Archive of Our Own

Seonghwa stared at his best friend, Hongjoong sitting across from him, calmly sipping his iced Americano as though they were having nothing more than an ordinary conversation.

Completely clueless.

Clueless to the way Seonghwa’s heart was quietly shattering inside his chest in real time.

Clueless to the way his fingers had tightened around the edge of the table beneath them, or how his mind had gone completely blank for a few unbearable seconds.

“Abroad?!”

The word escaped him louder than intended.

His eyebrows knitted together as he stared at Hongjoong, disbelief written plainly across his face.

Hongjoong only blinked at him over the rim of his cup before lowering it back onto the table.

“Why?”

His own eyebrows furrowed, a small frown forming at Seonghwa’s accusing tone.

“What?”

“Abroad?” Seonghwa repeated, as though saying it again might somehow make the answer sound less horrifying.

Hongjoong shrugged, seemingly unable to understand what had gotten into him.

“Why not?”

He leaned back in his seat, looking almost genuinely puzzled by Seonghwa’s reaction.

“What would I possibly do in such a conservative country?”

There was a brief pause before the corner of his mouth curled upward.

“Do you like it that much?”

He added the last part in playful mockery, his tone deliberately teasing.

As though this were funny.

As though Seonghwa’s entire world hadn’t just tilted dangerously off its axis.

The younger man coughed, feeling his throat tighten painfully. His vocal cords seemed to scrape against one another, rough and raw as though they had suddenly been turned to sandpaper.

He drew in a deep breath through his nose, desperately fighting back the cry that threatened to escape right then and there.

“And where would you go?” he asked, forcing his voice to remain steady. “When?”

He tried to suppress the miserable tremble of his lips, pressing them together until they almost hurt.

“Hm?”

Hongjoong absently chewed at his straw, his gaze drifting upward as he seriously considered the question.

“America? Europe?”

He listed the possibilities as nonchalantly as if they were nothing more than destinations on a vacation itinerary.

“Who cares?”

Hongjoong shrugged.

“Anywhere else would be better. They have so many music companies there. Companies that would actually accept my lyrics and give me the creative freedom I want.”

Seonghwa opened his mouth, ready to argue.

Ready to tell him that there had to be another way. That he didn’t have to go that far. That things could change. That he could find somewhere here that would give him what he wanted.

But the argument died on his tongue.

Because Hongjoong was right.

And Seonghwa knew it.

His mind betrayed him with memories of a much younger Hongjoong, hunched over his producing equipment from dusk until dawn. The glow of the monitor illuminating his tired face as he worked relentlessly, replaying the same sections over and over again.

Practicing.

Learning.

Creating.

Trying to become the best version of himself for the one thing that had always managed to ignite a fire in his chest.

Music.

Seonghwa slowly slumped back into his seat.

He forced himself to breathe.

Forced himself to smile.

Forced himself to be supportive.

Because this was what Hongjoong had always wanted.

To make music freely.

To write what he wanted to write without having to compromise the passion that had consumed him for years simply to satisfy society’s strange and suffocating standards.

Seonghwa couldn’t be the person who asked him to give that up.

Not when he’d watched him fight so hard for it.

“I mean, yeah.”

He rolled his eyes, forcing a teasing edge into his voice.

Then he blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Far more times than necessary.

Anything to stop the tears gathering in his eyes from spilling over.

Because there was no way in hell he was going to start crying in front of Hongjoong.

Not when he would then have to embarrassingly confess his undying love for his dense best friend.

Absolutely not.

“When, though?”

Seonghwa repeated the question, bringing it up again with far more urgency than he would have liked.

Hongjoong had probably already forgotten that he’d asked.

Or perhaps he simply hadn’t realized how desperately Seonghwa needed an answer.

“After I graduate, obviously.”

Hongjoong sounded almost amused by the question, as though the answer should have been obvious.

“I need that paper to be eligible to work, no matter the fact that I’d leave yesterday if I had the chance to.”

He gave a small shrug, completely unbothered by the thought.

Seonghwa inhaled sharply again.

The back of his throat prickled, itchy and raw, and he swallowed hard, forcing down his saliva in an attempt to make the sensation disappear.

It didn’t.

Neither did the growing panic in his chest.

“So soon?”

The words came out quieter than he intended.

His eyes widened slightly as he stared at his friend.

“Joong, we graduate in like three weeks!”

Three weeks.

That was all.

Three weeks until the graduation ceremony.

Three weeks until Hongjoong could finally take that certificate, pack his things, and leave.

Three weeks until Seonghwa’s entire carefully constructed world could change without warning.

“Why are you acting like you didn’t know that?”

Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed, his expression shifting as his tone betrayed the faint hurt Seonghwa had caused with his negative reaction.

“I’ve been saying that for years.”

He recoiled slightly, placing his cup down on the table with more force than necessary.

The sound made Seonghwa flinch.

Because back then, it was only an idea.

Seonghwa completed the sentence silently, keeping the words locked behind his teeth.

Back then, Hongjoong leaving had always belonged to some distant, hypothetical future. Something they could talk about over coffee, something they could joke about and imagine without having to actually confront the possibility of it happening.

It had never felt real.

Not until now.

But Seonghwa couldn’t tell him that.

Not when Hongjoong already looked hurt.

“Because…”

He tried, searching desperately for an explanation that wouldn’t reveal too much.

“I just felt like it was so soon.”

His voice softened.

“Of course I want you to follow your dreams.”

Seonghwa leaned forward across the table, carefully covering Hongjoong’s curled fingers with his own.

“Don’t get angry at me, Joong.”

His thumb brushed gently over the back of his friend’s hand.

“This just feels like… like a hi-bye situation for me.”

He attempted a small smile, even though it felt painfully fragile.

“I just need some time to digest it, okay?”

His fingers tightened ever so slightly around Hongjoong’s.

“I promise I’ll be the first one to escort you out.”

That finally seemed to ease something in Hongjoong.

He sighed through puffed cheeks, his shoulders relaxing as his fingers slowly uncurling beneath Seonghwa’s hand.

Then, instead of pulling away, he turned his palm upward and wrapped his fingers around Seonghwa’s soft hand.

The gesture was so familiar.

So warm.

So painfully ordinary.

“I’m sorry.”

Hongjoong’s lips pushed into a small pout.

“You know I love you, right?”

Seonghwa’s heart clenched.

Of course he knew.

That was the problem.

Oh, how sweet the pain was.

➿

Seonghwa let out a shaky sigh of relief when the bus doors finally closed.

He stood there for another moment, forcing himself to keep the smile on his face as he raised a hand and waved Hongjoong goodbye through the window.

Hongjoong waved back.

Then the bus began to pull away.

Seonghwa kept his hand raised until the vehicle disappeared from his sight.

Only then did his smile finally collapse.

A ragged breath escaped him.

Then another.

His chest began to heave as the tears he’d spent the entire afternoon suppressing came rushing back all at once.

This time, he let them fall.

He bent forward slightly, planting both hands against his knees as his head dropped between his shoulders. His breathing turned uneven, each inhale catching painfully in his throat.

He bit down hard on his lower lip, desperate to keep any sound from escaping.

Not here.

Not with all these people around him.

He couldn’t break down in the middle of the street.

So he stayed quiet, letting the tears drip onto the pavement while he fought to regain control of his breathing.

After a few moments, he straightened.

He wiped hurriedly at his cheeks, took one last shaky breath, and turned sharply on his heels.

Then he started walking.

Fast.

Almost pacing toward Wooyoung’s apartment, his steps becoming quicker with every block.

Because Wooyoung was the only person who knew.

The only person Seonghwa had ever trusted with the truth about his feelings for Hongjoong.

And, as far as Seonghwa was concerned, the only person who would ever know.

When the apartment complex finally came into sight, Seonghwa could feel the tears falling faster than before.

His heart pounded violently against his ribs, each beat seeming to climb higher into his throat.

He didn’t hesitate.

The moment he reached the building, he climbed the stairs two at a time, barely registering the familiar hallway around him.

Once he reached the door, he knocked.

Then again.

And before he could even think about what he was going to say, he let his forehead fall against the doorframe, his eyes squeezing shut as another shaky breath left him.

The door opened almost immediately.

“Seonghwa—”

Wooyoung greeted him with the bright smile he always wore when opening the door to his best friend.

But the smile lasted all of two seconds.

His expression fell.

His eyes widened as he took in Seonghwa’s tear-streaked face, reddened eyes, and trembling lips.

“What the fuck, Hwa?”

Pure shock colored his voice.

“Why are you crying?”

Wooyoung didn’t even wait for an answer.

He immediately reached forward, grabbed a fistful of the taller man’s jacket, and yanked him inside.

“Get in here.”

Seonghwa’s shoulders trembled violently as he sniffled, struggling to catch his breath between sobs.

“Hongjoong…”

The name came out as a miserable wail.

He leaned into Wooyoung without another thought, burying his face against the younger man’s shoulder as though simply being near him was enough to keep him from completely falling apart.

“Babes…”

Wooyoung sighed, though there was no annoyance in it.

“You’re gonna have to tell me more than that.”

His arms tightened around Seonghwa anyway, one hand rubbing slowly up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him.

“What happened?”

“He’s leaving.”

Seonghwa finally managed to choke out the words before stumbling toward the sofa.

He practically threw his entire weight onto it, collapsing into the cushions as another sob shook through his chest.

Wooyoung stared at him.

“Where?”

“I don’t know—”

Seonghwa flailed one hand helplessly through the air.

“Abroad.”

“Now?”

“Basically.”

Seonghwa nodded miserably, wiping at his wet cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket.

“After gra—”

His voice broke.

He swallowed and tried again, his throat raw from crying.

“Right after graduation.”

The last words came out as little more than a rasp.

Wooyoung pressed his lips together, his expression twisting with sympathy before he lowered himself beside Seonghwa.

He gently patted the older man’s back.

“Oh, Seonghwa…”

His shoulders slumped.

It hurt seeing his usually bright, bubbly friend reduced to this—a trembling, sobbing mess barely able to catch his breath.

Seonghwa shook violently, another series of sobs tearing through him until his breathing became completely uneven.

Then the sobs turned into a harsh coughing fit.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened.

“Hwa—”

He immediately grabbed Seonghwa by the shoulders and helped pull him upright, patting his back more urgently.

“Easy, Hwa…”

Seonghwa coughed again, doubling over.

“Breathe. Slowly.”

Wooyoung rubbed firmly between his shoulder blades.

“You’re going to vomit—”

He didn’t even get to finish.

Seonghwa gagged.

Wooyoung recoiled instinctively.

“Okay.”

He blinked.

“We’re vomiting.”

Without wasting another second, Wooyoung hooked an arm around Seonghwa and guided him toward the bathroom, keeping a steady hand on his back as the older stumbled along beside him.

Seonghwa dropped to his knees in front of the toilet bowl, barely managing to brace himself against the seat before another wave of nausea hit him.

He pushed his head forward, gagging harshly as his stomach contracted.

Once.

Nothing.

He gagged again, harder this time, until the lump lodged painfully in his throat finally forced its way out.

Seonghwa remained there for a moment, breathing heavily.

It took him at least two tries before he could finally expel whatever had been caught in his throat.

He sucked in a long, choking breath afterward, the sudden relief making his shoulders sag.

“There…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to steady himself.

Then Wooyoung gasped.

Seonghwa’s eyes slowly opened.

He turned his head toward him, confusion immediately settling across his exhausted face.

“What?”

His brows furrowed.

Wooyoung didn’t answer.

“Hwa…”

His voice came out strained.

His eyes were wide as they dropped toward the toilet bowl.

Seonghwa followed his line of sight.

And then his heart stopped.

Floating quietly in the water, instead of the remains of the dinner he’d assumed he’d just vomited, was a single white flower petal.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

Seonghwa stared at it.

A flower petal.

In the toilet.

His mind struggled to make sense of what he was looking at.

He slowly lifted the back of his hand to his mouth, wiping across his wet lips.

Then he froze.

There was blood smeared across his skin.

His eyes widened.

His breathing caught.

“What…”

His hand began to tremble.

The panic that had already been clawing its way through his chest suddenly intensified, swallowing every other thought.

He stared between the blood on his hand and the small white petal floating below.

And for the first time that evening, Seonghwa’s heartbreak was replaced by something far more terrifying.

“There’s no way!”

Wooyoung’s voice snapped through the bathroom.

He abruptly dropped down onto the floor beside Seonghwa, staring at the toilet bowl as though refusing to believe what was sitting in front of them.

Seonghwa blinked at him.

The sudden change in Wooyoung’s tone only added to his confusion.

He turned fully toward the younger man, his brows furrowing.

“What do you mean?”

The words came out as a hiss, his already raw throat making them sound harsher than intended.

Wooyoung finally looked at him.

“Don’t you know this?”

He tilted his head, his expression almost incredulous—as if Seonghwa was the strange one for not understanding what was happening.

Seonghwa stared at him for a beat.

Then his frown deepened.

“Was I supposed to?” he snapped back.

Because apparently, crying his eyes out over his best friend leaving the country wasn’t enough for one evening.

Now he was also expected to recognize mysterious flower petals floating in his vomit, too.

“It’s—”

Wooyoung stopped himself.

“Fuck, what was this called?”

He pressed his palm against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut as he rummaged through the archives of his memory.

Seonghwa stared at him.

“It has a name?”

His eyes widened in disbelief.

Then he lifted one hand, waving it vaguely as another thought occurred to him.

“No, wait.”

His brows knitted together.

“It’s supposed to exist?”

The question came out before he could stop himself, and for the first time since leaving Hongjoong behind, his mind was distracted by something other than the ache in his chest.

Wooyoung sighed.

“Yes!”

He dropped his hand from his forehead, looking increasingly frustrated by Seonghwa’s confusion.

“It’s one of those rare diseases that people wonder if they actually exist.”

He waved one hand in a vague circular motion, as though that explanation should have been enough to make everything click.

Seonghwa only stared at him.

His confusion deepened.

“That doesn’t exactly explain anything.”

Wooyoung sighed, his expression sharpening with determination.

He reached forward and flushed the toilet, watching the petal disappear beneath the rushing water.

“Okay.”

He pushed himself to his feet and held a hand out toward Seonghwa.

“Come on.”

Seonghwa stared at it for a moment before reluctantly taking it.

Wooyoung pulled him upright, steadying him when his legs wobbled beneath him.

“We have to search this.”

He was already talking over his shoulder as he led Seonghwa out of the bathroom.

“It does exist. I’m not making this up, I swear.”

He glanced back at Seonghwa, catching the older man’s utterly perplexed expression.

Seonghwa looked like he was still trying to process the fact that his own body had somehow produced a flower.

“This can’t be normal, Woo.”

He rubbed both hands over his temples, the throbbing in his head worsening with every passing second.

By the time they reached the living room, he dropped heavily onto the couch.

“I’m a human.”

He patted his torso vigorously, as though physically reminding himself of the fact.

“Blood and bones.”

Another pat.

“Organs.”

He looked at Wooyoung with genuine disbelief.

“How can I vomit petals?”

He gestured helplessly toward the bathroom.

“Where the hell are they even coming from?”

The question seemed to snap something into place inside Wooyoung’s head.

His eyes widened.

He suddenly clapped his hands together.

“Heartbreak!”

He snapped his fingers as though he’d just solved a particularly difficult puzzle.

Seonghwa stared at him.

For a moment, he genuinely wondered if Wooyoung had grown a second head.

“Yes!”

Wooyoung began talking to himself, the pieces finally falling into place.

“How could I forget this?”

His eyes lit up with recognition.

“The disease of unrequited love!”

A smile spread across his face.

He had finally remembered.

Finally remembered the name, the origin, the strange stories he’d once heard about it.

Then the smile slowly disappeared.

“Fuck.”

The word slipped out quietly.

“Unrequited love…”

He repeated it, this time barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung’s gaze shifted toward Seonghwa.

The realization settled heavily between them.

He slowly lowered himself onto the edge of the coffee table, his elbows resting against his knees.

Because suddenly, this wasn’t some obscure disease they’d read about once.

It wasn’t some strange medical myth.

It was Seonghwa.

And Seonghwa was in love with someone who didn’t love him back.

➿

Seonghwa lay sprawled across his bed, one hand extended toward the ceiling as he stared at the petal pinched delicately between his fingers.

It was white.

Almost completely.

There was only the faintest hint of pink along its edges, so subtle that he might have mistaken it for the reflection of the lamp above him if he hadn’t been staring so intently.

This was the second one.

This one, somehow, he had spat onto the pages of his economics textbook earlier, leaving it there until he’d finally brought it home with him.

The tip of the petal was stained red.

His blood had seeped into the delicate fibers, turning the pristine white into something almost grotesque.

Unrequited love.

Seonghwa sighed.

The words echoed in his head again.

He scoffed bitterly, as though dismissing the diagnosis could somehow make it disappear.

“Unrequited love…”

He muttered the words under his breath.

Then, unable to stand looking at the petal any longer, he closed his fingers around it.

The fragile thing crumpled effortlessly inside his fist.

Seonghwa stared at his clenched hand.

He had been in love with Hongjoong for years.

Years.

So what had changed?

Why now?

Why, after all this time, had his body suddenly decided to expose something he’d spent so long keeping hidden?

His chest tightened.

He slowly opened his hand again, revealing the crushed remains of the petal.

Nothing had happened today that hadn’t happened before.

Hongjoong had talked about leaving.

Seonghwa had cried.

He had finally been forced to confront the possibility of losing him.

But that couldn’t be enough.

Could it?

Seonghwa closed his eyes.

His mind drifted backward.

To the first time he’d looked at Hongjoong and realized something had changed.

He remembered it as clearly as though it had happened yesterday.

The moment he’d first seen his best friend differently.

The moment Hongjoong had stopped being simply Hongjoong—and somehow become something much more.

As stupid and childish as it sounded now, Seonghwa supposed he could trace it back to that summer.

To the time Hongjoong had nearly given himself a heart attack when Seonghwa’s temperature climbed to forty-one degrees.

The shorter boy had literally cried.

It had been their first summer vacation together without their parents hovering over them, the two of them traveling to a nearby town for a few days on their own.

Hongjoong had promised Seonghwa’s mother that he wouldn’t let anything happen to her precious son.

And yet, not even three days into their trip, he was already failing spectacularly.

Seonghwa smiled faintly at the memory.

He could still picture Hongjoong pacing around the tiny hotel room, panicked beyond reason, repeatedly pressing the back of his hand against Seonghwa’s burning forehead as though he could somehow will the temperature down himself.

He’d looked so scared.

So helpless.

And when he’d finally broken down and cried, Seonghwa had stared at him in quiet disbelief.

It had been the first time that something in his chest had cracked.

Just slightly.

Just enough for something unfamiliar to slip through.

Then there had been the welcome party for their final year of high school.

They had all been sitting in a circle, laughing too loudly and playing spin the bottle like any other group of teenagers their age.

Seonghwa hadn’t thought much of it.

Not until the bottle stopped.

On him.

Then, after another spin, it landed on Hongjoong.

The circle erupted.

Hongjoong merely chuckled.

And then he crossed the space between them a little too eagerly.

Before Seonghwa could even process what was happening, Hongjoong leaned down and stole his first kiss.

It was brief.

Barely there.

Just a stupid kiss in the middle of a stupid game.

But Seonghwa remembered every second of it.

He remembered going home that night and lying awake long past midnight.

Then doing it again the next night.

And the night after that.

For three entire weeks, he fell asleep with the ghost of Hongjoong’s lips lingering against his own.

And every time he remembered it, his heart beat far too quickly for thoughts that were supposed to belong to his best friend.

Maybe that was when it started.

Maybe he’d simply been too stupid to realize it.

Then there had been the university applications.

They had spent an entire afternoon sitting together, comparing brochures and websites, making lists of the universities they wanted to apply to.

Seonghwa had been carefully writing his choices down when Hongjoong leaned over his shoulder.

“Let me see your list.”

Seonghwa had looked up at him.

“Why?”

Hongjoong had shrugged as though the answer were obvious.

“So I can copy it.”

He’d said it so casually.

Like there was nothing strange about it.

“Of course we need to be together till the end.”

Seonghwa remembered the exact way his heart had reacted.

It had nearly leapt out of his chest.

For one ridiculous, breathless moment, he’d wanted to grab Hongjoong by the shoulders and shake him.

Look at me.

Please.

See what you’ve been doing to me.

Because Hongjoong had said it so easily.

Together till the end.

Seonghwa had carried those words with him ever since.

Now, years later—or perhaps only weeks before everything was about to change—he lay alone in the darkness of his bedroom, staring at the ceiling.

His fingers tightened around the crushed remains of the petal.

“You said till the end…”

The words left him as barely more than a whisper.

A single tear slipped from the corner of his eye and traveled slowly toward his temple before disappearing into the pillow beneath his head.

And for the first time, Seonghwa wondered whether he’d been foolish for believing him.

His phone vibrated beside his head.

Seonghwa sighed, reaching blindly across the mattress until his fingers finally found it.

He lifted it without looking at first.

Then he glanced at the screen.

Hongjoong

The crushed petal he’d been holding was thrown onto the sheets, as though it had suddenly become burning coal against his skin.

His heart gave an instinctive little jolt.

Of course it did.

Seonghwa cleared his throat once.

Then again, just for good measure.

He didn’t want Hongjoong to hear how badly he’d been crying.

He finally answered.

“Hey.”

His voice came out rough and hoarse.

Seonghwa winced at the sound of it himself.

A sharp gasp immediately sounded on the other end.

“You sick?”

Hongjoong’s voice had gone high with concern before Seonghwa had even gotten the chance to say anything else.

A small smile tugged at his lips despite everything.

There it was.

That raw, immediate concern.

The same concern that had made his heart crack open all those years ago.

“Nah.”

He swallowed.

“Just a bit of a sore throat.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie.

His throat was sore.

Hongjoong just didn’t need to know what had caused it.

“I told you to wear a jacket yesterday!”

Hongjoong scolded him immediately, his voice loud and incredulous through the speaker.

Seonghwa had to bite back a laugh.

Of course.

Of course Hongjoong’s first assumption was that Seonghwa had gotten sick because he’d refused to wear a jacket.

“What do you want?”

Seonghwa redirected the conversation, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Nothing.”

Hongjoong huffed softly.

“Our classes don’t overlap on Mondays, so…”

Seonghwa could practically picture the shrug accompanying the words.

He could see it in his mind as clearly as if Hongjoong were sitting right beside him—the slight lift of his shoulders, the way he’d probably be absentmindedly fiddling with his straw or tapping his fingers against whatever surface was closest.

Then Hongjoong giggled.

“I just missed you.”

Seonghwa’s smile faltered.

His heart gave a painful little squeeze.

“Did thin air swallow you today?”

Hongjoong continued, completely unaware of the effect his words were having.

“I didn’t even see you during lunch.”

Seonghwa stared at the ceiling.

Of course he’d noticed.

Of course Hongjoong had looked for him.

And somehow, that made everything hurt even more.

“Well…”

Seonghwa gulped, forcing his lips into something resembling a smile.

“You were just too lazy to search the library.”

He let out a quiet chuckle despite himself.

“You know if I’m not next to you, I’m in there.”

There was a sudden thud from Hongjoong’s end of the call, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

“Oh my God!”

Hongjoong sounded genuinely horrified with himself.

“That’s right!”

He laughed at his own forgetfulness.

“How did I not go there?”

Seonghwa smiled into his pillow.

Because of course he hadn’t.

Hongjoong could remember complicated music theory, entire melodies after hearing them once, and every little detail about the songs he was working on.

But apparently, he could forget the most obvious fact about his best friend.

“Anyway…”

Hongjoong yawned obnoxiously loudly into the phone.

Seonghwa could practically hear the stretch that accompanied it.

“How sick are you?”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“Jeez, I said I’m not sick.”

He whined, rolling onto his side and pulling the pillow closer to his chest.

“I know you better than I know myself, Hwa.”

Hongjoong declared it with such absolute certainty that Seonghwa’s chest tightened.

For one awful second, he wanted to scream.

Then why don’t you know?

Why couldn’t he see it?

Why couldn’t he see the way Seonghwa looked at him?

Why couldn’t he see the years of feelings he’d hidden behind every smile, every joke, every casual touch?

His lips pressed together firmly before any of those words could escape.

“I promise I’m fine.”

There was a pause.

Then Hongjoong spoke again, completely shameless.

“But I need an excuse to go there right now.”

Seonghwa stared at the ceiling.

Then a laugh burst out of him before he could stop it.

A genuine one.

Bright and unrestrained.

“Since when do you need one?”

He practically shouted the question into the speaker between giggles.

“That’s right.”

Hongjoong sounded pleased with himself.

“I’m coming over. Bye!”

“Wai—”

The call disconnected.

Seonghwa blinked.

He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear and stared down at the screen.

The call had ended.

Of course it had.

He shook his head, a helpless smile spreading across his face.

“Of course.”

And despite everything—the petals, the blood, the diagnosis he still couldn’t bring himself to believe—his smile turned fond.

Because somehow, Hongjoong had always been able to do that.

Make him smile even when his heart was breaking.

The doorbell rang approximately twenty minutes too soon.

Seonghwa frowned immediately.

There was no way Hongjoong had gotten there that quickly unless—

Of course.

He’d probably, for yet another time, decided to test the limits of his bike’s acceleration.

Seonghwa dragged himself off the bed and made his way toward the front door.

The moment he opened it, his suspicions were confirmed.

Hongjoong stood on the other side, disheveled and looking far too pleased with himself.

“You’re here too fast.”

Seonghwa narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Hongjoong gave him a sheepish grin.

“I, uh…”

He paused.

“I was nearby.”

The smile he gave Seonghwa was so shameless that it immediately betrayed the lie.

Before Seonghwa could question him further, Hongjoong slipped past him, bumping his shoulder against Seonghwa’s as he stepped inside.

“Nearby where?”

Seonghwa turned to follow him.

“My house.”

Hongjoong mumbled the answer while focusing a little too intently on tying and retying his shoelaces.

Seonghwa stared at him.

“That’s not close.”

“It can be.”

Hongjoong shrugged as though he’d just made a perfectly reasonable argument.

Before Seonghwa could respond, Hongjoong shoved a small grocery bag into his chest.

Seonghwa caught it instinctively.

“What’s this?”

He frowned, peeking inside.

“Cookies.”

Hongjoong smiled.

He looked almost proud of himself.

“They were on display at a bakery.”

He nodded toward the bag.

“They practically called your name.”

Seonghwa stared at the cookies.

Then at Hongjoong.

A quiet smile tugged at his lips.

Because of course they had.

Apparently, even pastries knew him better than Hongjoong did.

Seonghwa scoffed, taking the box out of the bag.

He opened it and stared down at the assortment of cookies packed neatly inside.

There had to be at least a dozen.

“Why are there so many?”

He deadpanned, giving Hongjoong a pointed side-eye.

The shorter man was already opening one of the kitchen cabinets, searching for cups as though he hadn’t heard the accusation.

“You’re telling me you won’t eat them?”

Hongjoong lifted a teasing eyebrow.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

Instead of answering, he picked up one of the cookies.

It was pinkish, its surface dusted with a faint layer of sugar.

He took a bite.

The sweetness exploded across his tongue, and an involuntary little moan escaped him.

Hongjoong glanced over, smiling knowingly.

Seonghwa swallowed.

“That wasn’t an answer to my question.”

“It was.”

Hongjoong grinned.

“If you’re going to murder them.”

Seonghwa stared at him.

“I don’t like you.”

“Right.”

Hongjoong’s grin widened.

“Because you love me.”

He bounced right in front of Seonghwa, smiling so brightly that his eyes nearly disappeared.

The cookie Seonghwa had just bitten into immediately went down the wrong pipe.

He choked.

His eyes widened as he doubled over, breaking into a violent coughing fit.

“Fuck—”

Hongjoong’s smile disappeared instantly.

“Hwa?”

He hurried forward, patting Seonghwa’s back.

“Are you okay?”

Seonghwa could only cough harder.

Of course.

Of fucking course he’d choke on a cookie immediately after Hongjoong casually announced that he loved him.

When the coughing went on just a little too long, Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

A sudden, urgent wave of panic washed over him.

No.

Not here.

Not with Hongjoong standing right there.

He quickly lifted a hand, dropping the half-eaten cookie into Hongjoong’s palm without bothering to explain.

Then he turned and rushed toward the bathroom.

“Hwa?”

He ignored him.

The moment he stepped inside, he locked the door behind him.

He couldn’t let Hongjoong see.

Couldn’t let him see the flowers.

Couldn’t let him see the blood.

Couldn’t let him see the thing that had somehow decided to bloom inside Seonghwa’s body because of him.

He bent over the toilet bowl again, one hand gripping the edge as another violent cough tore through his chest.

He gagged.

Once.

Twice.

Until the familiar lump finally dislodged itself from his throat and dropped into the water.

Seonghwa gasped desperately for air, his eyes watering from the strain.

His entire body trembled.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to breathe.

Then he looked down.

His stomach dropped.

Petals.

More than one this time.

Several delicate white-and-pink petals floated in the water.

Seonghwa grimaced.

That shouldn’t have alarmed him as much as it did.

But it did.

The first petal had been frightening.

The second had been confirmation.

But this—

This was more.

It was happening more frequently.

And there were more petals.

He barely had time to process the thought before a loud bang came from the other side of the door.

“Hwa!”

Hongjoong.

Seonghwa’s heart jumped.

“Are you okay?”

He couldn’t afford to think about it now.

He reached forward and flushed the toilet, watching the petals disappear beneath the rushing water.

Gone.

He grabbed a piece of toilet paper and quickly dabbed at his tongue, wiping away the lingering moisture and any trace of blood.

Another knock sounded.

“Seonghwa?”

“Coming!”

He forced the word out, clearing his throat as he straightened.

He took one last breath.

Then another.

And did his best to make himself look normal before unlocking the door.

“Hey.”

Seonghwa smiled.

His lips were still red and swollen, the aftermath of the coughing fit impossible to completely hide.

“Sorry about that.”

He waved one hand dismissively, adding a nonchalant little scoff as though he’d merely stepped away because of an ordinary cough.

He tried to walk past him.

Hongjoong frowned.

His hand shot out and caught Seonghwa by the elbow.

In one quick movement, he pulled him back around to face him.

“Hey?”

Hongjoong repeated the word with disbelief.

“Sorry about that?”

He lifted both hands, staring at Seonghwa as though he couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing.

Seonghwa gulped.

His fingers curled against his sweatpants, nails digging into the fabric.

“I—I am?”

He tilted his head, trying desperately to play dumb.

Hongjoong’s expression darkened.

“Don’t fucking kid me, Seonghwa.”

He took a step closer.

His voice dropped, losing the teasing warmth it had carried only minutes ago.

“What the fuck was that?”

Seonghwa’s eyes immediately fell to the floor.

His mind raced.

He needed an answer.

Anything.

Something believable.

But before he could come up with one, Hongjoong spoke again.

“Don’t you dare say it’s just a sore throat anymore.”

Seonghwa froze.

Hongjoong stared directly at him.

There was no teasing in his eyes now.

Only worry.

And fear.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

He exhaled, pushing his hair back from his forehead as though conceding an argument he’d never wanted to have in the first place.

“Okay, fine.”

He shifted his weight onto one foot and folded his arms loosely across his chest.

“You’re right.”

He paused.

“It’s not just a sore throat.”

Hongjoong’s eyes immediately sharpened.

Seonghwa quickly continued.

“I’ve had a stomach bug for a couple of days.”

He pouted, throwing Hongjoong an apologetic smile.

“But I knew you’d go crazy, so I downplayed it.”

He shrugged, trying to make the explanation sound as casual as possible.

“I’m sorry. I just knew you’d worry!”

Seonghwa stepped closer and placed a reassuring hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, really.”

He nodded firmly.

“Just a little under the weather.”

Hongjoong studied him.

His gaze moved carefully over Seonghwa’s face, lingering on his eyes, his pale complexion, and finally his pursed lips.

For a moment, Seonghwa wondered if he’d seen through him.

Then Hongjoong sighed.

Seonghwa couldn’t tell whether it was defeat or relief.

“Okay.”

Hongjoong finally relented.

“But you should’ve been honest with me!”

He slipped an arm around Seonghwa’s shoulders and pulled him back toward the kitchen.

Seonghwa let himself be dragged along.

He smiled faintly.

Because Hongjoong believed him.

And somehow, that made the lie feel even heavier.

Just as Seonghwa was pushed into one of the kitchen chairs, Hongjoong bent down in front of him.

Before Seonghwa could ask what he was doing, Hongjoong’s hands came up to gently cup his cheeks.

Seonghwa’s breath caught.

His eyes widened slightly.

The warmth of Hongjoong’s palms against his skin made his heart stumble in his chest, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

Then, without warning, Hongjoong leaned closer.

Seonghwa barely had time to process the movement before Hongjoong pressed a soft kiss to the squished part of his cheek.

His entire body went still.

“Don’t be sick, Hwa.”

Hongjoong exhaled softly against his skin.

“That’s like killing me.”

Before Seonghwa could recover from the kiss—or the words—Hongjoong gently knocked their foreheads together.

Seonghwa stared at him.

His heart was pounding so hard he was certain Hongjoong had to feel it through his fingertips.

How am I supposed to survive you?

Seonghwa blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then one time too many.

He gently pushed Hongjoong back, needing the space before his expression betrayed him any further.

A giggle escaped him.

Too light.

Too forced.

A desperate attempt to mask whatever had slipped across his face during those twenty seconds.

“What’s with all the sentimentality?”

He stood abruptly, suddenly unable to remain seated beneath Hongjoong’s watchful gaze.

Hongjoong pouted.

He looked genuinely offended.

“What do you mean?”

He gasped, following Seonghwa with his eyes.

“I’ve always worried about you.”

His expression softened.

“I worry when you’re healthy, let alone when you’re sick.”

Seonghwa’s smile faltered again.

His eyes slowly closed.

The meaning of those words settled into him.

Hongjoong wasn’t saying anything new.

This wasn’t some sudden burst of affection.

He’d always been like this.

Always worried.

Always watching.

Always caring.

Seonghwa inhaled deeply, forcing the ache in his chest back down.

Because that was the cruelest part.

Hongjoong really did love him.

He just didn’t love him the way Seonghwa desperately wanted him to.

“Okay, Mom.”

Seonghwa snorted, grateful for the excuse to turn the conversation into something lighter.

He pointed toward the stove.

“You want tea or not?”

He smiled.

Before I lose my mind.

Hongjoong shook his head at him, rolling his eyes affectionately.

Then he stepped closer.

Seonghwa barely had time to register the movement before an arm slipped around his waist from behind.

His breath caught.

Hongjoong leaned into him, wrapping himself comfortably around Seonghwa’s middle.

“Sure, please.”

His voice was soft and content.

He hummed happily as he rested his cheek against Seonghwa’s back.

Seonghwa froze.

His hands hovered uselessly near the kettle.

For several seconds, he simply stood there, staring at the stove.

Hongjoong was warm.

Too warm.

And far too close.

His heart began hammering against his ribs again.

Please don’t.

Not because he didn’t want Hongjoong there.

Because he wanted him there far too much.

Seonghwa swallowed, carefully reaching for the kettle.

“Tea it is.”

“I want a lot of—”

“Sugar, yes, I know.”

Seonghwa interrupted him with a quiet giggle.

He didn’t even need to turn around.

He’d made Hongjoong’s tea enough times to know exactly how much sugar he wanted.

Hongjoong beamed.

A pleased hum vibrated against Seonghwa’s back.

“Of course you’d know.”

He chuckled.

Seonghwa’s hand paused.

Just for a second.

His fingers trembled around the spoon, and his heart immediately began pounding harder against his chest.

“W-what do you mean?”

The question slipped out before he could stop himself.

Hongjoong scoffed, as though Seonghwa had asked the most ridiculous question imaginable.

“You’re my best friend, duh.”

Of course.

The answer landed softly.

Almost gently.

Seonghwa exhaled, only then realizing he’d been holding his breath.

He nodded.

“Yeah.”

A small laugh escaped him.

“Right.”

He turned back toward the tea, carefully stirring in the sugar.

Just his best friend.

That was all.

➿

“Have you not told him?!”

Wooyoung hissed the question as he turned sharply on his heels, glaring at Seonghwa from across the library table.

Seonghwa sat tucked into the corner of the desk, shoulders hunched and arms folded tightly across his chest.

It had been almost a week since the first symptom had appeared.

A week since he’d coughed up that first impossible petal.

By now, he’d learned its name.

Hanahaki.

A rare disease brought on by unrequited love.

The first two days had been almost deceptively mild.

One petal.

Then another.

He’d searched endlessly for an explanation, eventually even researching the flower itself.

There wasn’t necessarily a specific flower associated with the disease.

Apparently, it could vary.

But Seonghwa’s had been a rose.

Of course it had.

A rose was both his and Hongjoong’s favorite flower.

As though his body had needed to make absolutely certain he understood who this was about.

And after Hongjoong’s visit to the apartment, things had only gotten worse.

The petals had multiplied.

One became two.

Two became four.

Then more.

And more.

By now, Seonghwa was almost certain he’d coughed up enough petals to piece together an entire flower if he were insane enough to try.

He’d stopped counting.

The days passed, and the petals changed with them.

At first, they had been almost completely white, touched only by the faintest hint of pink.

Now the color had deepened considerably.

They were becoming redder with every passing day, their shade slowly approaching that of a perfectly ripe peach.

Beautiful.

If only they weren’t coming from inside him.

Seonghwa sighed heavily.

He finally lifted his eyes toward Wooyoung.

“What am I supposed to tell him?”

His voice cracked with desperation.

“Hello, I’m about to put a horror in your system because I vomit roses?”

He flailed both arms into the air, earning a couple of irritated glances from students farther down the library.

He lowered his voice immediately.

“I mean, what the hell am I supposed to say?”

Wooyoung stared at him.

Seonghwa dropped his hands onto the desk.

“I can’t just walk up to Hongjoong and say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m coughing up flowers because I’m hopelessly in love with you and apparently my body has decided to make that everyone else’s problem.’”

His voice grew quieter.

“I’d rather die.”

Wooyoung’s arms fell limply to his sides.

For a moment, he said nothing.

He simply stared at Seonghwa across the library table, his chest rising and falling more heavily with every breath.

Then his expression hardened.

“You know you’re being incredibly selfish.”

His voice came out hoarse.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

He recoiled as though the accusation had physically struck him.

“Excuse you?”

His glare sharpened.

“I’m literally keeping this a secret to save everyone the trouble.”

Wooyoung let out a humorless laugh.

The sound was almost disbelieving.

“With the price of eventually dying?”

He shook his head.

“Yeah. Okay.”

His voice cracked.

“Maybe to you, that’s the perfect outcome.”

His eyes were already beginning to glisten.

“But what about me?”

Seonghwa’s expression faltered.

Wooyoung stepped closer.

“What about me, Hwa?”

His chest heaved as he fought to keep his voice steady.

“What am I supposed to do?”

His eyes filled further.

“Just sit there and watch you get worse every day? Watch you cough up more and more blood and petals until one day you don’t wake up?”

Seonghwa opened his mouth.

Nothing came out.

“And what about Hongjoong?”

Wooyoung’s voice sharpened with every breath.

“The person you keep preaching that you love so fucking dearly?”

He swallowed hard.

“Do you honestly think we’d be fine?”

His voice trembled now, anger and fear bleeding into one another.

“Do you think we’d just live our lives to the fullest after you died?”

Wooyoung shook his head, tears finally threatening to spill.

“Knowing you died because you were too afraid to tell the person you loved?”

He stared directly at Seonghwa.

“Knowing we could’ve done something?”

His voice broke.

“You think Hongjoong would be fine with that?”

Silence settled between them.

Heavy.

Unbearable.

“Do you really think he’d be able to live with himself knowing you died because you thought protecting him meant keeping him in the dark?”

Seonghwa’s gaze dropped.

Wooyoung’s voice softened only slightly.

“You’re not saving us from anything, Hwa.”

He swallowed.

“You’re just deciding for us that losing you is something we should be willing to accept.”

Seonghwa pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping helplessly to his lap.

He didn’t have an answer.

Not one that would make Wooyoung understand.

“You know what?”

Wooyoung’s voice snapped through the silence again.

He leaned forward, forcing Seonghwa to lift his head.

“You have two weeks before we graduate.”

His eyes were hard.

“You either tell him or you don’t. I don’t give a damn.”

He paused.

“But if I see you getting even the slightest bit worse…”

His jaw tightened.

“I swear on my life, I’ll take you myself and force you into that surgery, Hwa.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

He shot to his feet.

“Woo—”

Wooyoung turned sharply, already storming away.

Seonghwa reached out and caught his arm.

“You can’t do that to me.”

His voice broke.

Wooyoung stopped.

Seonghwa’s fingers tightened around his sleeve as tears finally spilled freely down his cheeks.

“If—”

He struggled to breathe.

“If I do that…”

His voice cracked again.

“I won’t just lose my love for Hongjoong.”

Wooyoung slowly turned back toward him.

Seonghwa’s shoulders trembled.

“I’ll lose everything.”

He swallowed hard, trying to force the words out through the knot in his throat.

“I’ll lose every emotion I have for him.”

A sob escaped him.

“Even the platonic ones.”

He shook his head desperately.

“I won’t remember why I love him.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I won’t remember why he’s important to me.”

Another tear slipped down his cheek.

“I won’t even be able to look at him and feel what I feel now.”

He stared at Wooyoung with raw fear in his eyes.

“So what am I supposed to do?”

His voice barely carried across the room.

“Live without loving him…”

He swallowed.

“Or die loving him?”

Wooyoung scoffed.

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head as he wet his dry lips.

“You’re really asking me that?”

His eyebrows lifted.

“Me?”

Seonghwa’s grip on his sleeve loosened slightly.

Wooyoung stared at him for a long moment.

Then his expression softened—not with acceptance, but with something far more determined.

“Whatever you choose…”

He took a slow breath.

“I’m telling you right now, I’ll act selfishly too.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

Wooyoung carefully pulled his arm free from Seonghwa’s trembling fingers.

“I am not going to stand there and watch you disappear right through my hands.”

His voice cracked slightly on the last word.

“I won’t.”

He shook his head.

“So you can call me selfish.”

His eyes glistened.

“I don’t care.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

“I’d rather have you hate me for saving your life than have to live knowing I stood by and let you die.”

Seonghwa exhaled through puffed cheeks, but the tears refused to stop.

They kept rushing down his face no matter how desperately he tried to blink them away.

He was beginning to get frustrated with himself.

He hated crying.

Especially in public.

Especially here.

He drew in a slow breath, attempting to regulate himself before the hitching in his chest could turn into another sob.

He barely managed one steady inhale.

“Hwa?!”

Seonghwa flinched.

He knew that voice.

Footsteps hurried toward him.

Hongjoong jogged the last few steps before crouching down directly in front of him, both hands immediately coming to rest against Seonghwa’s knees.

His eyebrows pulled together deeply.

“Hey.”

His voice softened.

“Why are you crying?”

Seonghwa blinked through the tears.

For a moment, he could only stare.

Hongjoong was right there.

Looking at him with those worried eyes.

Worrying about him.

Again.

Seonghwa’s chest tightened.

Then he slowly sighed.

Only then did he realize.

It was probably lunch time.

Of course it was.

Hongjoong had come looking for him again.

Seonghwa sniffled, swallowing hard around the tightness in his throat.

“I had a fight…”

He wiped beneath his eyes with the back of his hand.

“With Wooyoung.”

“With Wooyoung?!”

Hongjoong repeated it sharply, genuine shock flashing across his face.

“That never happens.”

He rubbed at his eyes in visible disbelief.

“What the hell?”

His gaze immediately returned to Seonghwa.

“Did he hurt you?”

Hongjoong shifted as though he were already preparing to get up and go find Wooyoung himself.

Seonghwa quickly reached out and caught his hand.

“Don’t.”

He shook his head.

“It was my fault.”

His voice trembled with another sniffle, his shoulders still shaking faintly.

Hongjoong stared at him.

Then he shook his head.

“That can’t be true.”

Seonghwa blinked.

“I know you, Hwa.”

Hongjoong squeezed his hand gently.

“You’re practically an angel.”

Seonghwa’s breath caught.

He looked away.

Because if Hongjoong really knew him—

if he knew everything—

Seonghwa wondered whether he’d still think so.

“What did you fight about?”

Hongjoong’s voice was gentler this time.

His hands continued rubbing comfortingly up and down Seonghwa’s thighs where they rested against them, his touch slow and reassuring.

Seonghwa froze.

His mind went completely blank.

He needed something.

A reason.

Anything plausible enough to explain why he’d been sitting in the library crying after supposedly having a fight with Wooyoung.

But that was the problem.

He’d never had a real fight with Wooyoung.

Not once.

Not in all the years they’d known each other.

There was no believable story waiting for him.

His chest tightened.

He swallowed.

Nothing.

His breathing became shallower.

Faster.

He tried to take a deeper breath, but it only made the pressure in his chest worse.

“Seonghwa?”

Hongjoong’s voice sounded distant.

Seonghwa shook his head, trying desperately to get himself under control.

He couldn’t.

His lungs seemed to forget how to work properly.

He began hyperventilating.

Then his chest seized.

He coughed.

Once.

Hard.

He immediately brought a hand to his chest, patting it forcefully.

“I’m—”

Another cough tore through him.

Hongjoong’s hands stilled.

“Hwa?”

Seonghwa bent forward.

His eyes squeezed shut as another violent cough shook his entire body.

And then—

Something dropped from his mouth.

Seonghwa’s eyes flew open.

Petals.

A fistful of them.

They spilled from his lips and fluttered downward between them, scattering across the floor like grotesque confetti.

Red.

Deep red.

Far too many.

Silence.

Seonghwa slowly lifted his head.

Hongjoong hadn’t moved.

His hands were still resting against Seonghwa’s thighs.

But his face—

His face had gone completely pale.

His eyes were wide with terror as they remained fixed on the petals scattered at his feet.

Seonghwa’s heart stopped.

Because there was no lie left to tell.

Hongjoong gasped sharply.

The sound was small, almost strangled.

He instinctively tried to take a step backward.

His foot caught awkwardly beneath him.

He stumbled.

Then fell hard onto the floor beside the scattered petals.

His palms caught against the ground, stopping him from fully collapsing.

For several seconds, he didn’t move.

His wide, bewildered eyes darted across the floor.

One petal.

Then another.

And another.

All of them stained red.

His gaze slowly travelled upward.

Past the mess on the floor.

Past Seonghwa’s trembling hands.

Until it reached his face.

Seonghwa couldn’t look away.

Hongjoong’s expression was one he’d never seen before.

Confusion.

Fear.

Horror.

Disbelief.

His lips parted.

“What…?”

The single word came out barely above a whisper.

Seonghwa’s heart shattered.

Because Hongjoong finally knew.

Seonghwa slowly pushed himself to his feet.

His knees felt weak beneath him.

He extended a trembling hand toward Hongjoong.

“Joong…”

Hongjoong’s eyes flicked toward it.

Then he slapped it away.

Seonghwa flinched.

Hongjoong forced himself upright without his help, stumbling slightly as he regained his balance.

“What the fuck, Hwa?!”

His voice echoed through the empty library.

Seonghwa’s heart lurched.

He was suddenly grateful—desperately grateful—that they were the only two people there.

Because if anyone else had witnessed this…

If anyone else had seen the bloodied petals scattered across the floor, heard Hongjoong’s shout—

It would’ve been a nightmare.

“I—”

Seonghwa stumbled one step forward.

“Hongjoong—”

His voice cracked.

“This—”

He gestured helplessly toward the floor.

“That’s—”

“I know what this is!”

Hongjoong snapped.

The words cut through Seonghwa’s stammering.

His gaze dropped to the petals again.

And something in his expression changed.

The anger vanished.

What replaced it was worse.

Pain.

Raw, unmistakable pain.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

His mouth fell open.

“Y-you do?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer.

He just stared at the petals.

And Seonghwa felt his stomach drop.

“You’ve been in love?”

Hongjoong’s voice came out strained.

Almost disbelieving.

“And you didn’t think I should know?”

Seonghwa sucked in a shaky breath.

His eyes burned.

Then the tears came again, spilling freely down his cheeks.

“I—”

His voice broke.

“Hongjoong, I couldn’t—”

He shook his head desperately.

His hands were trembling so violently that he had to curl them into fists just to keep them from shaking visibly.

“I couldn’t…”

He couldn’t say it.

Couldn’t explain.

Couldn’t tell him that the person standing in front of him was the reason those petals had begun growing inside his lungs in the first place.

Hongjoong stared at him.

For a second, his expression was almost hopeful.

Then it disappeared.

“You couldn’t?”

He repeated the words quietly.

A bitter, mocking smile pulled at his lips.

“Wow.”

He nodded once.

“Thanks.”

Seonghwa’s heart dropped.

“Joong—”

But Hongjoong was already turning away.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked toward the library exit, shoulders tense.

Seonghwa instinctively took a step after him.

“Hongjoong, wait—”

Hongjoong stopped.

He didn’t turn around.

“Don’t follow me.”

The words were sharp.

Final.

Then he walked away.

Seonghwa stood frozen in the middle of the empty library.

Surrounded by red petals.

And the one person he wanted to explain everything to was walking away believing he had never trusted him enough to tell him.

➿

It was already the middle of the second-to-last week of their semester.

Graduation was close enough that Seonghwa could almost taste it.

Two weeks.

That was all that remained between them and the end of university.

Two weeks that were supposed to be filled with last-minute assignments, stupid jokes about graduation ceremonies, plans for what they would do once everything was finally over.

Two weeks that were supposed to belong to them.

Instead, Seonghwa had spent the majority of them watching Hongjoong disappear.

It had started on Monday.

The day his body had betrayed him in front of the one person he’d spent years desperately hoping would never find out.

Hongjoong had walked away from him that afternoon.

And he hadn’t looked back.

Since then, he’d been ignoring Seonghwa.

Blatantly.

There was no attempt to hide it.

If Seonghwa entered a room, Hongjoong found a reason to leave it.

If they happened to cross paths in the hallway, Hongjoong’s eyes would immediately drop toward his phone.

If Seonghwa sat at their usual table during lunch, Hongjoong simply wouldn’t show up.

It was almost impressive how thoroughly he managed to avoid him.

Almost.

Seonghwa wished he could say it didn’t hurt.

It did.

God, it hurt.

He’d tried messaging him.

The first day, he’d stared at their chat for nearly ten minutes before finally forcing his fingers to move.

Joong, please talk to me.

The message had been read almost immediately.

The response came less than a minute later.

Don’t text me. I’m fucking angry at you.

Seonghwa had stared at those words until his vision blurred.

He’d read them again.

And again.

And again.

Then he’d ignored the instruction.

Of course he had.

He sent another message.

Then another.

Then another.

Apologies.

Explanations that weren’t really explanations.

Fragments of thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to finish.

I didn’t mean to hide it from you.

Please just let me explain.

Joong, please.

I’m sorry.

Can we talk?

I’ll tell you everything.

Hongjoong never replied.

Eventually, he stopped even opening them.

The little delivered beneath Seonghwa’s messages became a permanent fixture on the screen.

At first, Seonghwa had convinced himself Hongjoong simply needed time.

He was angry.

That was all.

Hongjoong had always been emotional when someone he loved hurt him, even unintentionally.

He’d calm down.

They’d talk.

Everything would go back to normal.

At least, that was what Seonghwa kept telling himself.

But then the petals started coming more frequently.

Maybe it was the rejection.

Maybe it was the heartbreak of having Hongjoong pull away from him.

Maybe it was the sheer terror of knowing he’d finally lost the one person he’d spent years loving.

Whatever the reason, his body was deteriorating.

What had once been a petal here and there became handfuls.

Then handfuls became mouthfuls.

And now—

Now it happened several times a day.

Sometimes without warning.

Sometimes with only a dull ache in his chest preceding it.

Sometimes so violently that he had to grip the edge of whatever surface was closest just to keep himself upright.

He’d stopped trying to count.

There was no point.

The petals were everywhere.

In the bathroom.

In the trash.

On his desk.

Inside tissues he’d hastily stuffed into his pockets before anyone could see.

He’d started carrying spare tissues everywhere.

Then he’d stopped going anywhere altogether.

What was the point?

He couldn’t sit through lectures without worrying he’d suddenly start coughing.

Couldn’t eat without feeling something catch painfully in his throat.

Couldn’t sleep without waking up choking.

Eventually, even getting up to reach the bathroom had become too exhausting.

So he’d adapted.

That night, Seonghwa lay curled beneath his blankets, staring blankly at the bucket he’d placed beside his bed.

He’d started keeping it there several days ago.

At first, he’d been embarrassed by the necessity of it.

Now he was too tired to care.

He slowly shifted his gaze toward it.

The bucket was nearly full.

Seonghwa stared.

His stomach twisted.

He had emptied it that morning.

That morning.

He’d woken up before sunrise, barely able to breathe, and spent nearly twenty minutes coughing petals into it until his chest felt raw.

He’d emptied it.

Cleaned it.

Rinsed it.

Put it back beside his bed.

And now—

It was nearly full again.

His eyes burned.

He slowly pushed himself upright.

His entire body felt heavy.

Not just tired.

Heavy.

As though someone had filled his bones with sand.

He reached toward the bucket but stopped before touching it.

The petals inside were a mixture of white, pink, and deep red.

There were so many that the individual shapes had begun to lose their meaning.

They looked less like flowers now.

More like evidence.

Evidence of something he could no longer pretend wasn’t killing him.

Seonghwa swallowed.

His throat immediately protested.

He closed his eyes.

For one brief moment, he pictured Hongjoong.

His smile.

His laugh.

The way he bounced around the kitchen when he was excited.

The way he’d wrapped an arm around Seonghwa’s waist from behind only days ago.

I just missed you.

The memory hurt so badly that Seonghwa’s chest tightened.

He coughed.

Once.

Twice.

Then he grabbed the bucket.

Because he already knew what was coming.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, beneath all the exhaustion and fear, one horrible thought kept repeating itself.

Hongjoong is leaving soon.

Two weeks.

They had two weeks before graduation.

And Seonghwa didn’t know if he had two weeks left.

It was the beginning of the third week.

Five days.

Seonghwa had missed five days of classes.

At first, he’d told himself he’d only stay home for a day.

Then another.

Then another.

Eventually, he’d stopped checking the attendance portal altogether.

Now, as he lay buried beneath his blankets, staring blankly at the ceiling, a different thought had begun to occupy his mind.

Maybe he needed medical leave.

The thought alone made his stomach twist.

Could he even apply this late into the semester?

Could he ask to redo his final semester?

Would the university even allow it?

He was already so deep into exam season that the exams would begin before he knew it.

Graduation was supposed to be right around the corner.

Instead, he was lying in bed with a bucket beside him, unable to make it through a single day without coughing up flowers.

Seonghwa slowly lifted one hand.

He stared at his knuckles.

They looked wrong.

Too prominent.

Too pale.

Too shaky.

He flexed his fingers experimentally.

They trembled.

He frowned at them.

When had his hands started looking like that?

He couldn’t remember.

Maybe they had always looked this thin.

Maybe he was simply noticing now.

His gaze drifted toward the ceiling again.

Would I even be there next semester?

The thought came quietly.

Almost casually.

And somehow, that made it worse.

His eyes began watering again.

Seonghwa sighed.

He didn’t bother wiping them away this time.

He was too tired.

His skin was already irritated from how often he’d rubbed at his face, the area beneath his eyes raw and tender.

What was the point of making it hurt more?

A tear slipped toward his temple.

He closed his eyes.

Just for a moment.

He needed to rest.

Maybe if he slept long enough, he’d wake up feeling normal again.

Maybe tomorrow he’d be able to attend class.

Maybe tomorrow he’d wake up and there wouldn’t be petals in the bucket.

Maybe—

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Seonghwa’s eyes flew open.

The pounding came again from the main entrance.

His entire body jerked.

His breath caught painfully in his chest.

For a moment, he simply stared toward the bedroom door.

Another knock.

Louder this time.

Cold sweat immediately gathered at his temples.

“Shit.”

He slowly pushed the blankets aside.

His legs felt weak the moment his feet touched the floor.

He gripped the edge of the mattress and forced himself upright.

“Coming!”

His voice came out barely above a rasp.

So weak that he might as well have whispered.

Seonghwa swallowed and tried again to steady himself.

Then he took one shaky step toward the door.

The pounding didn’t stop.

Seonghwa supposed the person on the other side hadn’t heard him.

He dragged himself toward the entrance, each step heavier than the last.

When he finally reached the door, he unlocked it and pulled it open slowly.

He barely had time to see who was standing outside.

The door was suddenly shoved inward.

The force nearly sent Seonghwa stumbling sideways.

Before he could even react, arms wrapped tightly around him.

Far too tightly.

The sudden pressure against his ribs made him hiss.

“Ah—”

He instinctively patted the person’s back.

“Hey…”

The embrace loosened.

Seonghwa blinked.

His reddened, watery eyes widened impossibly.

His breath caught.

No.

There was no way.

“Joong?”

The name came out as barely a whisper.

He coughed immediately afterward.

Hongjoong.

It was Hongjoong.

Standing in his doorway.

After five days of silence.

“Fuck.”

Hongjoong’s voice broke.

“Fuck, fuck, Seonghwa!”

He suddenly started crying.

Not quietly.

Not the kind of tears Seonghwa could hide with a sleeve.

Hongjoong sobbed so abruptly that Seonghwa could only stare at him, stunned.

His coughing stopped completely.

“Joong…”

“I can’t.”

Hongjoong wailed.

He lifted both hands and immediately cupped Seonghwa’s cheeks, his palms trembling against his skin.

“I can’t.”

He repeated it, voice cracking apart.

His forehead dropped against Seonghwa’s chin.

His shoulders shook violently.

Seonghwa stood frozen.

Hongjoong was crying.

For him.

“I tried…”

Hongjoong struggled to breathe through his sobs.

“I tried telling myself you deserved it.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

“For lying to me.”

His fingers tightened against Seonghwa’s cheeks.

“For not trusting me.”

His voice cracked.

“I thought maybe I was fine without you.”

A broken laugh escaped him.

“I thought I could just…”

He couldn’t finish.

His shoulders shook harder.

“But I—”

Hongjoong sucked in a desperate breath.

“I searched.”

Seonghwa’s heart stopped.

“I looked it up.”

His voice dropped into a terrified whisper.

“And when I saw that the last symptom was just…”

He swallowed.

His eyes squeezed shut.

“Ceasing to exist…”

Seonghwa’s lips parted.

Hongjoong’s face crumpled.

“I can’t.”

He sobbed again.

“I can’t, Seonghwa.”

His thumbs brushed helplessly over Seonghwa’s cheeks.

“I can’t lose you.”

The words hung between them.

And for the first time since Monday, Hongjoong wasn’t angry.

He was terrified.

“Please.”

Hongjoong’s voice cracked.

“Please, please!”

His knees nearly buckled beneath him.

He caught himself against Seonghwa, fingers tightening around his shirt as though letting go might mean losing him immediately.

“Proceed with the surgery.”

His voice became desperate.

“Whoever it is…”

He swallowed hard.

“Whoever is stupid enough not to reciprocate your feelings—”

His expression suddenly twisted with anger.

“Or whoever the fuck he is.”

Hongjoong’s voice grew harsher with every word, the fear inside him twisting into something almost furious.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Hwa!”

He bounced restlessly on his feet, unable to contain the emotions drowning him.

“He doesn’t.”

His hands moved helplessly as he spoke.

“How could anyone not love you?”

Seonghwa’s heart clenched.

Hongjoong shook his head.

“Just get the surgery.”

His voice softened again.

“Please.”

He reached for Seonghwa’s hands.

“And we can still stay together.”

Seonghwa’s breath caught.

“I promise.”

Hongjoong squeezed his fingers.

“I’ll be here before.”

His voice trembled.

“During.”

He swallowed.

“And after.”

Seonghwa stared at him.

His brows slowly furrowed.

Something wasn’t making sense.

Not even a little.

He tilted his head, confusion overtaking the exhaustion on his face.

“How…”

His voice was barely audible.

“How can you ask me to do that?”

Hongjoong blinked.

Seonghwa’s eyes searched his face.

“If I’m in love with…”

His voice cracked.

“How can you ask me to have surgery?”

Hongjoong’s expression faltered.

Seonghwa stared at him, utterly bewildered.

Because none of this made sense.

Hongjoong was crying because he couldn’t lose him.

He was begging him to survive.

He was promising to stay by his side.

Yet somehow, he was asking Seonghwa to remove the very feelings that had brought him to this point.

How could he possibly ask that…

when he was the one Seonghwa loved?

Hongjoong recoiled.

“What do you mean, how can I ask you to?”

His voice cracked with disbelief.

“If I lose you, nothing will even be the same!”

He dragged both hands through his hair, pulling at the strands as though he could physically make sense of what Seonghwa was saying.

“Nothing would matter!”

Seonghwa frowned.

His confusion only deepened.

“But then…”

He swallowed painfully.

“How could I live looking at you the same way I look at any other stranger down the street, Joong?”

His voice was hoarse, every word scraped raw from his throat.

Hongjoong stopped.

Completely.

His mouth opened.

Then closed.

His brows knitted together.

“What?”

The word came out as a breath.

“What does that mean?”

He took two steps forward.

Then another.

His hands immediately found Seonghwa’s wrists, gripping them as though he needed something physical to anchor himself.

“What does that mean, Hwa?”

Seonghwa’s chest tightened.

He tried to answer.

Instead, another cough tore through him.

He doubled over.

Hongjoong’s grip tightened in alarm.

“Hwa—”

Seonghwa coughed again.

But this time, no petals came.

A small splash of blood escaped his mouth instead.

It landed across his lips, staining them crimson.

Hongjoong went completely still.

Then he shook.

“No.”

His voice trembled.

“No, no, no…”

His hands flew toward Seonghwa’s face.

“No.”

He desperately wiped at the blood with his thumbs, then his palms, as though he could erase it if he moved quickly enough.

“No, no, no…”

“Joong.”

Seonghwa caught his wrists.

Hongjoong’s frantic hands stilled.

“Joong.”

Seonghwa’s voice was exhausted.

But strangely calm.

He gently pulled Hongjoong’s hands away from his face.

“You’re the one I love.”

The words were quiet.

Simple.

They should have been impossible to say.

Yet somehow, after all these years, they came out effortlessly.

Seonghwa blinked.

Fresh tears gathered in his eyes.

“You’re the one I’m in love with.”

Hongjoong froze.

Completely.

His hands remained suspended between them.

His eyes widened.

His lips parted slightly.

No sound came out.

Not even a breath.

Every expression he’d worn over the past few minutes disappeared from his face.

Confusion.

Fear.

Anger.

They all vanished.

Leaving only stunned disbelief.

Because suddenly—

Every petal made sense.

Every cough.

Every secret.

Every strange look.

Every time Seonghwa had gone quiet around him.

Every time he’d seemed frightened by his own affection.

Hongjoong stared at him.

And for the first time, he understood.

The person Seonghwa had been dying for…

Had been him all along.

Hongjoong took an instinctive step backward.

His brain was running in circles.

Nothing made sense anymore.

“B-but…”

He stared at the floor.

His eyes flickered restlessly across the wooden surface as though the answer might somehow be written between the floorboards.

“That can’t be right…”

His brows furrowed.

Then his eyes snapped back toward Seonghwa.

“That can’t be right.”

Despite everything—the blood staining his lips, the petals scattered around them, the exhaustion weighing down every inch of his body—Seonghwa heard himself let out a small, incredulous giggle.

“Joong…”

He pressed a trembling hand against the center of his chest.

“I would know better.”

His voice was almost fond despite the tears still clinging to his lashes.

“But it can’t be!”

Hongjoong insisted.

His voice cracked with frustration.

Seonghwa’s brows shot upward.

Something hot flared in his chest.

Anger.

Hurt.

Maybe both.

“Why are you so upset?”

He threw both hands into the air.

“What the hell?”

Hongjoong stared at him.

His chest heaved.

Then something in his expression shifted.

His eyes softened.

His voice dropped.

“Because I love you.”

Seonghwa froze.

Hongjoong swallowed.

“I love you, too.”

He emphasized the first word.

“I.”

Seonghwa blinked.

Once.

Twice.

All the anger he’d been holding onto dissolved instantly.

His hands slowly fell to his sides.

His lips parted.

“What?”

Hongjoong stared at him through wet eyes.

“I love you, Hwa.”

Seonghwa couldn’t breathe.

Not because of the flowers.

Not this time.

Because after all these years…

The words he’d spent countless nights dreaming about had finally been spoken.

By Hongjoong.

To him.

“So how could this be?”

Seonghwa gestured vaguely at himself.

At his chest.

At the petals scattered around their feet.

At everything that had somehow brought them to this moment.

Hongjoong stared at him.

“That’s what I’m saying!”

He slapped the back of one hand into his palm, frustration evident in his voice.

“How the hell does that even happen?”

Seonghwa frowned.

The elephant in the room remained completely ignored for the moment.

There was still too much to untangle.

“But…”

He swallowed.

“You wanted to leave.”

Hongjoong blinked.

“So?”

He shook his head as though that answer should have been obvious.

“You wanted to go live abroad.”

Seonghwa’s voice trembled.

“You wanted to be away.”

Hongjoong opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

The fight seemed to drain out of him with his next exhale.

He stared at Seonghwa.

Really stared.

And suddenly, he could practically hear the thoughts running through his best friend’s head.

You wanted to leave me.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened slightly.

He rubbed a hand violently over his face.

“Is that why you were so upset about it back at the café?”

His words came out muffled behind his palm.

Seonghwa choked on a gasp.

His eyes widened.

He lifted one palm in front of him as though Hongjoong had just stated the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course!”

Hongjoong stared at him.

Then dragged both hands down his face.

“You’re so stupid.”

He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Seonghwa’s lips immediately pushed into a pout.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he was supposed to feel about the insult.

It was, objectively, an insult.

But Hongjoong’s voice had sounded…

Fond.

Almost unbearably fond.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged, deliberately sulking.

Hongjoong’s head snapped up.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It sounded exactly like that.”

Seonghwa folded his arms around himself, turning his face away.

Hongjoong stared.

His expression immediately shifted into panic.

“Hwa.”

Silence.

“I didn’t mean you’re stupid.”

Another pout.

“I meant…”

Hongjoong struggled.

He gestured helplessly between them.

“You’re stupid.”

Seonghwa’s head whipped around.

“Joong!”

“No! Wait!”

Hongjoong’s eyes widened.

“That’s not what I meant either!”

Despite everything, Seonghwa almost laughed.

Almost.

Hongjoong groaned, rubbing his face again.

“I’m saying you’re stupid because you thought I’d leave you.”

Seonghwa’s expression softened.

Hongjoong looked at him helplessly.

“I was talking about leaving the country.”

He paused.

“I never said I wanted to leave it without you.”

Hongjoong’s voice dropped until it was barely above a whisper.

He took a slow step toward Seonghwa.

Then another.

“Hwa…”

His eyes searched Seonghwa’s stunned face.

“I wanted us to leave together.”

Seonghwa’s lips parted.

Hongjoong swallowed.

“I’d already thought about it.”

He gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh.

“I made enough money from my gigs to support us for the first few months.”

His gaze softened.

“I figured we’d find somewhere to live once we got there.”

Seonghwa simply stared at him.

His brain struggled to catch up.

“You…”

Hongjoong nodded.

“Yeah.”

“You actually…”

“I did.”

Seonghwa blinked.

Hongjoong shook his head with an incredulous scoff.

“Did you really think—”

He stopped himself.

His eyebrows pulled together again.

“But I was intentionally obvious!”

Seonghwa stared at him.

“You were not.”

The response came completely deadpan.

Hongjoong’s mouth fell open.

“I was!”

“No.”

“I literally told you we had to be together until the end.”

“You said that about university.”

“I showed you my entire plan.”

“Because you wanted my opinion.”

“I told you I wanted you there!”

“You said ‘of course we need to be together.’”

“Yes!”

“That could mean anything.”

Hongjoong stared at him in disbelief.

Seonghwa stared back.

For a moment, neither said anything.

Then Hongjoong sighed.

“You’re impossible.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched.

“So are you.”

And somehow, after weeks of misunderstanding, fear, and heartbreak…

It felt strangely familiar.

Hongjoong sighed deeply.

His eyes wandered around the apartment.

The scattered petals.

The darkness that had settled over the room.

The dishes left untouched in the kitchen.

The general mess that Seonghwa would normally never have tolerated for more than a few hours.

His lips trembled.

“You were dying slowly…”

His voice was barely audible.

“And I was busy being selfish.”

Seonghwa’s expression softened.

Hongjoong shook his head, looking down at the floor.

“I’m such an asshole.”

He growled the words at himself.

Then his attention returned to Seonghwa.

His hand lifted carefully.

His fingertips brushed against the taller’s throat.

“How do you feel?”

The touch was featherlight.

“Is it still hurting?”

Seonghwa blinked.

The question forced him to actually think about it.

He swallowed once.

Then twice.

He waited for the familiar scraping sensation.

The painful itch.

The pressure in his chest.

Anything.

But—

Nothing.

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed.

He swallowed again.

His eyes widened slightly.

It was easier.

Much easier.

Almost normal.

“I…”

He blinked in surprise.

“I don’t know.”

His voice came out quiet.

He genuinely didn’t know.

Hongjoong’s expression immediately turned serious.

“We should get you checked.”

He didn’t wait for an argument.

He gently took Seonghwa by the arm and guided him toward the bedroom.

Seonghwa followed, still too stunned by the sudden lack of pain to protest.

They had barely crossed the doorway when Hongjoong stopped dead.

An ear-piercing gasp tore through the silence.

His eyes locked onto the bucket beside Seonghwa’s bed.

Seonghwa followed his gaze.

His own eyes widened.

Oh.

Right.

The bucket.

His cheeks immediately burned.

“I—I didn’t know you’d come.”

He scratched awkwardly at the back of his head.

Hongjoong stared at the nearly overflowing container for another second.

Then he looked back at Seonghwa.

His expression softened.

“Sleep.”

Seonghwa blinked.

“What?”

“Sleep.”

Hongjoong shook his head, already reaching for the bucket.

“I’ll clean this up.”

“Joong—”

“No.”

Hongjoong gave him a look.

“You’ve done enough.”

He picked it up carefully.

Then, despite everything, the corner of his mouth twitched.

“The neat freak inside you must be screaming.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched.

“Whipping,” he corrected weakly.

Hongjoong paused.

Then snorted.

“Yeah.”

He glanced toward the mess around them.

“Whipping.”

Seonghwa let out a tiny laugh.

And for the first time in days, the sound didn’t end in a cough.

➿

Seonghwa’s eyelids fluttered open.

For several seconds, he didn’t move.

He simply stared at the ceiling, trying to remember where he was.

The room was dark.

Not completely, but dark enough that the faint light filtering through the curtains told him it was well past afternoon.

He slowly pushed himself upright.

His first instinct was immediate.

His hand went to his chest.

He patted it once.

Then again.

His fingers pressed carefully against his sternum as he waited for the familiar pressure to return.

Nothing.

His breathing was steady.

His lungs felt—

Strangely normal.

Seonghwa swallowed.

His throat was unmistakably sore.

He winced.

But that could have been an aftereffect.

After everything he’d coughed up, after days of tearing his throat apart, it would have been strange if it didn’t hurt.

He swallowed again.

Still sore.

But no petals.

No blood.

Seonghwa frowned.

He genuinely had no idea what to make of it.

Was it getting better?

Was the disease actually receding?

Or was this just another brief reprieve?

He was still lost in thought when the bedroom door slowly opened.

Seonghwa’s eyes shifted toward it.

Hongjoong peeked inside.

For a moment, only half his face was visible behind the door.

Then his eyebrows shot upward when he realized Seonghwa was awake.

“Oh.”

His expression immediately softened.

“Hey…”

He pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked toward the bed.

Seonghwa watched him approach.

And for the first time, there was no need to wonder what Hongjoong was thinking.

There was no secret left between them.

No petals hiding the truth.

No misunderstanding.

Just Hongjoong.

Walking toward him.

Hongjoong sat down at the edge of the bed.

Without saying anything else, he reached for Seonghwa’s visible hand and enclosed it between both of his.

His palms were warm.

Seonghwa’s fingers instinctively curled around them.

“I’m sorry.”

Hongjoong’s lips stretched into a small, lopsided smile.

“If I wasn’t a coward…”

His thumb brushed slowly over Seonghwa’s knuckles.

“If I’d just confessed…”

The words died on his tongue.

He didn’t need to finish.

Seonghwa knew exactly what he meant.

If they’d just been honest.

If they’d just talked.

Maybe none of this would’ve happened.

“It’s fine.”

Seonghwa shrugged.

“I was worse.”

He squeezed Hongjoong’s hand.

“We were both idiots.”

A quiet laugh escaped Hongjoong.

“Yeah.”

Seonghwa looked down at their intertwined hands.

“Let’s just…”

He hesitated.

He couldn’t possibly ask Hongjoong to forget this.

Not after everything.

Not after the fear they’d both experienced.

So he settled for something else.

“Move on.”

Hongjoong stared at him.

Then, without warning, he climbed onto the bed.

Seonghwa blinked as Hongjoong crawled closer before settling himself directly on his lap.

“Joong—”

“I love you.”

Seonghwa froze.

Hongjoong wrapped his arms around his waist.

“I love you.”

His voice was quieter this time.

“I’ve loved you for so long.”

Seonghwa’s cheeks began burning.

“Not as a friend.”

Hongjoong tightened his arms around him.

“I love you.”

Again.

And again.

“I love you.”

Seonghwa blinked rapidly.

His face felt unbearably hot.

“Joong…”

“I love you.”

“You’ve said that.”

“I know.”

Hongjoong smiled.

“I want to keep saying it.”

Seonghwa’s heart squeezed.

Hongjoong leaned closer.

“I love you.”

Seonghwa swallowed.

His lips parted.

“M—”

The first sound came out embarrassingly shaky.

He immediately cleared his throat.

Hongjoong waited.

Seonghwa’s eyes dropped.

“Me too…”

The words were barely a whisper.

He turned his face toward the wall across from them, cheeks burning even hotter.

Hongjoong stared at him.

Then smiled.

A huge, radiant smile.

“I know.”

Seonghwa’s head snapped back.

“You’re annoying.”

Hongjoong laughed.

“And you love me.”

Seonghwa tried to glare.

It lasted approximately two seconds.

“…Unfortunately.”

Hongjoong hugged him tighter.

“Good.”

And for once, Seonghwa didn’t mind the way his heart was pounding.

“Can I kiss you?”

Hongjoong’s words fell directly against Seonghwa’s shoulder.

Seonghwa immediately pressed his lips together, fighting the embarrassed whine that threatened to escape.

“Don’t make this awkward.”

He buried his face deeper into Hongjoong’s neck.

Hongjoong chuckled softly.

“Can I?”

He persisted.

There was an almost childish urgency in the way he wiggled closer, making Seonghwa’s arms tighten around him.

Then Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look at him.

Seonghwa’s face was completely red.

Their eyes met.

For once, Seonghwa didn’t look away.

His gaze softened.

The nervousness remained, but underneath it was something warmer.

Something he’d been waiting years to feel.

“Please.”

The word left him on a quiet sigh.

Hongjoong smiled.

He leaned closer slowly, giving Seonghwa every opportunity to change his mind.

Seonghwa didn’t.

Their lips met.

Softly.

Tentatively.

Almost shy.

For a few seconds, neither of them moved.

They simply stayed there, finally allowing themselves to experience something they’d both wanted for far longer than either had been willing to admit.

When they eventually pulled apart, Seonghwa’s eyes remained closed for another moment.

Hongjoong smiled against the corner of his mouth.

“Hi.”

Seonghwa opened his eyes.

“Hi.”

And somehow, after everything—

It felt like the easiest thing in the world.

Hongjoong carefully climbed off his lap, still conscious of how weakened Seonghwa’s body was.

He settled beside him instead, leaning back against the headboard.

Their shoulders pressed together.

For a few seconds, neither spoke.

Then Hongjoong cleared his throat.

“So…”

Seonghwa glanced at him.

“Don’t want to be that guy—”

“But you will be.”

Seonghwa cut him off with a laugh.

Hongjoong gasped, placing a hand dramatically over his chest.

“Yes, thank you very much.”

His expression turned sheepish.

“Your first exam is in two days.”

The smile he gave Seonghwa was almost apologetic, as if he knew he’d just murdered the romantic atmosphere they’d finally managed to create.

Seonghwa’s unrestrained whine confirmed it.

“Ugh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I know.”

Hongjoong nudged their shoulders together.

“So…”

He hesitated.

“You’ve missed five days.”

Seonghwa sighed.

“Are you going to take the exams?”

He glanced toward him.

“Or do you want to take some time off?”

Seonghwa shook his head.

Then let it fall against Hongjoong’s shoulder.

“I want to get over this.”

Hongjoong’s expression softened.

Seonghwa closed his eyes.

“I want to see what you’ve planned for us.”

A shy smile immediately appeared on Hongjoong’s face.

He looked down at Seonghwa resting against him.

“But what about the days you missed?”

Seonghwa slowly lifted his head.

He gave Hongjoong a deeply unimpressed glare.

“Do you honestly believe I’m such a loser that five missed classes are going to affect me?”

Hongjoong scoffed.

“No, but—”

“Oh my God, Joong.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“I’ve told you I’m smart.”

He poked Hongjoong lightly in the side.

“Five days more or less isn’t going to change that.”

Hongjoong stared at him.

Then smiled.

“There he is.”

Seonghwa frowned.

“Who?”

“My arrogant genius.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitched.

“Shut up.”

“I missed him.”

Seonghwa leaned back onto his shoulder.

“…I missed you too.”

➿

“So you won’t die?”

Wooyoung’s voice cracked.

His face was buried in both hands.

For a moment, Seonghwa thought he was being dramatic.

It took him nearly ten seconds to realize the sounds coming from between Wooyoung’s fingers weren’t exaggerated sniffles.

He was genuinely sobbing.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

“Oh, shit—“

He immediately moved closer, sitting beside him.

“I won’t.”

He squeezed Wooyoung’s thigh reassuringly.

“I won’t die.”

Wooyoung slowly lifted his head.

His eyes were red and swollen.

He wiped underneath his nose with the sleeve of his shirt.

Seonghwa grimaced.

“Disgusting.”

“Shut up.”

Wooyoung sniffled.

Then, after another moment, he looked at Seonghwa suspiciously.

“How did Hongjoong figure it out?”

Seonghwa immediately winced.

The memory came rushing back.

The library.

The petals.

Hongjoong falling onto the floor.

The blood.

The confession.

His face burned.

“It was…”

He dragged a hand down his face.

“It was pretty embarrassing.”

He groaned.

“Oh my God.”

He covered his face.

“I can’t believe he had to find out like that.”

Wooyoung stared at him.

Then his lips twitched.

“No.”

Seonghwa peeked between his fingers.

“Don’t.”

Wooyoung’s shoulders began shaking.

“Woo.”

He tried to warn him.

It was too late.

Wooyoung burst out laughing.

“Oh my God!”

He doubled over, laughing so loudly that Seonghwa’s face went scarlet.

“Don’t laugh!”

Seonghwa threw himself backward onto the cushions.

“You’re horrible!”

Wooyoung could barely breathe.

“You literally—”

“Stop!”

“You coughed up an entire bouquet in front of him!”

“Wooyoung!”

“And then confessed!”

“I said stop!”

Wooyoung wiped another tear from the corner of his eye.

This time, it was from laughter.

“I’m sorry.”

He was very obviously not sorry.

Seonghwa buried his face in a cushion.

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Wooyoung grinned.

“You’re too happy to be alive.”

Seonghwa exhaled.

“Indeed.”

The word came out as a quiet whisper.

Wooyoung’s expression softened.

Without another word, he wrapped both arms around Seonghwa, pulling him into a tight hug.

Seonghwa leaned into him.

For all the teasing and arguing, there was still a strange weight in his chest whenever he thought about how close he’d come to losing everything.

Wooyoung squeezed him once before pulling back.

“Okay.”

He wiped beneath his eyes.

“But how did Hongjoong know at first glance?”

Seonghwa shrugged.

“Apparently one of his friends had gone through it.”

Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed.

Suspiciously.

“One of his friends?”

He arched one eyebrow.

Seonghwa immediately avoided eye contact.

He gave a single, almost painfully casual nod.

“Yeah.”

Wooyoung stared at him.

Seonghwa stared very intently at a spot on the opposite wall.

“All of his friends…”

Wooyoung’s voice slowed.

He pointed between the two of them.

“…are our friends, Hwa.”

Seonghwa’s eyes remained firmly elsewhere.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open.

“Who was it?”

Silence.

“Why aren’t you telling me?”

“Someone.”

Wooyoung groaned.

He threw both hands into the air.

“Oh my God.”

Seonghwa glanced at him.

“I know him.”

Wooyoung leaned closer.

“I know him, don’t I?”

“No.”

“You’re acting like a dumb bitch.”

“Woo—”

“I know you.”

Wooyoung pointed accusingly at him.

“And I know everyone Hongjoong hangs out with.”

He dropped his hands onto his thighs.

“Tell me!”

Seonghwa sighed.

“It’s not important.”

“It is absolutely important!”

Wooyoung’s voice rose.

“After everything you put me through, I deserve to know!”

That made Seonghwa’s chest squeeze.

The guilt he’d been carrying hadn’t disappeared completely.

He looked down.

“Fine.”

He sighed.

Then, almost reluctantly, he shifted farther away on the couch as though he needed physical distance from whatever reaction was coming.

“It was San.”

He gulped.

Even saying the name made him wince.

Wooyoung froze.

Completely.

His eyes widened.

His mouth fell open.

For several seconds, there was nothing.

Then—

“San?!”

Seonghwa flinched.

“My San?!”

Wooyoung practically shrieked.

He shot upright, pointing at himself in disbelief.

“My San?!”

Seonghwa covered his ears.

“Oh my God, Woo.”

“You mean our San?!”

“Yes!”

“You mean the San I know?!”

“Yes!”

“The San who—”

“Yes!”

Wooyoung stared at him.

Then slowly placed both hands over his mouth.

“Oh my God.”

Seonghwa already knew what was coming.

Wooyoung’s eyes lit up.

“You have so much explaining to do.”

Seonghwa groaned dramatically, sinking farther into the cushions.

“All I know is that it was the push he needed to finally confess to you. Apparently, it was still in the early stages.”

He shrugged.

Wooyoung stared at him.

Then pointed at himself.

“I was his unrequited love?”

Seonghwa nodded.

Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open.

“That’s insane!”

He slapped a hand against his chest.

“I fell for him at first glance!”

“I know.”

Seonghwa nodded again.

“We dug into it a little with Joong.”

His eyes narrowed as he tried to recall the conversation.

“Apparently, it can manifest because of personal beliefs too.”

He tilted his head.

“Like… psychosomatically?”

Wooyoung frowned.

Seonghwa shrugged.

“Something like that.”

He leaned back.

“But yeah. There are apparently a lot of different versions of it.”

Wooyoung sat in silence for a moment.

Then his expression slowly changed.

“So…”

Seonghwa glanced at him.

“If San had never gotten sick…”

He paused dramatically.

“…he might’ve never confessed?”

Seonghwa shrugged.

“Maybe.”

Wooyoung stared into the distance.

Then slowly smiled.

“Well.”

He clasped his hands together.

“Thank God for Hanahaki.”

Seonghwa snorted.

“That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“I don’t care.”

Wooyoung grinned.

“My boyfriend is alive, I’m not traumatized anymore, and apparently I was so irresistible that the universe had to literally make him cough flowers before he’d admit he loved me.”

Seonghwa stared at him.

“You’re unbearable.”

“I’m loved.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“By San.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes.

“Unfortunately.”

Wooyoung squinted again.

That suspicious little look returned to his face.

Seonghwa immediately knew that expression.

“Oh no.”

Wooyoung reached for his phone.

“Woo.”

He ignored him.

He tapped on a contact and lifted the phone to his ear.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

“Don’t.”

Wooyoung’s lips curled into a tiny smile.

The call connected.

He immediately gasped dramatically.

“Hey, babe.”

His voice was sweet.

Too sweet.

“Are you busy?”

There was a pause.

Wooyoung’s smile twitched.

A tiny edge crept into his voice.

“You are?”

Seonghwa buried his face in his hands.

He could already picture the conversation happening on the other end.

“Well…”

Wooyoung leaned back.

“Wrap it up and come by.”

Another pause.

His expression hardened.

“I need you here as soon as yesterday.”

Seonghwa groaned.

“Woo—”

Wooyoung hung up.

Just like that.

He dropped the phone onto his thigh.

Seonghwa slowly lowered his hands.

“You weren’t supposed to let him know you know.”

Wooyoung blinked innocently.

“I didn’t tell him anything.”

“You literally called him and summoned him here!”

“I invited my boyfriend over.”

“You sounded terrifying.”

“I sounded affectionate.”

“You sounded like his debt collector.”

Wooyoung shrugged.

“He’ll survive.”

Seonghwa groaned and dragged both hands down his face.

“Hongjoong is going to kill me.”

Wooyoung frowned.

“Why?”

“Because now San knows you know.”

“So?”

“So you know how that looks like!”

Wooyoung stared at him for a second.

Then grinned.

“Oh.”

He leaned back comfortably.

“This is going to be fun.”

Seonghwa stood up, shaking his head as he reached for his discarded jacket.

“I’ll not stay to witness it.”

He slipped one arm into his sleeve.

“But I will anticipate your dramatic storytelling.”

He scoffed, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Joong’s almost done anyway.”

He walked toward the door.

“What about my mental support?!”

Wooyoung whined, immediately scrambling after him.

Seonghwa glanced over his shoulder.

“Yours is fine.”

He smiled.

“I’m worried about San.”

Wooyoung gasped in offense.

“Excuse me?”

Seonghwa laughed.

“Good luck.”

“Seonghwa!”

He slipped through the doorway before Wooyoung could grab him.

“Traitor!”

The door clicked shut behind him.

Wooyoung stood there for a moment.

Then his phone buzzed.

He looked down at the screen.

San: I’m on my way. What happened?

➿

“Babe!”

Hongjoong waved enthusiastically from the entrance of his practice studio.

Seonghwa immediately broke into a jog, covering the last few steps between them before throwing his arms around Hongjoong the moment he was within reach.

Hongjoong caught him easily.

“All good?”

Seonghwa hummed against him, closing his eyes as he basked in the warmth of his boyfriend’s embrace.

For a moment, he simply stayed there.

No fear.

No petals.

No tightness in his chest.

Just Hongjoong.

“Yeah.”

Hongjoong nodded, pulling back just enough to look at him.

He tiptoed and pressed a soft kiss against Seonghwa’s lips.

Seonghwa smiled.

“The contract will start in July!”

Hongjoong practically bounced where he stood.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

A hand flew over his mouth.

“Really?!”

“Really!”

Hongjoong was practically vibrating with excitement.

“The company is in LA.”

His smile was impossibly bright.

Seonghwa stared at him for a moment.

Then smiled just as brightly.

“Is that fine with you?”

Seonghwa shrugged.

“Sure.”

He slipped his hand into Hongjoong’s.

“I believe accountants are needed there too.”

Hongjoong snorted.

“Obviously.”

Seonghwa giggled.

“So I guess we’re going to LA.”

Hongjoong squeezed his hand.

“Together.”

Seonghwa looked at him.

“Together.”

And this time, when Hongjoong talked about leaving—

Seonghwa didn’t hear goodbye.

He heard us.