind that makes your whole body fold in on itself.

Leafy slid down until she hit the white tiles beneath her. She pulled her knees to her chest, head tucked inside as she cried. 

Why couldn’t she just move on? 

Just stop loving him.

Just be normal.

But every time she tried, every time she turned away, he’d come back, and give her yet another reason to stay.

And she hated it. She hated herself for loving him.

She dug her nails into her hands, trying to force herself to stop. But the tears kept coming. 

It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that he finally smiles at her. It’s not fair that he smiles at her, that he builds something for her.

It’s not fair that as soon as she let herself be happy, this came back; her body punishing herself for hoping. 

Her sobs echoed across the tiles. 

No answer. Of course there’s no answer.

After what feels like forever, the sobs turned into hiccups.

Then sniffles. 

Then just quiet, pathetic breaths.

She wiped her face one last time, anchoring herself to the sink as she stood. 

Her reflection looked worse now. Eyes swollen. Face blotchy.

But calmer. Or at least numb. And right now, that was good enough.

The sound of cold water hitting porcelain echoed across the bathroom. 

She turned off the tap.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Leafy started to wear the sweater more often.


As uncomfortable as it was, it hid the petals well. And with the dark emerald green of the hand’s rims, her blood was almost unnoticeable, unless someone paid close attention to it.

They didn’t, of course. 

The flowers would crumple under her thumb as she forced it down her sleeve, the soft petal brushing up against her bare arms and making her shiver. Whenever someone asked, she said it was just allergies. When Gelatin pondered, when Lollipop questioned her, it was always the same response. She’d dump them as soon as she got back home, petals of pink and white falling on the bottom of the plastic bag that lined her bin.

Firey would call at nights, asking for a movie night, for climbing into her window and watching the stars from her place. It hurt more than the flowers to type back a response.


‘Sorry, kinda busy. Maybe next time?’

‘Can’t today. Tired’

‘I’ll catch you later, promise.’

She’d see the typing bubble on his side hover for a few moments, before disappearing, and coming back again with;

‘Awww alr then’

‘You better not be ghosting me’

She’d try to laugh, but it hurt too much, so instead, Leafy switched off her phone and stared up at her ceiling again.


The next morning, she woke up tired.

Not the normal kind. Not the “staying up late talking to Firey” kind of tired.


The heavy kind. The one that made her trudge down the stairs and hunch over.


He noticed it immediately. 

Leafy was pressing her palm flat against her chest, like she could physically hold the flowers in, when Firey spoke.


“You look like you’re practicing your pose for your coffin.”


She rolled her eyes, forcing the smirk on her face, the words darkly fitting. “Haha. Very funny, Fireball.”

At first, it was easy to pretend. 

Leafy started carrying tissues everywhere. One in her sleeve, one in her pocket, one tucked away into her sleeve. She coughed more often, forcing it into her sleeve and using a quick excuse.

She started to notice her body move. The way her swallow burned in her throat. The way her voice started to rasp if she talked too much.


Leafy promised she’d catch up with Firey.


And she hates breaking promises.


But right now, there was nothing she could do about it.


Lately, everything felt twice as heavy. Like someone had doubled gravity and forgotten to tell her. Walking took more effort. Laughing was like sandpaper in her lungs.


When she’d slow down during contests, pretending to “tie her shoelaces” he’d always slow down to her pace. Even when she kneeled to simply undo her shoelaces and tie them again.


“I thought you were the fast one.”

Leafy would smile, being cut off by a fit of coughs.

“Woah,” Firey would say. “You’ve still got that cough?”


Leafy’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Unfortunately.”


“You sure you don’t want me to sneak into a pharmacy?”


She forced a laugh. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

It only got worse.


Some nights, she’d cough until her ribs ached, pressing the corner of her towel to her mouth so the others didn’t hear. Blood stained the blue fabric, petals tangled in folds. The thorns hurt the most, sharp and scratching against her throat. She learned to pull them out with shaky fingers, gagging over the sink.


Firey would always be there as soon as she came out of the house, like he was hovering over her.


“You talk less,” he stated, a little bit bland.


“Maybe you just talk more often.”


“Rude.”


She’d laugh it off, smiling, ignoring the petals she’d clutch behind her back.

He never called her out on it. Firey wasn't the confrontational type. Instead, he just showed up. A message here and there, a reminder whenever she didn’t show up.


‘u alive?’

‘r u skipping again? Slacker’

Always followed by some dumb emoji, or 'kidding, kidding'.


Leafy always laughed at those. Even if the sound didn't come out anymore.

When they did hang out, she kept a little space in-between them.


Half a step back. Or turning away when the cough racked up her ribs.


But Firey kept drifting closer anyway. Like he forgot personal space when they were together.


That made her heart hurt more than anything.


“You sound like a dying lawnmower,” he said while she clutched her throat.


She snorted, “Thanks.”


“I’m serious. If smoke starts coming out of your ears, I’m calling maintenance.”


Leafy laughed. It doesn't sound like her.


But it’s still a laugh, so he counted it as a win.


Firey noticed the tissues next. How she carried them around like a shield. One fell out of her pocket when she sat down beside him. Another tucked into her sleeve, like some weird magician trick but for the ill.


Firey raised an eyebrow. “Are you collecting those?”


She freezed, before blurting out, “They’re just tissues.”


“You’ve got like, twelve.”


“So?”


“So if you’re gonna keep blowing your nose, you’ll evaporate.”


She rolled her eyes.


He forced a grin.


But while she wasn't looking, Firey slid a fresh pack of tissues across the table. Just shrugged and said, “Bulk discount.”


It followed him. The worry. The concern. Not in a dramatic way; like a rock in his pocket he kept forgetting about until it knocked against his leg.

Leafy didn't show up the next time.


Firey waited longer than he meant to, checking his phone like maybe it would buzz if he stared at it for long enough.

He typed for a moment. Deleted it. Tries again.


She’s probably fine, he told himself. Leafy was always fine. Maybe he was overthinking it.


Eventually, he set his phone down, running a hand through his hair.


Sometimes Leafy caught him looking at her. Like there was a math problem written across her face and he couldn’t solve it.

And every time she noticed, she smiled. Bright and Automatic.


Because if he asked, really asked, Leafy wouldn’t be able to lie to him.


And that scared her the most.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Firey saw her on accident.

He swore he didn’t mean to. Sure, the past few months had been.. Weird, to say the least. As much as he wanted to hover around her, he knew that she wouldn’t have let him. So instead, she was the only thing that occupied his brain.


His hands were stuffed in his pockets, a black, zip-up jumper draped around his shoulders, a white shirt and grey, baggy jeans that made him look ‘basic’ according to her. He had walked this path countless times before.


Most of those times, with her. 

They used to always come here and take a stroll. Maybe go to the bakery nearby. She’d get her white chocolate and raspberry muffin, and he’d get his double choc one. Firey never got a drink, but she always got an espresso. Said it “kept her running”.


Nowadays, he never sees her up on her feet. He never sees her at all, actually.


Firey noticed the little stuff. Like how she’d have a water bottle glued to her side, or how she’d laugh awkwardly when he jokes about cough drops, or how she ‘d pause before she responded to him, like she had to physically instruct herself to breathe first.

‘I’m just sick’, she’d tell him, after every time she coughed. And maybe she was right. Maybe he was overthinking it. After all, Leafy would tell him if something was wrong. They were best friends.


But still, he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that weighed on his shoulders.


Firey was halfway down the street when he slammed into someone, shoulders clashing.


“Ah- Sorry-”


The two froze, staring at each other.


Leafy. 

Her arms were full of folded towels. New ones, with the price tag still attached. That alone made him worry. 

She looked wrong.


Her skin was pale; not tired-pale, sick-pale, the bags under her eyes telling him everything he needed to know. Her shoulders slumped in on themself in a way that made her seem small. For someone as neat and tidy as her, she was a mess, hair pushed back into a ponytail with flyaways sticking out from every direction. A bag was slung over her shoulder; just a simple tote bag, but it looked like it was going to tug her off balance. And to top it off, she was still wearing Flower’s sweater, though the colours had dimmed now.


That wasn’t his-

“Leafs?”


She jolted at the sound of her name, before a smile reached her face, but not her eyes. “Oh- hey.” Her voice was quiet and raspy, the sound alone making him shudder. 

“Wow,” he says lightly, forcing a grin.”There you are. I thought you went off-grid or something.”


She smiled, before starting to hack, pressing her sleeve to her mouth. “Sorry,” she croaked, brushing the corner of her lips. “Still fighting that stupid cough.”

He felt his heart sink. “Still? Leafy, it’s been ages.”

“I know.” She shifted her grip on the towels. Her arms drooped down, like she couldn’t bear the weight of it, making Firey feel sick. “I’ll be fine.”


He forced a smile. “I’m glad to see you again. Seriously, I was about to file a missing persons report. Put your face on milk cartons and everything.”


She smiled again. Too fast. Too fake. “Sorry, I’ve been,” Leafy clears her throat, gaze drifting to the pavement below, “busy.”


“With what, hibernation?”


“Firey.”


He paused, taking a good look at the silent pleading behind her gaze, and dropped it. “Alright, alright.” He glanced past her shoulder, spotting the bakery not too far away, as a grin reached his lips. “Hey, we should hang out. Y’know, catch up and everything. We can go to that bakery and you can get a white chocolate muffin with whatever.”


Her expression flickered. For a moment, it looked like she was considering it. Then, Leafy shook her head. “I can’t,” she said, voice quiet. “I’ve got.. cleaning to do.”


“Later then.”


“Firey-”


“Next week?”

She stared at him, a crease between his brows. 

Firey’s smile dropped. “C’mon, Leafs. I haven’t seen you in ages.”


“I’m sorry,” her gaze drifted to the towels in her hands, vision blurring over. “Not right now.”


“I miss you.”


He hadn’t meant to say those three words, but as soon as they left his mouth, Leafy froze, biting her tongue to stop her from saying something dumb in response. Instead she came out with, “I’m fine,” straightening her back and holding the towels to her chest, ignoring how her arms were shaking. 

“Okay, then at least let me carry those or walk you back or something. You look like you’re about to tip over.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Leafs.”

“I’m fine.”

He reaches for the towels anyway.

She steps back.

Harshly, almost, like she’s…

Afraid.


Firey freezes, his hand slowly falling back into place. “At least let me walk you halfway,” he tries again, softer. “I can be a gentleman, y’know.


Her fingers tightened around the fabric, unable to meet his gaze. “Please, Fireball.”


It was quiet. Tired.Like she couldn’t handle anything else right now, let alone him.

Firey froze. Then, he took a reluctant step back, palms lifted in the air in surrender. “Okay. I won’t push,” he said quickly. “You’re bossy when you’re sick.”


She smiles at that one. A small, real one.

“Thank you, Fireball.”


"Text me when you get home, alright?"


She went quiet for a moment, eyes still locked on the ground as she choked out an, "Okay."


And then Leafy walked past him. Firey stayed rooted to the ground, listening to her footsteps slowly fade into the bustling sounds of the street.


He told himself not to stare. Not to ask her to stay.


He didn’t. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ

Leafy didn’t remember how she made it home.

One second she was outside, air too cold in her lungs, streetlights smearing into yellow streaks.

The next, a key sat in her hand and she'd missed the lock three times before it finally managed to click itself into place.

Her fingers didn’t feel like hers anymore. They were numb and heavy, making her drag them to the door handle.

As she opened the door, she was met with the silence of their house. No one was home. Of course they weren’t. It was 1 already; they were probably outside with their friends, having fun. 

Leafy leaned against the entrance, pushing it to a close and clumsily locking it. It slammed shut harder than she meant it to.

Her bag dropped to the timber floor, forcing herself up the stairs.


Get it together, Leafy.


But she couldn’t.

Too much.

Everything was too much.

Her heart was aching, her head was pounding, and her throat was burning, 

Something carols up her throat. Not a cough. Not a wheeze; something much worse.

She had barely made it two steps before she doubled over.

The pain washed over her like a tsunami wave, her mouth filled with a metallic and sweet taste that made her gag.

Leafy stumbled down the hallway, shoulder pushing into walls and doors until she managed to shove her way into her bedroom, and then the bathroom connected to it. The light flicked on too bright, too white, burning her vision. A cough tore out of her chest so violently that her knees buckled, clutching at her throat as she gagged.


Then the nightmare started.

Petals spilled from her mouth, white and pink and red starting to drown her. Her lungs seized like they forgot how to work. A cough rips out of her before she can push a towel to her mouth. Then another.


And another.


Leafy couldn’t breathe, grabbing at any fragment of air she could take in.


Something scraped up her throat. Not liquid, not petals.


Something hard. 

Her hands clawed at the tiles underneath her, bouquets of anemones and primroses falling to the floor. They were too bright against the white porcelain, landing with a disgusting thud. A line of something dragged against her throat on the way out. Something with thorns and vines that snaked in the inside of her throat. The sound that escaped her was nothing short of a scream, a blood-curling, nauseating scream that echoed in the white walls of the bathroom, breaking into a sob halfway.

It was stuck, almost rooted inside of her. Leafy squeezed her eyes shut, grabbing it with shaking fingers and tugging.


Her thoughts blurred together. And out of everything, Firey flashed in her mind.


His laugh.


The way he said her name.


The stupid jokes.


The way he tried to beg her to stay.

It hurt like hell. Her throat burned with something boxed with blood and bile. It didn’t come out at first, lodged inside. Leafy gagged, letting out a cry, before pulling harder. The roots slid free with a sickening, wet sound. She tasted iron, petals stuck to her lips, hair plastered to her face with sweat, eyes watering.


Her body spasmed, shaking violently before the tiles slammed into her, knocking the wind out of her lungs.


Another cough, but nothing came out this time. Just choking without air. Her vision flickered, black around the edges. The only noise she could make out was the ringing in his ears.


Leafy grabbed onto the pipe under the sink, trying to push herself up.


Her legs didn't listen.


Leafy collapsed sideways onto the cold tile, cheek pressed against the floor and lying in a pool of blood and flowers. The air in her lungs came out short and weak, like each breath was optional.

The ceiling light blurred above her.


She’s so tired.


So, so tired.


Leafy’s eyes slowly drifted shut, trying to press out the mangled garden from her head.


Maybe if she just rested for a second.


The bathroom door shook, the handle shifting up and down. 

Don’t be dumb, she told herself. No one’s looking for you. 

Still, Firey’s face flashed in her mind again


“I miss you.”


Tears stung at her eyes, her chest growing tighter with each breath.


Sorry, she thought to herself, her hand slowly losing its grip on the tiles. I tried.


Darkness spills into the room, like water; slow and heavy.


And this time, Leafy doesn’t fight it. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Firey kicked the rocks that came across his path as he walked home, trying to shake the weird, tight feeling in his chest.


She’s just sick.


That’s all.


People get sick all the time.


That’s normal. Totally normal.

But still..


Firey shivered as soon as his mind rushed back to her pale cheeks, her hunched posture, her weak attempt at a smile.

“Don’t be stupid,” he muttered to himself, kicking a rock that hit the front of his boot. “She’s fine. Don’t make it weird.”


He made it halfway down his street when he stopped to glance back, replaying the moment.


How her hands were shaking.


How her eyes were glossy.


How she denied the prospect of him walking with her.

…

“No.”


He turned on his heel, boots digging into the dirt as he stormed back. “Absolutely not.”


Firey didn’t care whether she was actually just sick at this point. He needed to see her. He needed to talk to her, to hear her voice one more time, when it didn’t sound weak and pleading.


He started walking back.


Then jogging, heart thudding for a reason he didn’t want to say.

She’s fine, he said to himself.


But he was already running. 


Firey took the stairs two at a time, completely oblivious to anyone that stood in his path. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been running for when he arrived in front of her place. The boy pulled himself to a halt in front of the entrance, breath shaky and uneven from how she’d plagued his mind. His knuckles hit the doorframe, insistent.


“Leafy?” He called. “Hey, it’s me.”


Firey was met with the sound of silence, which was scarier than any response could have been.


Maybe she was just showering. Or asleep.


Nonetheless, the knock grew louder. “You okay?”


Silence.


Firey pulls his phone out of his pocket, scrolling down to her contact and pressing call. Once. Twice. Straight to voicemail.


Usually she answers straight away, or there’s music from the door. Movement. Something.


But today, the house was silent.


His throat grew dry, hands rummaging inside his jacket’s pocket until his finger hooked onto the spare key. The one she gave him forever ago, “just in case”. They had laughed about it, but Firey had never taken it out of his jacket. He’s never had to use it before. But today, his hands shook as he slid it inside.


“Leafy?” he calls out for her again, voice softer. “I’m coming in, okay?”


Firey took a deep breath, the door creaking open as he stepped inside.


“Hey” he said, looking around. “Sorry for the surprise.”


The house feels weird.


It wasn’t dirty necessarily. Just stale. Heavy. Like the air hadn’t moved in hours.


He glanced around, trudging up the stairs. Leafy’s room was the one at the end of the hallway; he knew that from the countless times he’d been invited by Gelatin, and seen her close the door.


Firey hesitated. Her door was wide open.


Leafy never left her door open.

With a few steps, Firey let himself inside, taking in the area.


It looked off.


She was always such a neat person. Every time he came over, he’d find her dusting off her shelf or re-organising her books.


Tissues were littered across the room; on her side table, on the windowsill, in the little bin next to her study desk. It wasn’t destroyed or dramatic. Just neglected.


This wasn’t Leafy.

A jacket was slung over her chair, when normally, she would’ve put it back in her cupboard, and a mug left untouched on the counter; something odd when considering how much Leafy loved to do the dishes.


Firey swallowed. Hard.

“Leafy?” he called again, louder this time.


Then he hears it. A sound from her bathroom, and a slit of white, artificial light seeping through the crack underneath the door.


He sighs, the tightness in his chest loosening tenfold. She’s just in the bathroom, he thought. God I’m stupid.


Then he heard something hit the floor. Something far too heavy to be an object.


His heart slams  against his ribs. “Leafy?” Firey’s feet moved before his brain did, trying to open the door. Locked. “Leafy, open the door,” he said, ignoring the way his voice shook.

No. No, no, no-

Firey couldn’t stop himself from stuttering as he fiddled with the handle. “This isn't funny, Leafs.” Firey pounded at the door, nails digging into his palm. “Answer me- Please.”


The emptiness was horrifying.


Something cold crawled up his spine, and in that moment, Firey didn’t think.


He just moved. Took a step back-

-and slammed his shoulder into the door.

He grit his teeth to cancel out the pain.


Again. Harder.

The frame splintered along the middle.

“Come on,” he begged.


Firey ran to the other side of the room, slamming into the door at full speed.


With a deafening crack, the lock gave in, and the door burst open.


The light was so bright, blinding almost.


Once his vision settled, he forgot how to breathe, the scent of iron and fragrance flossing his senses.

Petals.


There were petals everywhere.


Scattered across the tile. On the sink, on the floor. A few roots sat on top of a pool of blood, twisted and coiled after having earned their place there. It was a nightmare. Like someone had dunked the remnants of a garden here, or the inside of a compost bin after tending to weeds. 

And in the middle of it-


Leafy.


Collapsed on her side in a pool of blood.

She was pale, her sweater now damp with the same red that smeared the tile and her mouth.


He refused to understand what he was looking at.


It didn’t make sense. 

It didn’t make sense. 

It didn’t-

“LEAFS!”


He dropped to his knees beside her so fast it hurt. “Leafy- No. No, no, no-” Firey turned her over gently, hands shaking so badly he was scared he’d drop her.


Her skin was cold.


Her head lolled onto his shoulder as he cradled her in his arms.


Her eyes wouldn’t open.


Firey shook her gently, forcing his hand steady. “C-Come on, Leafs. Stop messing with me.” The blood on her sweater stained his white shirt, petals sticking to his sleeves.


This wasn’t funny. She’d sit up soon enough. She’d laugh. Any second now.


Instead, her hand went slack against his.


He pressed his head to her shoulder, trembling.


That’s when he heard it.


A small, yet undeniable breath.


“Oh my spark-” His hands were everywhere at once, checking her face, her shoulders, brushing the petals and blood from her mouth.


“Leafy, hey- hey, stay with me, okay?” His voice broke completely, crying before he realised it.


He can’t think of anything right now.


Except the hospital.


Firey scooped her into his arms, one under her knees, the other against her back and holding her head in place, ignoring the thorns that dug into his arms and the blood that slicked his palms. She was too light, like if he looked away for a second, she’d disappear.

The thought alone kills him.


And so he runs.


Out the door. Down the stairs. Nearly trips twice. Doesn’t stop for a second. 

His lungs burned, his legs screamed for him to stop. He’s never run this fast in his life.


But not for a moment does he think of slowing. 

Firey doesn’t stop talking, even though she can’t hear him.

“Stay with me, okay?”


“You’re gonna be fine. You hear me? You have to be.”


Like if he stopped, she’d stop too.

He heard cars honking and people shouting at him, but it all blurred into one as he moved, feet hitting the pavement with a fever he didn’t know he had.

By the time he reached the hospital, Firey was trembling, holding Leafy with a grip that refused to loosen. He burst through the door, voice breaking as he pleaded for help. Pleaded for anyone. His voice cracked so much he barely sounded human. “I need help, please, she’s not-” his breath hitched, grip tightening around her, “she’s not waking up.”


People turn. A nurse rushes forward. Then another, along with a stretcher. 

“Sir, we’ve got her-”


He backed up a little. “No- wait- be careful-”


He refuses to let go at first. Then he feels a hand on his shoulder; one of the older nurses with blonde hair and wrinkles. “It’s okay, dear. We’ll do our best.”


Firey froze for a few moments, then hesitantly let go, watching Leafy be wheeled out into another room. They were gentle, but it still felt violent. Like someone had ripped something out of his chest. Her weight left his arms, and Firey stood there for a few moments, staring at the door from which she had disappeared into, hands curled in on themself like he was still holding her.


But he wasn’t.


Firey hesitantly looked down at the red on his hands.


He was going to puke.


The nurse helped him to the waiting room outside of where they were keeping her, trying to reassure him before she left.


Firey being left alone with his thoughts was a dangerous thing.

He stared at the petals that had stuck to his shirt. The blood that stained the fabric. 

Why were there flowers?


Why was she coughing up blood?


Is she okay?


And most importantly;


Why didn’t she tell me?

Firey’s hands shook, his mind drifting back to their last meeting. To Leafy carrying towels in her arms, to her denying his help, to her carrying tissues around like armour-


…

It was never a cough.

It was never “just a cough”.

He stared at the ground, hands shaking in his lap.


“She wasn’t just sick.” The words barely come out. His throat burned. 

No normal person starts hacking up blood when they get a cough. No normal person has to go through that in their lifetime.


So why Leafy?


Firey sat there for a few more minutes, before pulling his knees up to his chest and burying his face inside, body wracking with silent, ugly sobs. 

The only coherent thing that came out of his mouth were his silent pleads for her to be okay. For her to wake up.

The waiting room echoed with the clock’s tick.

Every second sounded like it was mocking him.


Firey didn’t know how long he’d sat here for. Maybe an hour. Maybe three. But he hadn’t moved much.


The white shirt he had on was now red and dried up, and his arms had fragments of crusted, dried blood that he didn’t wash off. Firey’s head was still tucked in his knees, hands stained pink no matter how many times he’d scrubbed them in the sink down the hall. The blood wouldn’t come out from underneath his fingernails. So eventually, he stopped trying.


Everytime the doors down the courier swung open, his neck snapped up so fast it made him dizzy.

Every time it wasn’t a doctor. Wasn’t news.


Wasn’t her. 

He had tried to look it up on his phone, to find out himself what was going on with her. But every time he pressed the search bar, his hands started to shake again.


The doors swung open again, a pair of footsteps storming through.


“Firey?”


His eyes flicked up.

Oh.


Coiny, and Pin right next to him.


They both looked like they had sprinted the whole way here, panting.


“You-” Coiny took a deep breath in, steadying his voice. “You texted ‘hospital’ and then stopped replying,” he said. “What happened? Where’s Leafy?”


Firey opened his mouth.


Nothing came out.


His throat felt glued shut.


Pin’s eyes dropped to the stains on his shirt, face growing pale. “Firey,” she said, slowly. “Whose blood is that?”

“She said she was just sick,” Firey cut him off, hands starting to shake once more. “S-She said it was just a cold, and I believed it, Coiny. I joked about getting her cough drops and robbing a pharmacy,” he let out a broken sob, burying his face into his chest.


Pin stepped closer, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Hey-”


“She’s weak and pale,” Firey gasped for air through his sobs. “She looks nothing like herself. She’s not-”


“Firey.”


“She’s not Leafy.”


He hid his head back into his knees, trying to drown out what had just happened.


Coiny rested a hand on his back hesitantly, brows furrowed with concern. “What happened?”

…


“I used a spare key to get into her place, just to check in on her. She,” he paused, swallowing hard. “She was lying in her own blood. And there were flowers and roots and-” Firey forced himself to be quiet, tears stinging at his eyes again.


“She didn’t tell anyone?” Pin asked, sitting on the other side of him.


“Of course she didn’t,” Firey choked out, a small humorless laugh escaping his lips. “She’s Leafy. She never tells anyone when stuff like this happens.”


A silence settled across them for a few moments, all three clearly shaken.


“Hey,” Coiny said quietly, putting on a smile. “You did the right thing bringing her in.”


“Did I?” His head snapped up, and the two got a good look at him for the first time. His eyes were red and glossy after crying for hours, hair damp across his forehead, and lips quivering. “Because I saw her. I saw her and I treated it like nothing.”


Coiny shifted uncomfortably. “You didn’t know-”

“I should’ve known.” Firey snapped, glaring at him with teary eyes. “No one stays sick for that long. No one coughs for months on end.” Firey’s head ducked back behind his knees. “I’m her best friend,” he cried, “I’m supposed to know.”


Pin sighed, reaching out to his arm.


He jerked back. 

“She’s been suffering this whole time,” his voice rose, despite it cracking apart mid-sentence, “and I made jokes about it because I didn’t want it to be awkward between us.” Firey pressed the base of his palm to his ears to stop the shaking.


“I finally get her back,” he whispers hoarsely, heartstrings tearing, “after months of fighting and everything going wrong. And the second things are okay, she’s dying.”


The doors opened again.

This time, it was a man in scrubs with a white coat around his shoulders and a clipboard.

“Family or friends of Leafy?”

All three of them bolted upright immediately. 

“That’s us,” Pin said, tugging at the fabric of her jeans.

The doctor glanced between them, face unreadable.

“Leafy’s alive. She’s not in good condition, but she’s alive.”

Firey’s knees almost gave out relief. “Can I see her?”

The doctor hesitated. “We might have to give her some time before anyone comes inside.”

His heart dropped, Coiny managing to fill the silence. “What happened earlier? With the flowers and the-” he cut himself off, glancing quickly at Firey’s stained shirt before looking away.

The doctor sighed. “We ran some scans and checked her airways. “What she’s experiencing isn’t a normal illness.” The doctor looked between the three for a moment, before speaking once more. “Leafy is suffering from the Hanahaki disease.” 

Firey felt the dread come back again. He blinked. “What?”

“It’s a rare, non-infectious disease, caused by emotional stress,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “often when someone is suppressing strong emotional feelings for someone else.”

“What does this have to do with the flowers and the blood?” Pin asked, sharing a worried glance with Coiny.

The doctor sighed. “In Hanahaki, the body physically reacts to these strong feelings. Plant tissue begins forming in the lungs.”

Firey just stared, starting to shake once more. “Plant… tissue?”

“Unfortunately,” the doctor said, voice much more gentle compared to a few seconds ago. “Petals, roots and thorns, or whole flowers, depending on how bad it gets.”

Silence rang out across the three.

“The coughing you saw,” the doctor continued, “is the body trying to expel it. But over time, the flowers and thorns causes internal tearing, bleeding, or oxygen loss.”


Pin covered her mouth.


Coiny froze.


Firey stared at the floor.


“If untreated,” he paused.


“It can become fatal.”


Fatal.


Firey stared at the floor, chest heaving.


Flowers.


Blood.


The tissues.


The distance.


All those times she had said she was okay…


His breath started coming in short, quiet gasps.

“The two different kinds of flowers indicate that this has happened before, and those feelings were never truly expelled for the beloved.”


Firey couldn’t breathe.

“There has to be something,” he choked out, gaze hardening as he looked at the doctor. “You can do something about it, right?”

…


“There are three options.”


They held their breath as the doctor spoke.


“Leafy could have the surgery. All the flowers and roots would be removed from her lungs. However, the feelings for the person would be erased, with no chance of them resurfacing.”


Coiny paused. “And the other two?”


“Hanahaki can be prevented by the victim confessing their feelings to the beloved, and it being reciprocated.”


Pin was quiet for a moment. “If it’s not?”


“If it’s not,” the doctor continued, “the flowers will eventually take over her.”


Firey stared at the floor underneath the doctor.


Surgery.


A confession.


Or death.


Those were her only options.

“This is stupid,” he muttered, voice cracking despite himself.


Coiny shot him a warning with his eyes. “Firey-”


“No- we can just-” he paused, eyes brightening, “we can just recover her. That’ll fix everything.”


The man’s expression softened.


“Recovery restores physical injury,” he said, “but Hanahaki isn’t just damage. It’s biological growth. The flowers would still be present in her system once she is recovered.”


“What?”


The doctor continued. “If she were recovered without treatment, the disease would simply continue progressing.”


“That doesn’t make any sense,” he snapped.


“I know it’s difficult-”


“No, it’s-” Firey looked past his blurry vision. “It doesn’t make sense. We’ve been blown up before, disintegrated, yelled at by, by what, a talking number, and recovery works just fine.” His hands shook as he talked, frantic. “You’re telling me flowers are the only thing they can’t fix?”


“You don’t understand. This isn’t something recovery can erase.”


He glared at the man in front of him, gaze sharp as he forced himself to crane his neck up to look at the man. “You don’t understand,” his voice was thin, weak, though he forced the words out. “Leafy’s been through hell and back- She’s lived off of just Yoyleberries for years, she’s burnt to death in a lava waterfall, she’s-” he winced at that last one, fingers twitching. “She’s Leafy, goddamit. A flower wouldn’t bring her down.”


Silence stretched across the four.


“She-” his voice broke midway. “She can’t-”


He couldn’t finish the sentence.


The doctor didn’t make him.


“I’ll give you three some time to process this,” he said softly, stepping back. “I’ll keep you updated.”


The door clicked shut behind him.


Firey stood there for a second, before sinking into the chair as his legs gave up once more, hands in his hair and gaze locked on the floor.

“Flowers,” he said quietly, met with the silence of Coiny and Pin. Despite it all a short, huff of a laugh escaped him. 

“Out of everything she’s gone through, flowers.”


His hands started shaking again, tears welling up in his eyes and fogging the edges of his vision.


“I thought she was just sick,” the voice came out hoarse and quiet. “I thought she just didn’t want to hang out with me anymore. That she needed space.”


His voice gave in. “I thought she was avoiding me.”


Coiny kneeled in front of him. “Firey, you didn’t know. None of us did.”


“I could’ve asked.”


He felt pathetic. He felt weak and vulnerable and dumb for not noticing this sooner. “I stopped asking sometimes,” he whispered to no one in particular. “I didn’t want to be annoying.”


Pin’s face fell. “Firey, this isn’t your fault.”


But he couldn't hear anything but his thoughts. And god, were his thoughts loud.


“And she was-”


His throat closed.


“She was dying right in front of me.”


Those few words broke him.


Leafy was supposed to be talking, to be with him right now. To nudge him shoulder and tell him he was being dramatic.


But she wasn’t. 

He curled forward, elbow on his knees to stop himself from folding like a sheet of paper.


The room was filled with his silent sobs.


Pin wrapped an arm around him. Coiny squeezed his shoulder. But nothing drowned out the sobs.


He just sat there and cried into his hands, small and shaking and wrecked, while Leafy lay in that hospital bed. Waiting and waiting for her to wake up. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The hallways smelled clean.

Firey didn’t like it.

He liked Leafy-clean, the kind that consisted of lit cinnamon candies, and brooms and music.

Not this.

He sat next to Pin and Coiny for what levels like forever, until the doctor came back.

When they finally let him in, his legs almost gave out. 

Firey didn’t hesitate, already rushing to the door with shaky hands that missed the handle twice before pushing it open.


“Leafs-”


He froze in the doorway.


She looked small in her hospital bed; Tubes taped to her arms, dried, crusted blood on her arms, blankets that swallowed her whole. Her face was paler than before, if that was even possible, arms resting by her sides and hair out of that ponytail he had seen her in before, splaying against the white pillow behind her. 

Firey crossed the room slowly, afraid of making too much of a noise. A chair that was once at the corner of the room now scraped against the floor, placed directly next to her bed and sat beside her, hands shaking so much he had to hold the mattress to stop them.

For a long moment, he couldn’t do anything but stare, eyes locked on the slow rise-and-fall of her chest like if he didn’t, she’d stop.


“You look… bad.”


Firey winced immediately. “Sorry. Bad timing.”


Leafy gave no response. No roll of her coffee brown eyes, no snicker, nothing.

God, did that hurt.


“I knew something was wrong,” he muttered, looking at her face like she’d wake up any moment now. “I knew it, and I didn’t do anything.”

“I thought you were just being you.” The words came out faster now, messy and unfiltered. Firey pressed the base of his palm into his eyes to stop himself from crying. It didn’t work. “Saying it was fine and brushing it off. I thought-” he choked on his own words, a sob bubbling up in his chest. “I thought you’d tell me if it was serious.”


A broken laugh slipped out, watery and weak. “Real smart of me, huh.”


Firey’s hand rested next to hers for a hesitant moment, before he felt the cold of her fingertips against his. He ran his fingers over her knuckles like he had done countless times before, a small gasp leaving his lips.


“You were right there. You were dying, and I just-” his voice collapsed.

“I watched you walk away from me.”


He sniffled, a tear rolling down his face and landing on the bedsheet below. “I let this happen.”


Tears started to fall freely now, Firey scrubbing at his face angrily like he was mad at himself for getting emotional.

“I’m sorry Leafs,” he managed to choke out between sobs, forehead resting near her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

The only sound was the heart monitor and her faint breathing. 

“You’re not supposed to be the one in here,” he whispered to her.  “You bring soup and blankets and dumb motivational speeches.”


Firey lets out a weak laugh. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick in my life.”


His throat tightened again, shoulders starting to shake. “I don’t know what to do without you. And I don’t wanna have to find out.”

He took a long, broken breath, clutching her hand like it was the last thing keeping him alive.

“Please, Leafs…”

His thumb rubbed over her knuckles again and again, trying to remind himself that she’s real.

The beeping didn’t change for a few, agonizingly long seconds.

Then he felt a small press on his hand. 

Firey froze, gaze locking on her.

“Leafs?”


He leans forward, chair scraping back against the floor.


Her breathing stutters, sending Firey’s heart into a whirlwind of hope.

“Hey- hey, c’mon-”


His voice quivered, hand tightening on hers as he prayed for her to wake up.


The monitor picked up speed.

The blankets underneath her shifted.


And through a glassy gaze and clumped eyelashes, Leafy opened her eyes.


They were dazed, unfocused, and heavy, but they were open. 

“Oh my spark,” he breathed, a laugh breaking out of him before he could stop it. “You’re awake.”

He leaned forward without thinking, freezing when he realised he didn’t know where to put his hands. They fell back to his sides, his gaze locked on her. 

Leafy felt the fog in her mind lift, looking up at the white ceiling that encased her. Her body felt stiff, numb, almost. Like the air around her was made of syrup.


The faint sound of beeping met her ears, along with a muffed voice.


She squinted, trying to push herself up into sitting. Her chest tightened, tasting the sweet feeling of blood below her tongue.


A hand pushed her down. Gentle and shaking.


“Hey- Slow down,” the voice stuttered, gently guiding her shoulder back to the mattress. 

Leafy tore her vision away from the ceiling, facing the shadow in front of her.


A flicker of orange met her gaze, and something soft in brown eyes. They were red, puffy, like the shadow had been crying. 

“Just- just lie down, Leafs.”

Leafs. 

She went quiet for a moment.


“Fi-,”


Her thought scraped painfully, making her wince.


“No- don’t-” he took in a shallow breath before continuing. “Don’t even think about talking right now. Just- just rest, okay?” Firey grew quieter. “Please.”


He sounded terrified.

Leafy looks at him.

Really looks.

And everything crashed down at once.

The hospital bed.


The monitor.


The IVs.


The fact that he’s here, with the print of flower petals covered in blood on his shirt.

Her hands started to shake, tears already welling up. 

He saw.

He knew.


Leafy must’ve looked awful; covered in tubes, and pale, and weak. He’d probably just stayed for pity.

She turned her face away, shoulders tense like she’s bracing for something.


For disgust.


For rejection.


Firey felt her hand slipping out of his grasp. “Leafy?” he said softly.


Leafy flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry,” she croaked out, throat growing tight again.


He blinked. “What?”


She weakly lifted her wrist, gesturing to the state she was in while not meeting his gaze. “Sorry.”


He just stared at her, like his mind had drawn a point-blank to whatever she was trying to tell him.

Then his face crumpled.

Not disgusted. Not revolted.

Hurt.

Like she’d punched him in the heart.


“Leafy, what?” He exhaled sharply, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. “You think I care about that?”


He knew it wasn’t funny, but he laughed anyway, short and sharp. “Oh my spark, Leafs.” A small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. “You’re- you’re insane.”


Her eyes flicked up, uncertain, hesitant. Firey leaned forward, elbows resting on the mattress as he lifted her hand into the grip of both of his. “I don’t care if you look like you just crawled out of a dumpster, or if you cough rocks, or flowers, or whatever.”

Firey's thumb ran over her knuckles, eyes growing red once more. “You scared the hell out of me.”


Leafy paused, finally meeting his gaze. Her heart throbbed.


God, this boy. 

Silence settled over them. The kind where neither knew what to say, so instead they just looked into each other's eyes.


Her chest grew tight.


“I’m sorry.” The sound came out as a semblance to a whisper, strained. “I’m so sorry, Leafs.”


She tried to speak, but when no sound came out, she just shook her head weakly.


Firey’s gaze fell to her hand in his, forcing it to stay there. “I should’ve known. I should’ve asked as soon as I knew something was wrong.” He let out a breath. “But I didn’t.”


A muscle ticked in his jaw, Firey turning the other way to let the tears drop onto the bedsheet instead of her hand. 

“I just- I thought you were tired. Or stressed. Or being stubborn like you always are.” His voice cracked, blinking hard like he could force the tears back.

“I didn’t think it was this bad.”


Leafy watched him quietly.

He looked smaller like this, crying and hunched over her hospital bed. 

Not the loud, reckless Firey everyone else knew. 

Just… him.

A kid sitting too close to a hospital bed, gripping her hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

C’mon. 

Leafy’s hand shook as she lifted it, gently ruffling his orange locks.


Firey let out a half-sob, swallowing as he glanced up at her.


She forced a weak smile, croaking out the words, “Crybaby.”


Something left his mouth, a ghost of a laugh. “Not the time, Leafs.”


They sat together for a few moments.

“The doctors talked to us,” he said suddenly, like he needed to say something useful before he drowned in guilt. “While you were out.”

Her brows knit.


Firey met her gaze, firm and insistent. “There’s options,” he said. “Not just a ‘wait-and-see’. The doctor went on and one about it-”


He stopped himself, exhaling. “The point is, you’re not stuck like this, okay?” he said softly, eyes brightening. “We can fix it.”


Leafy stilled, her fingers twitching in his as the words failed to process in her head. “Fix?”


“Yeah,” he nodded quickly, talking like he’d run out of time. “He said the surgery's the fastest. They can clear everything up. No more coughing, no more flowers-” Firey cut himself off.


He tried to smile at her. It shook just enough for her to notice.


“You’d be back to yelling at me in, like, a week. Dream come true, honestly.”

She didn’t laugh. Didn’t smile.

Instead, her grip tightened weakly.


He paused. “Leafs?”


She shook her head, biting her tongue before speaking. “No.”


“Huh?”


Leafy closed her eyes, brows now furrowed. “No surgery.”

…


His chest tightened. “Hey, hey, don’t make that decision now. You just woke up-”


“No.”


He just stared at her for a few moments, confused. “Why?”


“It’ll-” she paused, catching her breath. “-Go away.”

The doctor’s words echoed in his head.


However, the feelings for the person would be erased, with no chance of them resurfacing.


Firey just stared at her incredulously. The room went quiet. “Leafy,” he said, shoulders slumping. “You’re not throwing away your life for some crush.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.. Forget.”

He stood up abruptly, pacing the floor. “You’re telling me you’d rather keep coughing up plants, and for what? Someone who might not even like you back?”

The words came out sharper than he meant them to. Fear always did that to him. 

He stopped, turning back to look at Leafy. 

Small. 

Hooked up to wires and machines.


Breathing like every inhale hurts. 

His voice broke. “That’s not fair, Leafs.”

Leafy simply shook her head in response. “He-”


Her gaze met his, softened by the pain. “He deserves,” she paused, “everything.”


Firey just stared at her, wiping his eyes before he slumped back into the chair. “Then talk to them.”

She winced at his words. 

“If they’re sane, they’ll say yes.” He leaned forward, hands gripping the railing of the bed. “I’ll help. I’ll go and talk to them myself if you can’t. Hell, I’ll threaten them if I have to.”

Her gaze softened. 

His eyes grew glassy once more, clutching her hand like a lifeline. “He’d be crazy not to love you.”

If she could tell him that he was everything to her. 

If he declined.

Firey kept going, rambling now. “And if they don’t, fine. You can get the surgery, and I’ll hate them ‘till the end of time. We can egg their house or something.”

His voice trembled. 

“I’m not losing you over some idiot who can’t see what’s right in front of them.”

Leafy stayed silent, hand still in his. 

…

Firey let out a quiet sigh, holding her hand in his. “Fine, how about this? I’ll coach you.”


She stared at him for a few moments.


“Y’know, I’ll run through what you need to say. Then, I can bring him in, and everything will go just fine.”

She would’ve said no. 

She should’ve said no. But then she looked at him. At the dark bags that weighed under his eyes, at his ragged hair, at the way he wouldn’t let go of her hand. 

And the word-


“Okay.”


-slipped out before she could stop it.

Leafy hadn’t seen him smile that widely in a long time. Not a teasing smirk. Not a sarcastic grin. 

That real, wide, bright smile he rarely wore. The kind that made his eyes crease at the corners.

He squeezed her hand, hiding the tears behind his eyes. “Piece of cake.”

And she smiled despite herself.

The next few days blurred together. Hospitals usually did that. 

Everything around her smelt like disinfectant and air that was too clean. 

But Firey stayed, his cinnamon scent lingering in those four walls. 

Leafy would wake up and he’d already be there, chin slouched against the mattress and gaze stuck on her.

Sometimes he seemed asleep, but as soon as she shifted, his head would jolt up, like he was never fully out.

He brought her comfort and hospital food reviews like he was an established food critic. “This could never live up to the rotisserie chicken from Costco.”

She’d huff out a laugh, him mentally punching the air in victory, absurdly proud of himself.

The coaching started slowly. 

Which mostly led to firey pacing the room like he was giving her a TED Talk. 

After maybe three of four failed, he’d sit on the edge of her mattress, shaking his head. “Okay, fine. New plan. You just say ‘I like you’. It's easy and efficient.”

She chuckled, before coughing once more, her throat closing in on itself. 

By the time she stopped, Firey would already have a hand on her back, holding a tissue nearby. 

“Hey- Hey, easy, Leafs.”

He didn’t let go until she slumped back against the pillow. Firey quietly moved to put the tissue on the bin, acting like the blood didn’t scare him.

Sometimes, they didn’t talk at all. He’d just sit there, forehead rested against the mattress and hand in hers. 

Other times, he’d try over and over again to suss out just who her beloved was, throwing guesses she never responded to. 

Because if she did, she was afraid it would break her.

The days stacked up. 

Small jokes. 

Quiet moments.

His terrible practice lines.

No matter when, Firey’s hand would always find hers.

Like if he held on tight enough, nothing would happen.

Like he could keep her here by force. 

Leafy lay there, watching him ramble about how easy the confession would be, and how she just needed to tell him who it was.

One thought repeated in Leafy’s head, her heart twisting tighter each time:

You’re the one, Fireball. 

Somehow, that hurt more than the flowers had. 

His thumb rubbed over her knuckles like always, warm and grounding.

She focused on that, because suddenly, it hurt to breathe.

Like before. 

Leafy tried again.


In. Out. In-

Too fast. 

Her chest tightened, grip tightening on the bed’s handrails. 

Firey froze. “Leafs? You okay?”

She tried to nod, but the choked gasp that escaped her lips betrayed her. Something tasted sweet. Metallic. Wrong.

She coughed. 

Firey’s chair scraped back against the floor as he stood, holding her upright. “Hey, c’mon, easy-”

Leafy’s spine coiled, keeling over herself as her body started to writhe. The pressure built fast this time, like someone was twisting her lungs. The fingers interlocked with his twitches.

“Hey- Leafs- Look at me-”

She tried to sit up. 

Air. She just needed air.

But no matter how many times she gasped, nothing came.

The monitor beside her bed changed rhythm.

Firey froze, a rattling, involuntary shake building inside him. “No. No, this can’t-”

Her breaths turned shallow, fast and panicked. She could hear her own heart in her ears, making Firey’s pleads and the heart monitor sound like static.

The beeping became faster. More insistent.

“Breathe,” he pleaded, hands starting to shake. “C’mon- just breathe-”

Her chest hurt. 


God, it hurt.

Like vines warping around her heart and squeezing until it burst.

“Leafy!”

She tried. She really did. 

His face blurred.

The lights were too bright. Too white. Too blinding.

The room tilted on its side.

Firey slammed down on the emergency call button with his palm. “Hello?! Nurse! Anyone!”

Nothing. 

He pulls her into his arms, hands balling up the fabric of her hospital gown.

“Leafy,” he cried, “stay with me, okay? Please-”

Her vision started to tunnel, everything warping into one, black seeping into the edges.

She could barely feel her body.

Just his hands splayed on her back.

“Hold on for me, okay?” His grip tightened, if that was even possible. “You’re gonna be okay, you have to.”

Her body convulsed in his arms, the familiar scent of pollen flooding her senses.

The monitor sped up.

Firey sobbed now, tears falling onto her white dress. “No, please- Don’t do this- Don’t you dare do this to me-”

She’d never heard him cry before.

“I can’t-” his voice broke, head buried in her shoulder, “I can’t lose you- Not again.” The sound was gut-wrenching, making Leafy’s eyes grow glassy and foggy with the tears that swam
inside. 

Everything felt so heavy.

Just rest, a voice told her. You’ll be okay. 

Leafy’s arms started to droop against him. 

“No- Leafy, please!”

His wails echoed across the room. 

People said that once someone dies, seven minutes from their life play. Only the seven best ones.

Firey was in all of them.


"Leafy! C'mon- Just hold on- please-"

I’m sorry, she thought before her eyes shut and her throat filled with petals.

“No- nonono- You can’t leave me- I-”

I’m sorry, Fireball.

“I love you.”

Leafy knew grief. She had lived with it. Danced with it. She knew it from the inside-out. 

She knew it when he screamed her name and begged her to stay.

…

The monitor skipped a beat. 

She gasped for air. 

And for the first time in months,

It came.

He froze, gaze flicking from the screen to her in tears. His eyes were red and glossy, tears still falling down his cheeks and off his chin. Hands still shaking.

“You…”

Everything felt slow.

But he was right in front of her. 

Eyes red.

Cheeks wet.

Lip between his teeth to stop himself from crying.

Leafy looked up at him, and for a moment, neither of them said anything.

Her chest started to ache again. Not the pain from before, but something softer. Dumber.

She lifted her hand, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Firey paused, then leaned in, because he couldn’t say no to her.

“Leafs-“

Her other hand caught his collar, and before he could say another word, she pulled him down until their lips collided.

It’s clumsy. So clumsy that their foreheads bumped into each other, and their teeth knocked a little because she misjudged the distance.

But she didn’t care, her lips warm, and shaky, and a little chapped.

Firey didn’t move.

For half a second, he didn’t even breathe. 

Then, he leaned closer, one hand moving to cup her cheek like she was fragile, the other tangling itself in her hair.

He was still shaking. Not the small kind. Completely trembling, like the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet. His thumb shook against her cheek, tears rolling down his face.

The oxygen tube shifted awkwardly between them. The hospital blanket tangled around their arms. Nothing about it was graceful, but neither of them pulled away.

Firey let out a shaky breath against her lips, kissing her like she was the only thing in the world.

And to him, she was.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

Two days later, they’re not in a hospital room anymore.

Leafy held a coaster in her hands, looking out the foggy glass window.

The air smelt like coffee instead of antiseptic.

Cups clinked. Someone laughed. A chair scraped against the timber floor.

Leafy had always liked window seats. 

Something about being able to look outside makes everything feel less… trapped.

Hospitals didn’t have windows that open. Just glass. Sealed and stale.

Her hot chocolate sits untouched in front of her, a stream curling upwards and fogging a part of the window.

She was still getting used to this. To be able to breathe without hiding petals, to be able to not have to carry tissues with her, to be able to finally throw away that old sweater.

Her throat still ached when she swallowed. Not painful, just sore. Like she’d been at a concert all night. The doctors said that the marks the thorns had left would need a while to
recover. So until she did, Firey took her to the cafe down the street.

“Bon appétit, Leafs.”

He set down a plate on the empty spot in front of her, the wafting, familiar scent of a raspberry-white chocolate muffin sitting in front of her.

She huffed out a laugh, a smile playing on her lips. “You know me so well.”


Firey smiled, taking his seat on the other side of the round table, and setting down his own plate with a double chocolate muffin balanced on top. 

“Again?” she teased, rolling her eyes playfully.

He scoffed, hand to his heart in dramatics. “First of all, how dare you.” A laugh bubbled in her chest as he spoke. “Chocolate is the best, and I’ll die on that hill.”

As her laughs died down, the two sat in silence, the comfortable kind. The kind where nothing had to be said, because their eyes said enough.

“How do you feel?” He asked, voice suddenly softer. Firey did that whenever he got worried. 

Leafy’s gaze moved to the window. To the boy outside chasing down pigeons. To the botanist where she could actually smell the flowers. 

And she responded, with a quiet, “Good.”

Firey let out a breath he didn’t know he had, the line between his brows fading away. “That’s,” he paused, smiling. “That’s good.” 

He hadn’t remembered how long it had been since he felt so relieved.


It wasn’t when he won BFDI, that’s for sure. If anything, that made him feel empty.


An island. A selection from the twenty contestants there. Hotels, pools, robot servants. Everything he had been wanting for two, whole years.


And yet, it felt like nothing. It felt like nothing compared to her.


She broke the muffing into two using her hands, glancing up at him with a grin that made the past few days disappear. “Thank you, by the way.”


“For what?”


“For staying,” Leafy said, flattening a napkin onto the table. “And for the muffin.”


He huffed out a laugh, head shaking from side to side as he spoke. “You don’t need to thank me, Leafs.” Firey paused for a moment, before adding, “And plus, you deserve something better than the hospital food.”

Leafy smiled. A real, genuine warm smile, without the flowers, without the pain. 

She took a sip of her drink too fast, hot chocolate spilling down the side of the cup and onto her hand.

“Seriously?”

Firey was already pushing napkins toward her, chuckling under his breath. “Two minutes. New record, Leafs.”

“Shut up.”

Leafy leaned down almost immediately, hand reaching out for a napkin.


Firey paused, before handing her one.


She flipped it over in her hands.


And froze.


On the brown, folded sheet, there were a few words.



‘If you’re free on feb 14th

Wanna be my valentine?’



Messy and in dark ink, like someone had pressed too hard. A small doodle of a heart sat to the left of the phrase, that looked like it had been scratched out three times.

She looked up.


And suddenly, Firey had decided that the pavement out the window was the most interesting thing in the world.


“You…” she breathed, her heart doing that stupid little stutter.

He started quickly, words flowing out of his mouth. “You don’t have to say yes or anything,” he stuttered, hands moving animatedly. “I know it’s cheesy. It’s really cheesy actually. I just-”

Leafy watched him go on and on, and one thing echoed in her head.


God, do I love him.

“-If you wanna pretend you didn’t see it, that’s totally-”


“Fireball.”


He stopped, gaze finally lifting to meet hers. Leafy had never felt herself smile so brightly before. 

“You know, you’re really bad at this,” she teased. 

Firey  laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I figured-”

“But yes.”

He blinked. Once. Twice.

“Huh?”

She reached over the table, fingers interlocking with his. “I’d love to be your valentine, dummy.”

Firey froze for half a second. Then grinned so wide it was actually ridiculous. “Wait, actually?”

“Of course.”

“For real?”

“Fireball-”

“Okay, okay, just making sure.”

He tried to play it cool, but the both of them knew he was never great at faking indifference, biting back a smile with stars in his eyes. Firey beamed, squeezing her hand back. “Awesome. Okay, that’s- That’s great.” The sound of silence spread between them, until he added, “And sorry for the napkin thing. I didn’t really have much to work with.”

She laughed again. “You can apologise by helping me clean up this mess.”

“Oh yeah- right.”

Before the two kneeled against the floor, Leafy slipped his napkin into her pocket, folding it carefully.

Firey grabbed a handful of napkins and started patting uselessly at the puddle like he was fighting a forest fire with tissues.

“This is not effective,” he muttered.

“I thought you were trained for these kinds of emergencies,” she said, focused on the spill below them.

“Hey. I deal with fire. This is your department.”

“Oh my tree.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers.

He nudged back.

It turned into a tiny, childish shoving match until the barista cleared their throat from across the café.

“Sorry,” they muttered, almost in sync. 

By the time they finished, the floor was mostly dry. Sticky, sure. But survivable. 

They moved back to the table, both digging in. Firey glanced up for a few moments, Leafy catching it with the corner of her eye. She rolled her eyes playfully.


“You want a bite?”


“Yes, please.”

The two laughed, Firey biting into the muffin and leaving a smudge of raspberry on the side of his face. Leafy burst into laughter, hands on the table as she leaned over to wipe it off with a tissue. 

And for the first time in a long time,

Love felt easy.