Work Text:
when jihoon vomits onto his carpet in the form of flower petals for the first time on a wintery night in the middle of december -- sunflower petals -- he wonders if this was some kind of rouse.
even when jihoon wheezed, dug his nails into his throat while wrenching every petal he could feel choking his windpipe onto his carpet, he wonders if this was all just one big joke god was playing on him. for the first few hours after the first time it happened, he could only deny deny deny.
but denial isn't pretty. it'd be a lie if he said he was fine when in actuality, he could barely breathe with a sunflower restricting his organs and having its petals lodged in his thin throat. it'd be a lie if he said he couldn't feel himself already progressively dying. it'd be a lie to deny that this was only occurring because he allowed himself to fall in love with kwon soonyoung.
how did he know it was kwon soonyoung?
well, who else could it have been?
they've known each other since middle school. it was the cliche story of a popular, boisterous kid being the friend of the quiet, withdrawn one. while everyone was intimidated by jihoon's stern and cynical nature developed after his parents' leaving, soonyoung was always present to bother him with his exuberant behavior before he could dive into deeper thoughts. they grew up together at that point. they both seemed to follow each other to the same high school, the same college (but different majors), same classes, etc. while he attempted many times to push him away, out of his life so he would not burden him no more, he always returned with his arms around him tighter than ever. it became practically necessary for soonyoung to introduce jihoon to his friends because god forbid him if he left jihoon by himself.
(they were fun people, but nothing could compare to the times he spent with soonyoung. not really.)
jihoon did not remember when he realized his feelings for soonyoung, but it has been a while since the feelings have been there. he felt the palpitations in his heart that made him feel like he was dying when soonyoung texted him, called him or hung out with him. he realized the likeliness of red coloring his pale cheeks if he were to think about him over anyone else and that he wouldn't mind if his hands were all over his scrawny body. he did not think it was ironic when soonyoung nicknamed himself to be hoshi because he truly did shine like a star in the night and the sun in the day.
at some point, he realized it wasn't just a simple school crush, but an earth crushing love.
and besides, jihoon would be a shit friend not to remember, but soonyoung's favorite flower was always the sunflower.
jihoonie, guess what? guess what? i'm going out with seokmin now!! this is a dream come true!
jihoon smiles bitterly at his phone screen. why did he torture himself with looking at the message that started it all? why did he have to check his phone at all? (even if he didn't, would it have even made a difference? because soonyoung wasn't with him, wouldn't he still be puking an entire flower bed?)
he lowers his gaze to stare at his reply, the biggest lie he has ever told before he collapses with a flurry of red stained sunflower petals pouring from his throat --
that's great, i'm happy for you.
he was not happy. not at all.
the thought of soonyoung is the only thing that keeps triggering the vomiting of bloody sunflowers. he barely sees soonyoung nowadays because he was spending so much time with his boyfriend, but he wondered if that was for the best. (it is.) he wouldn't dare to allow soonyoung to see him like this -- weak, defeated and dying ever so slowly. he knew how caring and emotional soonyoung could be, but he would only make things worse if he saw him as he is right now.
his care would give him false hope that maybe something else could blossom instead of the sunflowers in his lungs.
it is kind of ironic, really, now that he thinks about it. it was a little disturbing to stare at those bloody flowers on the floor, but he couldn't help but do so every time he threw up them up. he didn't need to use google to understand what it meant because it was so obvious -- happiness.
what happiness was jihoon getting out of this?
or was it soonyoung that was happy? without him.
with that thought, he cradled the entire flower he had spit out to his cheek and cried so that his tears mixed with the blood on the petals.
soonyoung comes without notice one day. he assumes that he had stopped by to share some happy news to his best friend.
jihoon realizes that he should have never gave him the spare key to his apartment.
because when he sees the puked flowers on the floor, his eyes widen into plates and he is crouching beside jihoon, who is curled up into a small ball in the corner of the living room.
"why did you never tell me, jihoonie? i was always a call or a text away! hell, i'd even cancel my dates with seokmin to take care of you ... oh my gosh, jihoonie ..." soonyoung cries, his arms wrapping around jihoon's smaller form and he wonders whether he should shove him away to prevent this pain or accept his embrace while fully knowing it'll be difficult to recover in the next hour. he feels another wave of choking nausea in his throat that comes out just as violently as ever while soonyoung sympathetically rubs what is meant to be comforting circles on his back. "can you tell me who it is? maybe i can help!"
IT'S YOU, jihoon sobs in his mind.
and with those thoughts, he vomits again instead of sharing a reply until he can barely make out the designs in his carpet.
"so you didn't tell him?"
jihoon has always seen jeonghan as a motherly figure. thankfully, it didn't seem like the other minded either, as if he wouldn't have it any other way. but as a motherly figure, it'd be normal to sense the disappointment laced around the man's words when jihoon reveals his situation to him. jihoon's gaze is focused on the coffee in front of him instead of the piercing gaze being sent his way.
yes, he knew that what he was doing -- not being truthful and not getting the surgery -- was going to kill him.
he would die loving kwon soonyoung. he realized, prior to meeting with jeonghan at starbucks, that he wouldn't mind if he died in such a way. he would throw up an entire garden for him.
(the phrase i love you to death is hitting pretty close to home now.)
"would it have made a difference if i did?" jihoon replies, sounding more nonchalant than he really was. jeonghan stares. he decides to continue speaking with a forlorn smile, "i'm already too far gone, jeonghan. i can feel myself dying. it's too hard to even breathe these days because flowers are in my lungs and soonyoung was my air. even the surgeons can't help me at this point because the vines are embedded so deep into my bones and organs that i would internally bleed if i did the surgery. in my last couple of days, i don't want to listen to him cry and whine about how its his fault because i chose to tell him that the person i'm literally dying for is him. instead, i ... i want him to be happy, whether it is with me or his boyfriend or whatever."
"but to the point where you're sacrificing your own happiness? jihoon, you're dying."
"i'm aware."
jeonghan scowls at how flippant he is being with the situation.
"i want him to be happy," jihoon repeats, a mere echo.
"his best friend dying because he fell in love with him will not make him happy, jihoon."
yeah ... that's all he really was to soonyoung, wasn't it?
soonyoung, are you busy? can you do me a favor?
it was impulsive of him to use the last bits of his energy to text his love, the reason all of this started. jihoon didn't even know if it'd speed up the process. most likely, since he could feel the bubble of petals dipper in bloody bile rising in his throat once again. he could barely pick himself off the floor. red invades his vision, he feels the slick disgusting liquid of his lifeblood on his skin as he lays in the bush of sunflowers he had vomited.
his vision was fading. he could barely see the fan attached to his ceiling.
yea, jihoonie? are you okay?
no he wasn't.
he was dying.
dying was not as peaceful as people made it out to be. he just wished it would retrieve him faster.
he wheezes, struggling to type in a response. blood smears on the screen of his phone. his phone tumbles out of jihoon's hands the moment he presses send. he doesn't bother to try and retrieve it from beside him. even in his last moments, he hoped and hoped and hoped.
can you tell me you love me?
he doesn't even have to mean it.
yeah! i love you! you're my special best friend! <3
why? is there something wrong?
... jihoon?
like a bird leaving its feathers, the flower petals puffs out of his throat and into the air. each yellow petal soaked in red swirls in the air, several landing lightly onto his body and the others landing around his figure. he is too weak to flip onto his side, so he allows the acidic bile and blood suffocate him.
his phone vibrates incessantly beside his arm, but no reply will be given.