Chapter Text
Flos vomitus (more commonly known as Hanahaki disease) is a chronic respiratory infection targeting the lungs, diaphragm, and bronchus.
The disease is characterised by its strange symptomology and biological implausibility. It is seemingly triggered by a perceived feeling of unrequited longing resulting in the growth of various flora, most often some kind of flowering plant, in the inner respiratory system.
The disease works in stages, beginning with lung irritation, decreased stamina, loss of sleep, lack of appetite, nausea, and irritability. As the blooms grow these symptoms worsen causing vomiting, expulsion of flowers often resulting in trachea, larynx, stomach and intestinal damage, sensitivity to bruising, fainting spells, and minor bone density loss. Before progressing into its final terminal stage, resulting in brain fog due to lack of blood oxygen, dysphagia (or difficulty swallowing), and eventually death via suffocation.
There is no known cure, but there are two main treatment paths.
The first is managing the feeling of unrequited longing, often through therapeutic and/or confessional means.
The second is an invasive surgery that results in the eviction of flora from the body that often results in selective amnesia targeting memories of the subject of longing.
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The first few days Flux had assumed he was coming down with the flu. His seatmate had been out for the last week and a half allegedly struggling with it and he had just gone to that party, so it made sense that Flux would have gotten it too. Still, he could handle being sick, especially because it gave him a convenient excuse to skip the next weekly Conspiracy (plus a few) outings after learning Thomas, his best friend, was flirting with Saps, his other best friend.
That he happened to have a life-ruiningly disgusting crush on.
Two weeks ago, at Westhelm’s Halloween rager was the first time he noticed. It was dark and the conspiracy had split up, meaning Flux was functionally alone in a sea of hot, sweaty, drunk people. It wasn’t his idea of fun, but Snowbird had begged them all to go, and who was he to deny the whims of his friends? (He wouldn’t say it aloud, but the real reason he agreed was a certain white haired individual who blew up his phone.)
Flux weaved through the sea of people, trying to find a single corner unoccupied by a couple making out or another person who hated being around people. He headed for the backyard, it was just as full of people, but there was a bit more space for people to spread out, meaning he wouldn’t have to worry about getting beer or some other mixed drink spilled on him. As he approached the door, out of the corner of his eye he saw Thomas talking to someone in the corner. At first glance he couldn’t tell who it was, mostly because people kept passing in front of him, but he managed to see flashes of white hair and a peak of a mole below their eye.
Flux couldn’t tell who Saps was supposed to be dressed as, but he saw the glint of fake piercings on the side of his mouth.
Flux began approaching the two, mostly just to figure out what Saps was dressed as, but stopped short as he watched Saps lean in close to Thomas, whisper something in his ear that made him flush, and snatch the train conductor hat off of his head. Thomas clearly argued with him, jabbing him in the stomach and snatching it back. Saps just laughed, from the way he was turned his hair looked shorter causing Flux a moment of pause, but sure enough, it was Saps.
Flux felt his heart drop into his stomach, a wave of nausea washed over him, and he hurried for the nearest bathroom, emptying the (very small) contents of his stomach into the toilet bowl.
He’d known Saps didn’t like him that way, the two of them had been friends for years with no clear indication of interest. Still, it hurt to know that his two best friends had kept this from him for god knows how long.
He curled into a ball on the floor of the bathroom, groaning. He didn’t care that the floor was probably disgusting, with it being located in a frat house. His stomach hurt and his mind was going a mile a minute.
He let himself wallow for another five minutes, only dragging himself out of there when someone very aggressively knocked on the door. He trudged through the party, barely caring about all the people jostling him around. He finally pushed through, emerging into the backyard and running face first into someone.
“Whoa, watch out,” Saps grabbed his shoulders, “dude, you look rough. How much did you drink?” In his haze, all Flux could do was blink up at Saps.
He considered asking what he and Thomas had been talking about just moments before, but the thought of it made him nauseous all over again.
“Hello? Earth to Flux?” Saps waved a hand in front of his face, sighing when he got no reaction.
“Hey, I’m heading out early. I think Flux got wasted.” He vaguely caught some reply from Schpood, nothing he cared enough to remember, before being tugged back through the door by Saps.
“Come on you lightweight, let’s get you home.” Flux looked between Saps’ hand on his wrist, gently leading him through the crowd, and his face, eyes twinkling with some kind of silent laughter. Flux rolled his eyes, but continued following. Saps didn’t release him once they finally emerged from the crowd, instead slipping his hand down to fully grab Flux’s hand. He gently swung them as he began talking.
“So, why’d you get so drunk?”
“Stressed.”
“Oh yeah, midterms are coming up, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought about it but I really didn’t feel like blacking out with work in the morning.”
“Hm.”
“Schpood kept trying to get me to play beer pong with him, Turntapp, and Spyder. I managed to rope Owo in to take my place somehow.”
Flux watched Saps talk, at some point he must have switched costumes, trading out whatever emo guy he’d been dressed as for some kind of mad scientist. He considered asking when he had the time, but assumed it was sometime during his trip to the restroom. He shrugged, turning and staring at the stars as they walked.
He chalked the slight irritation in his throat the next day as a result of hangover mixed with the after effects of throwing up the contents of a stomach subsisting on dining hall food and whatever was in the Westhelm mystery punch, ignoring the fact he hadn’t drunk much of anything at all.
——-
He finally considered something worse was at play when the irritation hadn’t died down after a month. First he’d assumed it was a cold, then a persistent flu, then he considered an ear or sinus infection, but at some point the irritation tipped over from just being annoying to genuinely concerning. Enough he finally decided to drag himself to the on campus urgent care. He expected them to just hand him a bag of overpriced lozenges and tell him to fix his sleep schedule (something that would never happen) and send him on his way. Instead, they listened to his breathing before ordering an emergency x-ray. Originally he assumed they were going to tell him it was some kind of pneumonia, it would have explained his shortness of breath accompanying the irritation. Instead, the doctor came back in, shut the door and took a deep breath.
“I’m glad you didn’t wait to come to us,”
Uh-oh.
He sat down behind his desk, folding his hands together, “How much do you know about Hanahaki?”
Flux froze, “um,, some? My dad had it.” He paused, “waitwaitwait, do I have it? That doesn’t make any sense, I’m not in love with anyone-”
“Hanahaki isn’t fully understood, but the misconception that it only blooms from love is very common. It’s assumed it picks up on the feeling of unrequited longing, which is not the same as love. Some people have developed it for people they cannot possibly ‘love’. Celebrities, models, porn actors, that sort of thing.”
“Delusional people you mean?”
The doctor laughed, although there was no humor to it, “If that’s how you want to look at it, sure. Anyway, you’re still in the very early stages. I’m assuming from your reaction you had no idea?”
He shook his head.
“Good, so that means you haven’t had any episodes of vomiting flowers. For now I’d say monitor your symptoms, write down what they are and when they occur. Try to reduce the time spent around the object of your affection. Drink warm soothing teas, do breathing exercises. It looks like you don’t spend much time working out—”
Rude.
“— so I’d advise looking into low impact cardio to try and increase your stamina, this will help slow the progression of the disease.” He typed something up on his computer, “You’ll probably start experiencing nausea, headaches, and trouble sleeping, so I recommend taking melatonin and anti-emetics like pepto-bismol. Things like eating lighter, warm dishes like soups are also advised.”
“Wait, what about the surgery?” Flux gripped the edges of his chair, “Isn’t that an option?”
“We aren’t sure until there’s been a larger development. Right now all we can do is ease the symptoms until the flowers actually start appearing. Come back when you cough something up, we can talk more about medications and treatment options then. I’d also advise considering the idea of if the affection is reciprocated.”
He thought back to Saps and Thomas at the Halloween party, throat tightening. He coughed a few times, frowning.
“It isn’t.”
The doctor frowned, handing him a cup of water, but otherwise stayed quiet.
“I’ll go print out a preliminary treatment plan, I can meet you out front. Please call to schedule a follow up if there are any developments.” He passed Flux, patting him on the shoulder, leaving and shutting the door behind him.
Flux sat frozen in his chair for a while, putting his head in his hands. If having a crush wasn’t embarrassing enough, he’d somehow stooped into absolute lameass territory by getting ‘I want someone who doesn’t want me’ disease.
Just wonderful.