Chapter Text
Seongje woke up that morning with petals tangled in his bedsheets. He didn't own any flowers. He picked one up and twisted it between his fingers before dropping it. He stared at them for a few more seconds before getting up.
He showered, got dressed, and left his bedroom without bothering to clean the petals up. Maybe they'd fallen out of someone's pocket, or maybe he'd tracked them into his apartment without noticing. There were dozens of explanations that made more sense than the prospect of flowers randomly appearing in his bed at night.
He was brushing his teeth when he started coughing. Sometimes people cough when they brush their teeth, he didn't think anything of it. Except, the tickle in his throat didn't just go away with a cough.
He leaned over the sink and coughed once, twice, as many times as it took for the tickle in his throat to finally subside. He spat into the sink.
Three small petals floated in the toothpaste foam.
He stared at it.
"…What?"
He rinsed his mouth and ran the water until the petals disappeared down the drain. Weird.
By the time he started eating breakfast, he'd almost forgotten about it.
Almost.
His throat felt weird when he swallowed. He drank some water, waited for it to pass, then continued eating.
Then he coughed again.
This time, he felt something catch against his tongue. He pulled it out.
It was a petal. The same color as all of the others. He held it between his fingers, then looked back at his plate.
Suddenly, his appetite was gone.
He pushed the plate away from him. He stood, grabbed his jacket, and headed for the door. He didn't know where he wanted to go, but when did he ever?
Once outside, he shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking.
There wasn't anywhere in particular he wanted to be, he just knew he didn't want to be home. The petals were still sitting on his bed because he had been too lazy to clean them up, but he didn't feel like looking at them again anyway.
He ended up at the convenience store. It wasn't exactly what he meant when he said he wanted to go somewhere, but it would do.
Seongje wandered through the aisles without really looking at anything. He picked up a bottle of water, stared at it, then set it down. His throat still felt sore, maybe something cold would help. He picked it back up.
He paid and stepped outside. It was considerably colder than it had been when he'd walked in. Maybe a cold drink wasn't the right move.
That may have been one of his more stupid ideas. He didn't know why he thought drinking cold water on a cold day would help him at all.
Whatever.
He unscrewed the cap and took a sip.
Nothing.
He almost scoffed, but it came out as a cough instead. Seongje turned from the store, covering his mouth with his sleeve. When he pulled his arm away, there were two petals clinging to his sleeve. He brushed them away, annoyed.
"Are you actually sick?"
Seongje froze, the voice all to familiar to him. He looked up and sure enough, Hyuntak was standing there, just a few feet away.
When did he even get there? Seongje hadn't noticed him.
"What?" he said.
Hyuntak rolled his eyes. "I said, are you sick?"
"No."
Hyuntak raised an eyebrow.
"You were just coughing."
"Right, because clearing my throat means I have the plague."
"You literally just hacked up a lung, you might as well."
Seongje couldn't exactly argue with that, but who was he if not stubborn.
"Mind your business."
"I was, but I don't want to be responsible for a death."
"I'm fine." Seongje said, his voice clipped.
He wasn't sure why he was being so defensive about it. Maybe it was because Hyuntak was staring too intently. Maybe it was because the tickle in his throat had only intensified since he'd started talking.
Seongje swallowed. The feeling wouldn't go away.
"Whatever," he muttered, stepping around Hyuntak.
He fought the urge to cough, and that was probably the most effort he'd ever put into anything.
Hyuntak sighed behind him.
"You're a terrible liar."
Seongje ignored him. Once he was down the block and sure that Hyuntak was gone, only then did he allow himself to cough. It was easily the worst one yet. Not only because of the way it seemed to vibrate in his chest, but because of the amount of petals in his hand once he pulled it away from his face.
Maybe something really was wrong with him. He quickly tried to dismiss that thought. It was fall, so there were lots of flowers that fell all the time. However, even as he tried to reason with himself, he knew that couldn't be right.
The cold air helped a little. Or at least, that's what he was trying to tell himself. His throat still felt wrong. Like someone swapped it out for a tube of sandpaper. He took another sip of the water, but it didn't help.
Was it an allergic reaction? Bullshit. He wasn't allergic to anything — at least, nothing he was aware of — but even if he was, what kind of allergy caused people to cough up flowers?
He stopped walking.
Flowers.
Seongje looked down at his hand. There were still some crumpled petals stuck to his palm. He rubbed them between his fingers and watched them flatten.
There was no way.
He dropped them into a nearby trashcan, along with the bottle of water, and shoved his hands back into his pockets. He wished he had brought a cigarette.
By the time he got back to his apartment, his thoat wasn't feeling as bad. That was good.
He kicked off his shoes by the door and tossed his windbreaker onto the couch. The apartment was the exact same as it would've been any other day. His eyes wandered to his bedroom. He should probably clean up the petals now.
Out of sight, out of mind.
So instead, he dropped onto the couch and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through it without really looking at anything. He considered playing a game, but decided against it.
He swallowed, trying to get rid of the strange sensation in his throat completely. No such luck.
Seongje frowned and leaned his head against the couch. Maybe he actually was sick. That was annoying. He stared at his phone for another few seconds before opening the browser.
He didn't know what he was expecting to find. Some kind of explanation, probably. An allergy, an infection, literally anything.
He typed:
Why am I coughing up flowers?
Surprisingly, there were many articles that popped up.
"What the fuck."
He clicked on the first one.
If you find yourself coughing up flowers, you may have developed what is called Hanahaki disease.
Hanahaki disease is a rare condition in which flowering petals develop within the respiratory system of the affected individual. Early symptoms commonly include persistent coughing, throat irritation, and the expectoration of petals. As the condition progresses, individuals may experience difficulty breathing, chest pain, and reduced lung function.
Hanahaki is traditionally associated with unrequited romantic attachment. In some cases, symptoms resolve when the affected feelings become mutual. In other cases, feelings were mutual the entire time, but were hidden by one or both individuals. Surgical removal of the growth may be possible, though it can result in the permanent loss of the emotions associated with the disease.
That might have been the stupidest thing Seongje had ever read. Unfortunately, it was also exactly what was happening to him.
Flowers growing in his lungs because he was in love with someone.
Ridiculous.
He wasn't in love. He'd never been in love. So if this stupid disease was real, what the fuck caused it?
He thought about it for a moment. He drew a blank. Maybe it would be easier if he started crossing people out, in true headmistress style.
Friends? He almost laughed. He didn't really have any. No family either. He hadn't dated anyone, and he hadn't met anyone new recently. He stared at the screen. He was getting nowhere.
Maybe he was missing something.
He scrolled back up and reread the article.
Unrequited romantic love.
The unrequited part wasn't a surprise to him. He was already sure that unless someone was incredibly insane, there wasn't anyone that loved him. Which wasn't sad, it was just a universal truth.
Romantic attachment, though.
He hadn't given it much thought before. Sure, he'd probably liked people before, well, he assumed he had. But liking someone and being in love with them are completely different things.
He started going through names in his head.
No.
No.
Definitely not.
…
Hyuntak?
He scoffed. Absolutely not.
The thought was so ridiculous, he almost laughed in its absurdity. They'd spent more time trying to piss each other off than do whatever this article meant by romantic attraction.
Was he thinking about it too literally?
Romantic attraction didn't necessarily have to mean he liked someone. Maybe it could be something else. An obsession, or attachment, maybe.
Seongje frowned. They were probably synonymous to romantic attraction. That was no help at all.
Besides, what did he know about romantic attraction.
He started thinking about Hyuntak again.
He knew what time Hyuntak got out of school, but only because they got out at similar times. He knew what convenience store Hyuntak frequented, but only because he went to the same one. He knew that Hyuntak was stubborn and hated when someone tore down his ego, but only because of their fights when Seongje was still part of the Union.
So, he knew a lot of things about Hyuntak. It wasn't weird though, they'd known each other for a long time.
Seongje leaned back against the couch.
Besides, he didn't even like Hyuntak, and Hyuntak couldn't stand him. He liked getting on Hyuntak's nerves, though. Which was a different thing entirely.
It was just entertainment. Hyuntak was so easy to annoy. That was it.
He looked back at the article.
Symptoms may resolve when the affected feelings become mutual.
"Bullshit."
He locked his phone and tossed it on the couch beside him. It couldn't be Hyuntak. He was sure of that.
He'd figure out who it was, he'd just have to pay more attention.
The next morning, Seongje had decided not to give the article much thought. Well, that wasn't exactly right. He'd spent too much time thinking about the article. But he had decided that spiraling over an article probably written by a thirteen year old was stupid and quite embarrasing.
He was also almost able to convince himself it was a dream, until he coughed again while eating. The petals landed on the table right next to his cup of ramen.
"Amazing," he mumbled.
He pushed the cup away and got up.
The rest of the morning passed by uneventfully, save for the petals he kept coughing up. By noon, he found himself at the convenience store. He stood near the entrance, smoking a cigarette.
"You're blocking the only door."
Seongje turned to find Hyuntak standing there, clearly annoyed.
"Tough luck," Seongje said.
Hyuntak huffed. "Move."
"Just walk around me."
Hyuntak clearly did not like that answer and instead, he shoved Seongje aside.
Seongje watched him disappear through the doors before taking another drag from his cigarette. He'd barely exhaled when his throat started itching again.
He frowned and swallowed, but the feeling only got worse.
Seongje glanced throught the glass doors.
Hyuntak was standing in front of the refrigerators, staring at the drinks.
Seongje looked away.
It was probably the cigarette. He'd been coughing all morning anyway, so there was no reason to connect the two.
He took another drag.
The itch only intensified.
"Fuck."
Seongje flicked the cigarette to the ground and crushed it beneath his heel.
It was just the cigarette. And it made sense.
His throat had been bothering him all morning, and smoking probably wasn't helping. That was a pretty obvious explanation. One that didn't involve flowers growing inside him because of "romantic attraction."
He took a breath.
His throat felt brittle.
Seongje shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped away from the entrance. He could leave. It wasn't like he needed anything anyway. It was more that he knew he'd find some sort of entertainment here.
Then the door opened. Hyuntak walked out.
"You're still here," he asked, though he didn't phrase it as a question.
"In the flesh," Seongje replied.
Hyuntak rolled his eyes. "Do you get off to the fact that people dislike you?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Hyuntak clicked his tongue.
Seongje smirked. "You can just go, you know."
He thought Hyuntak would say something, but instead, he just flipped Seongje off and stomped away.
He watched Hyuntak cross the parking lot, the plastic bag swinging loosely from his hand. Seongje looked away before he could think too much about it.
The itch in Seongje's throat returned.
It was just the cigarette.
He pulled out another cigarette, then stopped. After a second, he put it back. Seongje started walking home instead.
About halfway down the block, Seongje couldn't keep it in anymore and coughed. He hadn't coughed up that many flowers before, not that coughing up flowers was particularly normal.
But besides the quantity of the petals, they were different than the others.
They were larger, and they were bloody.
By the time Seongje got home, he'd almost forced himself not to think about it.
The blood was just another symptom. A worse one, yes, but a symptom nonetheless.
He kicked off his shoes and dropped his keys onto the counter. The apartment was quiet, as per usual, but something about it was slightly off-putting. But then again, everything had been off-putting that day.
So besides that, the apartment was pretty normal, which was good.
Seongje walked into his bedroom and stopped. There were still petals on his desk.
They'd been there since the night before. He had been playing a game, and had gotten too lazy to throw away the petals he coughed up during it.
He stared at them.
If they had looked strange before, now they looked almost threatening. NOw that he'd seen them covered in blood.
Seongje scoffed.
A few petals shouldn't make him feel that way.
He'd already decided he wasn't going to think about the article anymore. He read it. He knew what it said. He probably couldn't forget even if he tried to. There wasn't much point in reading it again.
Unfortunately, knowing that didn't stop him from pulling out his phone.
He opened the browser. The article was still in his history.
He stared at it for a few seconds before opening it.
As the condition progresses—
He stopped reading. He knew what came next.
Chest pain.
Difficulty breathing.
Reduced lung function.
He locked his phone and tossed it onto his bed.
This was stupid. The entire thing.
Flowers didn't grow inside people's lungs because they were in love. That was something made up for stories, not something that happened to actual people.
But it was the closest thing to an explanation he was going to get.
Seongje looked at the petals again.
He briefly thought of seeing a doctor, but he quickly dismissed the idea.
Setting aside his history with the Union and hospitals, he couldn't exactly go up to any doctor and say, "Hi. I've been coughing up flowers."
They'd think he was crazier than he was.
Or even worse, they'd believe him.
Seongje sighed and swiped his hand across his desk, dumping all of the flowers into the bin. Well, almost all.
He was sick. But he would get better.
There was no reason to think about anything else.
Seongje looked at the petal he'd picked up and, against his better jusgement, remembered the convenience store.
Hyuntak standing in the doorway.
His expression when Seongje's words had hit their mark.
Seongje dropped the petal into the trash.
No.
He wasn't doing that again.
He walked back to the living room and dropped onto the couch.
There was no way he could get a disease just because he apparantly liked someone. And there was no way it'd be Hyuntak.
Seongje stared at the ceiling.
Fine.
It wasn't Hyuntak, so who could it be?
He went through names again, but none of them made any sense.
Every time he tried to think of reasons he could like another person, his thoughts circled back to Hyuntak.
It didn't have to mean anything, though.
They'd known each other for years. It was normal. To be expected. Anyone would start to learn mannerisms of someone they'd known for so long.
Except—
He knew what Hyuntak's voice sounded like when he was annoyed, and what expression Hyuntak made when he was trying not to laugh.
He knew which insults he could say to actually bother Hyuntak, and he knew which ones he'd pretend not to care about.
He knew when Hyuntak was lying, when he was tired, and he knew when something was wrong.
Seongje stared at the ceiling.
He'd been telling himself that it was normal for days. That he only noticed things because Hyuntak was irritating, and he only remembered because they'd known each other for so long.
But none of those explanations really worked anymore, and the longer he thought about it, the crazier he felt.
Seongje closed his eyes.
"Fuck."
He liked him.
The thought was horrifyingly simple.
Seongje liked Hyuntak.