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Some people love flowers.
They love the way they bloom in early spring beneath the morning sun, the softness of their petals, the sweetness of their scent. They give them to people they love, press them between the pages of old books, and keep them in vases long after they should have withered. Shiki had never understood the appeal, at least not until the flowers began growing inside his lungs.
The first petal came up with blood.
Shiki noticed it sometime after three in the morning, when the world outside his window had gone dark enough to become indistinguishable from the glass and the only light in his room came from the pale glow of a monitor left running long after he had stopped paying attention to it, and for several seconds he simply stared at the tiny thing resting against his palm as though it were an accusation written in a language he had forgotten how to read.
It was white.
Not the soft white of paper or winter or moonlight, but something almost translucent, the edges faintly silvered beneath the screen's glow, and there was a delicate red stain spreading through its center where it had been coughed up from somewhere deep inside his chest.
Shiki turned it over between his fingers. A flower petal. He knew what that meant.
Everyone did.
Hanahaki was not rare enough to be a myth and not common enough to be ordinary; it was the sort of disease people spoke about in lowered voices, with the uncomfortable reverence reserved for beautiful things that could kill you, like a poisonous animal.
Unrequited love, they called it, as though the words made it sound gentler than it was. As though calling it love could somehow disguise the fact that flowers were taking root in a person's lungs and slowly filling them until every breath became a struggle between the desire to live and the inability to let go.
There were treatments, there were surgeries. There were miracles, supposedly but there was one cure everyone knew about.
To be loved back.
Shiki closed his fingers around the petal until it crumpled. "How troublesome." His voice sounded perfectly steady. That was the first of many lies that Shiki Katagami would tell himself and others.
The second came the next morning when Caelen asked him why he looked tired.
"You look like shit." Caelen exclaimed after entering the room, the Shikigami was resting in. Shiki glanced at him over the rim of his cup. "Good morning to you too."
The police officer sat down right next to Shiki, taking the coffee from the older man's hands. "I'm serious." With an annoyed huff, mourning his coffee Shiki answered. "So am I. Good morning."
Caelen frowned. There was always something irritatingly perceptive about him, something that made Shiki feel as though he were being watched even when Caelen was busy yelling at a game or laughing at something one of the others had said. He could hide things from almost anyone. Six centuries of existence had taught him the usefulness of silence, the elegance of withholding, the simple survival instinct of never allowing anyone to know exactly where you were wounded.
Caelen, unfortunately, had a habit of looking directly at the wound. “You sick?” Caelen asked, taking a sip from the stolen coffee. The question was casual, almost careless, but his eyes lingered on Shiki for a moment longer than they needed to. “No,” Shiki replied, his voice as flat as ever. Caelen lowered the cup slightly, studying him beneath the faint crease of concern in his brow. “You look pale.” Shiki barely reacted, only glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “It’s my natural complexion.” Caelen gave him a look, unconvinced. “You’re always pale, but-” “Then congratulations. You’ve solved the mystery.” Shiki’s tone carried just enough dry amusement to make it clear he knew exactly how irritating he was being. Caelen stared at him. Shiki stared back, neither willing to look away first. The silence stretched between them, quiet and strangely familiar, until Caelen finally let out a slow sigh and leaned back. “You’re so annoying.” Shiki’s expression remained composed, though there was the faintest flicker in his eyes. “And yet you keep coming back.” For a moment, Caelen said nothing. The air seemed to settle around them, the usual rhythm of their banter falling away into something softer. It was brief, barely a second, but Shiki noticed the change. The way Caelen’s expression softened before the grin returned, as though the tenderness had slipped through before he could hide it. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
Shiki smiled, he pretended it didn't hurt. That afternoon, he coughed up three more petals.
By the end of the week, there were twelve.
By the end of the month, there were roses.
Shiki hated roses. They were too obvious, too romantic, too cruel.
They bloomed beautifully in the dark places of his lungs, their roots winding around his ribs with the patience of vines climbing an ancient shrine, their thorns catching against the inside of his throat whenever he swallowed, and every time he coughed he tasted iron and petals and the terrible sweetness of something he had never intended to confess.
He knew exactly who they belonged to.That was the worst part.
Caelen. Of course it was Caelen. It had been Caelen for longer than Shiki wanted to admit. Perhaps it had begun with something insignificant: a stupid joke during a late-night call, Caelen laughing so hard at Shiki's deadpan response that he had nearly fallen out of his chair. Perhaps it had been the first time Caelen called him without needing anything, simply because he had thought, I wonder what Shiki is doing. Perhaps it had been the way Caelen always seemed to notice when Shiki went quiet. Perhaps it had been the way he said his name.
Whatever the beginning was, Shiki had not noticed himself falling until he had already reached the bottom.
And now there were flowers growing there. Beautiful, poisonous things. Shiki became better at hiding them. He learned how to cough quietly, he learned which bathrooms were least likely to be occupied. He learned how to swallow blood without letting his expression change. He learned to keep tissues in every pocket. He learned to throw petals away before anyone could see them. He learned to smile while his lungs slowly filled.
Lamentus noticed anyway. Of course they did. It was Ash who finally said something, catching Shiki in one of those rare moments when he was alone, his attention fixed on the dim glow of his phone.
“You’ve been disappearing.” Shiki looked up from the screen, his expression giving away nothing. “Have I?” Ash watched him for a moment, as if deciding whether to let the question slide. He didn’t. “Yes.” Shiki’s gaze dropped briefly back to his phone, his thumb idly brushing across the screen. “I’ve been busy.” “You’ve been avoiding us.” There was no accusation in Ash’s voice, not exactly, but there was enough weight behind the words to make them difficult to dismiss.
Shiki paused, then gave the smallest shrug. “Also possible.” Ash’s eyes narrowed. Shiki smiled. It was a calm, almost pleasant smile, the sort that had ended conversations before they could properly begin, a quiet warning disguised as indifference. Ash, however, had always been particularly good at ignoring hints for the better good. “Shiki.” The smile remained, though something guarded settled behind it. “I’m fine.” Shiki tried to reassure the fallen angel. “You didn’t even let me finish.” “I knew where you were going.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. The room seemed quieter around them, the silence stretching into the space Shiki had left deliberately untouched. Ash studied him, searching for something beneath the practiced calm, while Shiki simply sat there with his phone in hand, looking as though the conversation had already ended.
Neither of them spoke. Then Ash sighed. "You know you don't have to handle everything alone." Something inside Shiki almost broke. Instead, he shrugged.
"I'm a Shikigami. Handling things alone is sort of my brand." Ash did not laugh. Neither did Shiki. But eventually, Ash left. Shiki waited until the door closed, then he bent over and coughed until his world went white.
Petals spilled from his mouth.
One.
Two.
Ten.
Then a whole cluster of roses, their stems slick with blood, their thorns bright against the floor. Shiki gripped the edge of the couch. His breathing came apart. "Dammit."
He pressed a hand against his chest, the flowers moving beneath his ribs. For one terrible second, he imagined reaching inside and tearing them out himself. Then he imagined Caelen's face.
He couldn't.
That was the problem. He couldn't stop loving him but he also couldn't tell him because there was nothing more humiliating than asking someone to love you because your heart had become a death sentence.
So Shiki decided he would simply die quietly. He had done worse things. He had survived longer things. He could survive this. Or, more accurately, he could endure it until he couldn't.
☆彡
Two weeks later, Caelen found out by accident. because secrets always have a way to get out in the open.
It was raining that night. The kind of rain that turned the windows black and made every sound beyond the walls feel distant, muffled beneath the endless hiss of water, and Shiki had made the mistake of thinking everyone was asleep.
He was wrong. Oh so terribly wrong. He was halfway down the hallway when the coughing started. It came suddenly, violently, tearing through him so hard that he stumbled against the wall. He clapped a hand over his mouth and something wet struck his palm. Then another. Then dozens.
He slid to the floor, vision blurry as he tried his best to get air into his lungs.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe!
“Shiki?” His heart stopped. Caelen stood at the end of the hallway, framed by the dim light spilling through the windows, and for one impossible second, neither of them moved. The rain whispered against the glass behind them, filling the silence with something almost peaceful, something that felt horribly out of place.
Then Caelen’s face changed. Concern replaced confusion so quickly that Shiki almost wished he hadn’t looked up at all. “Are you okay?!” Shiki’s fingers tightened around the rose in his hand. He could feel the petals trembling against his skin, soft and delicate despite the blood staining them. “Go away.”
Caelen’s brows pulled together as he took a step forward. “What the hell-” “Go.” There was something in Shiki’s voice this time that made the words sound less like a command and more like a plea. Caelen ignored it.
He crossed the hallway in three strides, his footsteps sharp against the floor, while Shiki tried to push himself upright. For one brief moment, he thought he could manage it. Then his knees gave out. Caelen caught him before he could hit the ground, one arm wrapping around his waist while the other steadied his shoulders. “Shiki-” And then he saw the mess in the hallway . The flowers, the blood, the white petals scattered across the floor like snow stained red, some crushed beneath their shoes, others drifting near Shiki’s trembling hands. A rose was still caught between his fingers, its stem slick with blood.
Caelen went completely still. His eyes moved from the petals to Shiki, then back again, as though refusing to understand what was directly in front of him. “No.” Shiki looked away. “Don’t.” Caelen’s breathing grew uneven. “No, no, no.” “Caelen.” “How long?” Shiki said nothing.
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the rain and the faint hum of electricity overhead. Caelen’s grip tightened around him. “How fucking long, Shiki?” Shiki closed his eyes. There was no point pretending anymore. “Long enough.” Caelen’s hands were shaking. Shiki could feel it against his back, the tremor running through his fingers despite how tightly he tried to hold him. He looked furious. Terrified. Heartbroken.
Shiki had spent months imagining this moment, turning it over in his mind until he had convinced himself he knew exactly how it would go. In every version, Caelen looked disgusted. Or frightened. Or awkward. Anything that would make it easier for Shiki to let go. He had prepared himself for rejection because rejection was simple. It had edges. It could be understood.
But Caelen didn’t look at him like that. He looked like someone had reached into his chest and torn something out with their bare hands.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Caelen's voice was quieter now. "Why didn't you tell the other's?" Shiki swallowed. “Because it isn’t your problem, nor is it theirs for that matter.” Caelen stared at him as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re coughing up flowers.” Shiki glanced down at the petals between them. “I noticed.”
Caelen looked as if he wanted to strangle the Shikigami. “You’re dying.” “I noticed that too.” “Then why are you acting like-” Shiki sighed, interrupting the other before he could finish the sentence. “Because what do you want me to do?” The words came out louder than Shiki intended, echoing down the empty hallway. Caelen fell silent. Shiki’s breathing was uneven now, his composure beginning to fracture beneath everything he had spent so long keeping buried.
When he spoke again, his voice cracked. “What do you want from me, Caelen? Do you want me to tell you the name of the person who i love so much that it is killing me? Do you want to beg the person to love me? Do you want me to make you responsible for whether I live or die?” Caelen’s expression hardened, but not with anger. With something deeper. Something desperate. “I want you to stop deciding things for me.”
Shiki stared at him. Caelen’s eyes were wet, the tears gathering there but refusing to fall. “I want you to stop looking at me like I’m some idiot who can’t figure out what’s happening.” Shiki’s breath caught. Caelen swallowed, his gaze never leaving Shiki’s face. “Is it me?” The hallway seemed to become impossibly quiet. Even the rain sounded distant now. There was only their breathing, the faint hum of electricity, and the scattered flowers lying between them like evidence of a truth neither of them could take back.
Shiki looked down at the petals. There were no more lies left. He lost count over how many he has told. “Yes.” Caelen shut his eyes. For a moment, he simply stood there, holding Shiki as though letting go might make the answer real.
Shiki gave a soft, bitter laugh. “There. Now you know.” Caelen looked at the older man. “Shiki- “Don't. Don’t say it because you feel sorry for me.” Caelen’s eyes opened again. “I don’t.” Shiki shook his head. “You don’t understand.” “I think I do.” “No, you don’t.” Shiki pushed himself away, though his legs were still too weak to carry him properly. He looked at the flowers scattered across the floor, at the blood soaking into the white petals. “You don’t know what it’s like to have something beautiful growing inside you that is slowly killing you.” Caelen stared at him for a long moment. Then, quietly, he said, “Then let me.” Shiki froze. “Let me understand.” Caelen whispered, desperation clear in the way his voice echoed back.
“You can’t.” Shiki’s eyes dropped. “Why?” There was no anger left in Caelen’s voice now. Only fear. Only hope. “Because I love you!” The confession tore out of Shiki before he could stop it. The words seemed to hang in the hallway for half a heartbeat before his body betrayed him again. Flowers spilled from his mouth. Shiki doubled over, coughing violently, and Caelen caught him once more as white petals and red stains scattered across the floor. The hallway filled with trembling hands, crushed roses, blood, and the terrible sound of someone desperately trying to breathe through a chest that had become a garden.
Caelen held him. He held him through every cough, every shudder, every painful breath. He didn’t let go when the blood stained his hands. He didn’t recoil when another petal fell between them. And when Shiki finally sagged against him, exhausted and barely conscious, Caelen lowered his head until his forehead rested against Shiki’s hair. His voice was barely more than a whisper. “I love you too.” Shiki laughed weakly, the sound broken by exhaustion. “Don’t lie.” Shiki’s eyes slipped closed.
“I’m serious.” Caelen’s arms tightened around him, as though he could hold the life inside him together through sheer force. “I’ve been in love with you for months.” Shiki went completely still. Slowly, he lifted his head. “What?” The younger man wiped away a tear that has found its way onto Shiki's cheek. “You heard me.” “No.” “Shiki.” “No.” Caelen let out a broken little laugh, the sound trembling at the edges. “Why are you saying no?” “Because if you loved me, I would have known.” Caelen’s expression crumpled. “If you truly loved me, the flowers would not be there to begin with Cae." Shiki's voice was nothing but a whisper by now.
He looked up at Caelen. The anger, the fear, and all the things Caelen had been trying so desperately to hide were written plainly across his face. "Shiki Katagmi I am in love with you, if you want to believe it or not, even if that means that I will start coughing uo flowers soon." For the first time, Shiki had no clever answer. His lips parted, but nothing came. Then, softly, almost helplessly, he whispered, “You idiot.”
Caelen gave a small, watery laugh. “Yeah.” “You absolute idiot.” Shiki’s eyes burned. “You could have told me.” Caelen hums. “So could you.” The sudden softness in Caelen’s voice made him look down. Shiki coughed again, and Caelen’s expression went white as another handful of petals fell from his mouth.
These were darker than before. More numerous. The Roses had begun to bloom. Shiki stared at them in silence before slowly looking back at Caelen. “It might be too late. I’ve had it too long.” Caelen seemed odd, not in a bad way more so determined. “We’ll get you treated.” Shiki laughed, exhaustion clear in his voice. “Caelen-”
“I’m not losing you.” The certainty in Caelen's voice made something in Shiki’s chest ache more fiercely than the flowers ever had. Caelen lifted both hands to his face, holding him gently, as though Shiki were something fragile enough to break beneath the slightest touch. “You’re not dying alone.” Shiki stared at him. His eyes burned, and for once, he didn’t try to hide it. “You promise?” Caelen’s eyes filled with tears. His hands remained steady against Shiki’s face. “I promise.”
☆彡
Caelen hated flowers, he absolutely despised them.
Before, it had been the way they made his sensitive nose tingle, the way their sweetness seemed to cling to the air long after he had walked away. He had never understood why people found them beautiful, why anyone would willingly fill a room with something that made him want to sneeze.
Now, he hated them for an entirely different reason. He hated the sight of white petals scattered across the floor, stained red with Shiki’s blood. Hated the roses tangled between trembling fingers, hated the thorns that caught against Shiki’s skin, hated the cruel irony of something so delicate being born from something so painful.
They barely made it.
That was the truth nobody liked to say afterward. The treatment, disguised as Caelen's confession came quickly, but the flowers had already spread deep into Shiki's lungs, and even after the doctors were not sure he would make it.
Caelen waited for hours, he would have waited for days if he had to. Lamentus waited with him. Liron tried to make jokes, but they fell flat. Ash kept pacing, till an exhausted nurse would snap at him. Elias read through medical information with increasingly grim concentration, occasionally muttering about complications and recovery rates until Liron gently took the papers away from him. No one slept.
When the doctor finally emerged, Caelen stood so quickly that the chair nearly fell over. "He will make a full recovery. However if your confession would have come later, young man..." The doctor drifted off and for a moment, nobody moved. Then Caelen covered his face at the same time Ash exhaled. Liron whispered something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer. Elias simply sat down.
Caelen laughed. It was a terrible sound, relieved but rather broken, almost hysterical. "Can I see him?" He asked as the laughter began to fade. "Briefly." Caelen nodded.
He entered the room alone. Shiki looked impossibly small beneath the hospital blankets.There were tubes, bandages, monitors and a faint line of bruising beneath his eyes.
Caelen sat beside him. For a while, he said nothing, then he took Shiki's hand. "You scared the shit out of me." Shiki's eyes opened a fraction. "You're loud." Caelen laughed, then the tears came. Shiki stared at him. "You're crying again."
“Shut up.” It was the only reply the Shikigami earned, spoken with a softness that betrayed the words themselves. Shiki smiled. It was small and fragile, barely there, but absolutely real, the kind of smile that seemed to exist only because, for once, he had forgotten how to hide it. Caelen watched him for a moment before slowly bowing his head until their foreheads touched. Neither of them moved. The closeness felt almost unfamiliar, despite how long they had spent circling around feelings neither had known how to name. “I meant what I said before,” Caelen murmured. “I love you.”
Shiki closed his eyes, letting the words settle somewhere deep inside him. For once, they didn’t hurt. “I know.” Caelen’s mouth curved into a faint smile. “And I’m going to keep telling you.” Shiki’s expression tightened with something almost resembling amusement. “How annoying.” “Every day.” “Please don’t.” “Every morning.” Shiki opened his eyes, giving him a tired look. “Caelen.” “Every night.” There was something warm in Caelen’s voice now, something so certain that Shiki almost wanted to believe it could last forever. Instead, he looked away. “You’ll regret this.” Caelen didn’t hesitate. He stayed close, their foreheads still resting together, his voice quiet but unwavering. “Never.”
Shiki's fingers curled weakly around his. For the first time in months, there was no pain. No thorns. No petals scratching at his throat. No blood.
Only warmth.
Only Caelen.
Only the quiet, astonishing realization that the thing which had nearly killed him was no longer something he had to carry alone.
☆彡
Recovery was slow and Shiki hated it. He hated being weak, he hated needing help and he hated the way everyone watched him whenever he coughed, even after the doctors assured them that the occasional cough was normal. But most of all, he hated being loved so openly.
Caelen brought him food and reminded him to take his medication. He also started texting him constantly.
Drink water.
Did you sleep?
Don't pretend you didn't read this.
I'm serious.
Shiki.
Shiki.
Shiki.
Eventually, Shiki replied:
You're irritating.
The response came immediately.
You're alive.
Shiki stared at the screen, then smiled. Outside the window, spring had arrived. The trees were beginning to bloom. For months, flowers had meant death, now they meant something else.
One afternoon, Caelen took him outside. They sat beneath a tree while the wind moved softly through the branches, scattering pale blossoms across the grass. Caelen looked up. "Pretty." Shiki looked at him instead. "Yeah." Caelen rolled his eyes almost immediately. "Don't be so cheesy."
Shiki laughed as he intertwined their hands. "Can't help it." "You absolutely can." A petal landed in Shiki's hair and Caelen reached over to brush it away. Shiki caught his wrist, pulling the younger closer, closing the gap between them before pressing a clumsy kiss onto Caelen's lips, missing it by a few centimeters. Caelen froze for half a second before bursting into laughter, so sudden and bright that Shiki couldn't help laughing with him. And for once, laughter did not end in coughing. No blood followed.No petals and nothing bloomed inside his lungs.
The garden was gone, the roots had been torn from him and although the scars remained, although there were nights when Shiki woke with phantom pain in his chest and remembered exactly how close he had come to dying, there was someone beside him now who knew the whole story and had stayed anyway. Someone who had chosen him. Someone who kept choosing him.
So when the wind carried flowers through the evening air, Shiki did not flinch. He simply leaned against Caelen's shoulder and watched the petals drift around them like tiny pieces of a life that had almost been lost. And when Caelen quietly intertwined their fingers again, Shiki squeezed his hand.
The flowers had once grown because he loved someone who could not love him back. Now, finally, there was nothing growing inside him at all. And somehow, that emptiness felt less like a grave than a place where something new could begin.