Chapter Text
The harsh white light of the bathroom was something that Kiroku had gotten used to. It shone from above, illuminating the room as he hunched over the basket again. He couldn’t remember how many times he had repeated this behavior, hacking up flowers from his throat into the bin. The stems scratched and left his voice sore for days, leaving people to question it. He had tried to brush it off, perhaps relying on the common cold to lie for a moment, but he knew how perceptive some of his friends were. He knew he’d be found out soon, he didn’t want to admit it just yet. Maybe a part of him wanted to latch onto his feelings still. Maybe he had grown used to the feeling of yellow spider lily petals in his throat. Maybe he wished to feel the stinging pain for a little while longer.
AGCK–! Egchk ehck ack!
Kiroku hacks up the petals of an orange blossom. They don’t even look orange, it’s a white flower stained with pricks of red from his throat. Even though Nagi explained to him that they came from orange trees, he never really understood why. During hazy times like these when he feels like he can barely breathe, he wished it had a different name. One that was more fitting for its condition. He heard the familiar voices of his imaginary friends begin to pop up, hearing them swirl inside his head.
“Relax, Kiroku. It’ll be fine. You’ve done this before, it’s nothing new.”
“Uuu … it’s so late … we should go back to beeeeeed ssu …”
“He can’t have a coughing fit anywhere elSE. He doesn’t want his family to know, or his roommates, or anybody basicalLY.”
“Nanaki was informed of his … condition, was he not?”
“He does, but he’s sworn to secrecy! He promised Kiroku that he wouldn’t tell anyone!”
“You really think he’ll keep that to himseLF?”
“I’m sure he would!”
“Hehehehe, all of this is caused by some stuuupid~ feelings!”
Kiroku chimed up for the first time since he got to the bathroom. He raised his head and wiped the blood from his lips onto the cuff of his sleeve, rebutting against Pinfu.
“They’re not stupid,” he muttered.
Pinfu replied with their signature laugh, “Gyahaha! Of course they areeee~! They have you trying to avoid anyone seeing you in such a paaaathetic state! If not, you would’ve confessed already!”
“Why hasn’t he done that alreaDY? It’d be easier to bear heartbreak than riskin’ his health like THIS,” Dewawa questioned.
Ignoring the obvious answer, KB spoke to him. “Kiroku, I’m sure he would understand your feelings,” they comforted, “You wished to be loved by him as well though, don’t you?”
“Even if he doesn’t feel the same, it’s best to break off these feelings ASAP! You could get seriously hurt one of these days! How long has he been doing this?” Rouzel asked everyone.
The room went silent for a few beats. For what he had asked Nanaki in hushed tones, letting him know the truth about the odd stems riddled with small red stains sticking out of his waste basket, he knew he had hanahaki disease for a while. A few months, maybe, he never wanted to keep track of it. From his own research as well, he knew about the flowers that grew from his lungs, clogging his airways, tearing apart at him so they could escape and live in his ribs. Hanahaki is known to be destructive of the subject’s body, leaving the person weaker day by day. Sometimes, he wished that he didn’t have to be subjected to this kind of torture. Moments where he thought of Akuta’s smile or his energy that were quickly followed by a coughing fit.
“I don’t … keep track of it. Makes me … worry too much,” Kiroku mentioned.
“To my knowledge, 6 months.”
“6 whole fucking monTHS!? He’s been damaging his health for half a yeAR!”
“Well, when you put it like that …”
“Stuuuu~pid feelings, being dragged around for half a yeeeee~ar!”
“We should’ve just forced him a–”
“–We can’t force that out of him! It’s something he has to do on his–”
“–These feelings are sensitive to him. Maybe it is best if he–”
“–Stuuupid, stuuuuupid, stuuuuuuu~pid–”
“… So noisy …”
He heard the voices overlap and begin to bicker with each other one by one. He wanted to cover his ears and tell them to shut up, but he felt like he could barely even breathe. He took a deep breath in, let that breath go, and felt the familiar itch of a cough taunt his throat. He hacked up a few more petals, letting them fall into the basket as he spat them out. He felt his breathing ease for a moment, the flowers in his lungs being slowly emptied.
He thought about the feelings behind the flowers for a second, thinking about how they turned into something he wanted to keep to himself, not even remembering when they even formed. He noticed it for the first time after Day2 crowded around together as the upload for “The Night Sky’s Love Call” ticked off one percent at a time. He saw the way everyone was so happy, the midnight cheers filling the room. He noticed everyone's smiles and relief on their faces, but he especially noticed how he looked as well. He noticed how bright his smile appeared as he hugged the lead actor, the bags under his eyes after staying up late, and how his eyes shined like the prettiest gemstone he had ever seen. He wanted to treasure it for just a bit longer, to hold onto them in his head, where only his imaginary friends and himself would know. The same feelings made him begin sneezing petals only a few weeks later.
He was the first to point them out, and he was the first one to advocate for him when his condition had gotten worse. Kiroku looks at the red, the white and the orange in the basket. He can barely stand to see the colors mix now. He coughs again, the buds tickle his throat and have him take a sharp breath in. All he wants is to breathe easy for one day again. He suspects that he won’t be getting it anytime soon.
“ … Kiroku?” A familiar voice calls out to him.
Shit. God, oh god, why now?!
He scrambles to his feet, turning on the tap and letting the water run. He looks back at his reflection and sees his bangs being held up by a hair clip, the blood sticking to his lips. It reminded him of when Akuta would get a nosebleed, seeing it drip down from his nose until his tongue tasted a metallic flavor, having him scramble to look for a napkin. The cuffs of his sweater are riddled in old and new dark red stains, as he tries to hide his crime. He swishes some water in his mouth and spits it out quickly to get rid of the bitter taste. He tries and uses his thumbs as he roughly wipes away the dried blood, doing his best to fix the errors his lungs have done to him. He takes out the hairclip and looks at himself once more, forcing his body to relax to seem somewhat normal.
“Kiroku, are you doin’ alright?” The voice calls out to him once more. He goes to unlock the door as he sees him standing in front of it. The source of the flowers. His dear friend and roommate, Akuta.
“Yes … I’ve been … doing fine.” He answers, trying to live up to his own words. A silence bubbles between them as the boy across from him struggles on what to say.
“I mean, I just woke up and saw you weren’t in your bed so I was worried where you were. I mean, you could’ve been abducted by aliens!”
Kiroku smiles at this line, thinking about how Akuta seems to always turn it around during times like these. “No aliens … yet. Just a … stomach bug.” He lies.
“That’s good– well, not like that! It’s good that it’s nothing that serious, like hanahaki!”
“Yeah … I wouldn’t ever … wanna have … that.”
“It’s really scary from what I’ve heard from Nanaki! Flowers in your lungs, eugh, it sounds like a good plot for a movie though!”
“Maybe … you’ll make … a film about it … one day.”
“Psh, ma~ybe! I’d wanna see it though so I’d know how to make the effects for it! I heard rumors that, like, people throw up different kinds of flowers depending on their feelings. It has something to do with the ways flowers speak, right?”
”Floriography … Hachinoya knows … a lot about it.”
“Ooo! I see, I see! Y’ think he’d help me choose some flowers people would spew up?”
“Maybe … he wouldn’t mind … lending some as well.”
“That sounds great! I can see it already in my head, a girl who has a secret crush on someone in her school and begins sneezing flowers, but then she gets another crush on someone else and has to deal with them both at the same time! Who will she choose…”
“...Hehehe.”
He couldn’t help but smile at the ideas Akuta had sometimes. He couldn’t help but see the way he had such a positive outlook on the world and simply just … admire it. He’d tried to push aside his feelings for Akuta aside, trying to bury them deep within his chest. Perhaps the disease would go away on its own if he fell out of love with him. But then Akuta would smile, or get too close to him, or praise his artwork again and then feelings would bloom again in his chest – along with orange blossoms, spider lilies, and an assortment of damming flora. He couldn’t help his feelings as they grew and grew, buds sprouting and then vegetating and then flowering in his ribs, where he keeps all of his feelings safe. He had weighed the options a while ago. Between explaining why he’s had Hanahaki disease for months to him, or letting the bronchioles in his lungs mix with stems, he had decided long ago he would rather let the flowers take over him, bouquet by bouquet, until he was nothing.
“Hey, whazzat thing in the ba…sket.” The orange haired boy asked, feeling his voice mumble the last few syllables. Kiroku didn’t want to look over to the basket. He knew well what was in it. He kept his eye on him, trying to see if he could play dumb.
“Wh-what thing?” He stammered over. He glanced over to the basket, seeing an orange blossom hang over the top of it. The blood decorating it made it perfectly clear to both of them what was going on. Akuta darted his eyes back between both Kiroku and the basket before dreadfully realizing the circumstances.
“Kiroku. You have hanahaki disease?”
“--! No … I-I don’t–”
“There’s blood on your face. There’s a flower hanging outside the basket. The times you couldn’t sing and those times at night you left like this, and the way you look way paler now.” He pointed out plainly. Of course he noticed it. Of course he did, why did Kiroku think he could be free for this long?
“Do you know how many months?”
“N-Not that long– … I haven’t kept track.”
“That’s … that’s reasonable. I wouldn’t wanna keep track of how long I've been sick as well! It’d just make me sadder anyways.”
“Yeah.”
The air got thick with tension as he kept on looking towards the basket with curiosity. He noticed how his eyes widened at first, then shrank back to normal. He saw the shell Akuta uses to protect himself break for a moment as he saw a hazy feeling. Nothing like anger or fear, but something more painful. He knew he saw a deep pain behind his eyes, but he couldn’t place why this would hurt him. Akuta knew he was sick for a while, and that he wasn’t feeling much better. Maybe he felt sympathy for how ill he was? As the different ideas began to swirl in his head, he heard Akuta chip in again.
“I … I’ll head back to the dorms! In the morning, I'll ask Yukikaze if he can make some tea in the morning to help with your stomach ache, okay?”
“Okay then. … Thank you, Isotake. You’ve been … really concerned … with me.”
“Of course! That’s what friends are for! I’d wrangle those flowers outta your lungs if I could!”
“Mhm … I'm sure … you’ll find a way … one day.”
Deawa broke into their conversation with a sarcastic tone, “Well there’s one way he COULD.”
“Sh-Shut up!” Kiroku snapped back to his imaginary friend. “ … Ignore him.” He tried to brush it off, looking back towards Akuta.
“A-Alright. When you feel better, head back. Don’t be gone for too long, me n’ Nanaki will miss you, alright?”
“Okay … can you close … the door please?”
“Yeah! G-Good night Kiroku!”
“Good night, Isotake.”
Kiroku stood still after he left, feeling that familiar churn in his stomach. The feelings of butterflies weren’t nothing new to him. He thought about how cute he looked with his messy hair, how adorable it was to see him fuss over him, and his sleepy voice as he wished him good night. He smiled as he dreamed of him for a second, thinking about Akuta taking care of him if he ever got sick. A part of him wanted to see him worried for him, checking on him constantly and making sure he’s eating enough. Another part of him wanted to see him with a blush on his face, stumbling over his words and trying to avoid a nosebleed. He wanted to head to an amusement park with him, and give him chocolate for valentines day, and cuddle with him in the winter. No matter the scenario, all parts of Kiroku were in love with Akuta …not even his own failing body could hide that simple fact – the vegetation in his lungs reminded him of it every single day.
He giggled to himself, taking in the good feelings of having a crush. This was something that he enjoyed out of all the pain and suffering. The sensation of thinking how cute Akuta was, how soft his lips would be if he ever kissed them, the possibility that maybe he was in love with him as well. It made him feel amazing, it made everything worth it even if it lasted only a moment.
He felt a familiar scratch in his throat as he leaned over the sink in an instant. As he began to cough, it turned more violent with each sound that escaped. Before he knew it, his mouth unfurled a flower into the sink. He didn't have much time to question it before he felt the need to cough again. This time, it was much more deep seated in his chest. The sound became irritating to his ears as he hacked another flower up, like a cat hacking up a hairball.
He looked at the spider lily in the sink, the same yellow petals from earlier were more smushed together, drops of red laying on top of it. What was different from other times was that it had more stems. The flower seemed more complete, instead of just the top of it appearing or simply the petals. It was dotted in his blood from his throat, the flowers scratching at it making him feel terrible, like he could barely speak. God, he must’ve had a raspy voice earlier too, didn’t he? Did Akuta notice that as well? And what was with that look in his eye for a moment? He seemed … hurt? Why did it even hurt him?
He thought back to their conversation not too long ago, and considered what he said again. He didn’t say anything glaringly wrong, but– oh. Oh my god, of course he was hurt! He never told him he had hanahaki disease! He must’ve been worrying about what was wrong with him for months, and then he realized it was something as big as hanahaki. He was acting like a terrible friend, and what if Nanaki told him? He didn't think Nanaki would tell anyone else, but the way he acted when Akuta had a “girlfriend” made him nervous. He knows he’s not the kind of person to kiss and tell, so he wouldn’t have told Akuta about his condition. But Akuta is perceptive. Maybe he’s known for a while, and it weighed on his mind, and, and–
“Kiroku, you look even more sick. Are you alright?” Rouzel asked him, breaking his own chain of thoughts.
He could only mutter out a weak, “Uuu … Akuta must hate me,” as he ran the tap again. He moved the flowers from out of the sink into the trash can, feeling like they were taunting him. Each petal, each drop of blood, each broken stem felt like it was looking back at him and whispering about how he hadn't even planned to confess his love. He washed away the blood in the sink and turned the water off as his head filled with the sounds of his imaginary friends once more.
“Akuta does not hold any contempt for you. In fact, he is perturbed when it comes to your state. He constantly observes you during these late hours, and has repeatedly defended you in situations where your secret would have been exposed to others. Methinks he felt appalled learning of the source of your issues. He is attempting to succor you, I cannot conclude that he holds any contempt for you at all.” KB assured him.
Dewawa jutted in, “Maybe you just need to confess to him already and stop being a cowaRD,”
“Hehehe, I'd wanna hoooo~ld onto my feelings longer if a pretty boy was worrying over me tooo~!”
“It’s not bad that he wants to hide his feelings a bit longer–”
“--It’s been 6 monTHS! You think his body can take it much longER? He can be as scared of rejection all he wants, but that disease will kill him sooner or latER,”
“He took that into consideration when researching! The fatality rate is low!”
“Yeah, on averAGE. The quicker it develops, the more harmful, and he’s coughing up stems alreaDY. The way it’s going, he might have to be hospitalized in a few MONTHS.”
. . . . .
“It’s TRUE. His family’s gonna know, the rest of his friends will know, even Akuta will KNOW.”
“Maybe … Maybe we should work on that bit by bit.”
He looked at his reflection again in the mirror. Glancing over his face, he took in the reality of the situation. Without confessing, he’d die. As in, pass away, dying. He hasn’t truly thought about the idea of him dying at 17.
He imagined what his funeral would be like as he laid in a casket in an unfamiliar suit. A fear began to set in his head as he vividly saw the pained expressions on everyone in the room, how his family, friends and Akuta will know he died because of a love he was too afraid to express.
“I … I don’t wanna die.”
“Then you gotta prepare a confessION. It only goes away by informing the other person, no matter what WAY.”
“Then … then I'll … start preparing one.”
He heard the cheers of all of his imaginary friends as he smiled to himself in relief. He turned off the light and exited the bathroom, making his way back to his dorm room. As he opened the door, he was relieved to see Nanaki still asleep. As he settled into bed, holding a pillow tight to his chest, he began to let his eyes rest as drowsiness took over him. The last thing he heard was quiet, encouraging words from Ripris as he fell asleep. He knew he would need it as he prepared to conquer his biggest fear and sweetest torment– confessing to his best friend.