Chapter Text
It had started with a lump in Karamatsu’s throat. Then a feeling of wanting to clear his throat all the time, before it passed on to coughing. Not all the time, but a lot. Just enough for him to be annoyed by it.
A week passed like that before the first petal appeared. Karamatsu had been putting on his jacket after he and Osomatsu had gone out drinking and had just noticed how his dear brothers had left without him.
(He doesn’t care enough to wait.)
Karamatsu then felt how he suddenly needed to desperately cough and as he did, he found a petal in his hand. It was a pretty tiny one, a silky red rose petal, barely bigger than his pinkie. Karamatsu cleared his throat and tossed it away, figuring it was probably just something he had mistakenly eaten earlier with his food and that it had gotten stuck in his throat. He figured beautiful things naturally stuck together.
Then he coughed up two more later that evening, when Ichimatsu stepped on his magazine without even sparing Karamatsu a second glance. This time the petals were purple, like catmint ones and Karamatsu had been so perplexed about it that he had forgotten about the magazine, until he had spotted Jyushimatsu using one of his tank tops to clean his bat, methodically scrubbing the bat with it. And then he had toppled over, breaking out in a violent cough fit, enough for the rest to yell at him to keep it down, but then turned back to what they were doing before they could notice the yellow sunflower petals pouring out from the second brother’s mouth.
(He doesn’t even care enough to apologize.)
(He doesn’t even care enough to ask.)
And Karamatsu wasn’t an idiot, he figured there was something weird going on. For a moment he fantasized that perhaps it was maybe his inner beauty that had gotten so big that it was pouring out of him, but when he told Choromatsu about this theory, the third brother laughed so hard that he fell off his chair, so Karamatsu decided to keep his mouth shut. At least after he had wiped some lime green orchid petals away from his lips. “Perhaps it’s a crime a quilty guy like me has to bear.”
(He doesn’t care enough to be worried.)
After that, the coughing had only gotten worse and soon Karamatsu felt how he was constantly fighting back coughing fits and lumps in his throat. He tried to drink a lot of hot tea, cutting down on food that make your throat dry, even going as far as asking Dekapan for some medicine, but the other only laughed at him, complimenting him for such a great magic trick. He tried to talk to his brothers too, but they laughed at him and Todomatsu only rolled his eyes and sighed theatrically and called Karamatsu “a major drama queen” when Karamatsu showed him the dozen of pink azalea petals he had coughed up.
(He doesn’t care enough to believe you.)
Still, Karamatsu thought positively about it, figuring it was like a nasty cold, something that would pass eventually if you just rested up. So he kept up his cool guy image, not wanting to worry his family about it, going along with the idea that this was just a new “image thing” he was going with, a way to cover up the cold he had.
But Karamatsu could feel how it was affecting his appetite and condition. He had to fight getting food down, fight it past that lump in his throat. He got exhausted from walking to the store and even striking a pose for a long time made his muscles protest. His brother had gotten tired of his coughing and had exiled him to the closet, where he now slept fitfully on blankets and clothes, waking up every now and then to cough up more petals.
He had started to spend the days wandering the city, with the aid of a bike he had borrowed from Hatabou, not wanting to disturb his brothers with his coughing. He found out it was easier for him to breathe when he was alone, the coughing less persistent when he was by himself.
And on one of the evening when he had gotten back home late, the sun already setting behind his back, Karamatsu had paused at the door, looking at his family who had sat down to eat. He saw how they’re all looking happy, Jyushimatsu excitingly explaining something and how the whole family then burst out in laughter. How there was no extra plate laid out for him. How no one was noticing him standing there at the door.
(They don’t care enough to miss you.)
Karamatsu felt how he couldn’t breath and he barely had time to rush out of the room and shut the door before he had to sink down to the floor, clawing at his throat, his chest heaving in vain and his eyes widening and watering in horror as he suddenly couldn’t breathe, like the air in his lungs had just dissappeared.
Then he was spewing out petals, and in the faint light from the outside he could make out different colors. Petals of roses, azaleas, orchids, sunflowers, irises and many more he couldn’t even name. Small ones, small enough he had earlier not even felt bad about. But also big, glossy ones, big enough that he was gagging just looking at them. He had to support his upper body with one hand on the floor, as more petals kept pouring out, leaving him barely enough time in between to breathe even the slightest. The other he kept clutched to his chest, as a burning, stabbing sensation raked through his body.
(They don’t care about you.)
After a while he couldn’t even make out the petals anymore, his eyes so blurred by the stinging tears that all he could see was a pile getting bigger in front of him and covering his hand.
(They don’t need you.)
And then Karamatsu felt how his world tipped sideways, the petals clogging up in his mouth as he unconsciously clenched his teeth. For a moment Karamatsu played with the idea of keeping his mouth closed, wondering what would happened if he did, but then he couldn’t stop himself from coughing, spewing more petals out.
Then, as his consciousness slipped, he felt vibrations all around him and loud voices shouting his name. At least Karamatsu thought it sounded like that. He tried to smile and open his mouth to tell them he was okay, but his world slipped into black before he had the chance.
(Perhaps it’s for the best.)
(Maybe this way is the best for us all.)