The suppressant, Kenma supposes, is good. It must be good, because he doesn’t cough up any more petals for three days. This time, it happens at Kuroo's house. He feels drowsy and impermanent before it happens: a muted, watercolour painting. The heaviness in his chest is worse than it had been in the club room, the first time. It feels as though his lungs are filling with water, rather than flowers. There is such weight to them.
He has enough time to say, ‘Kuro -’ before his lungs revolt, and he starts the hacking, wheezing, desperate coughs. He’s on his knees, on Kuroo's bedroom floor. He closes his eyes to block out the brittle horror of it all, but it doesn’t stop. He coughs, and coughs, and coughs, his throat fluttering in anguish against the assault - he feels the blood, and tastes the flowers. He feels the petals filling his mouth. There’s more than before. He spits them out into his hand, along with the blood. There’s more blood, too, and it’s darker.
He feels sick, and faint. Kuroo is on the floor next to him, his hand back on his shoulder, as though it’s the only place he can touch.
Kenma'’s hand is full of blood and wet, sweet petals. He gasps in as much as air as he can fit into his overcrowded lungs, but his tongue still tastes sweet and organic.
‘Who is it?’ Kuroo asks him, urgently, and their faces are very close, ‘Kenma - who -’
‘You know who it is,’ Kenma says, and spits another pretty blue petal into his hand. ‘You know -’
‘Please,’ Kuroo begs, face crumpling like a brown paper bag, ‘get the surgery - it’s -’
‘I can’t,’ Kenma says, blood and anger mixing inside his mouth, ‘don’t ever tell me to do that -’ He stands up on colt-like legs.
Kuroo lets out a hopeless sound, something like a shout and something like a sob, and leans down to wipe his eyes on his sleeve.
Kenma flushes the petals down the toilet, watching the water turn red, and the flowers are rinsed to a holy, innocent blue. He washes his hands - the water red, again, and his hands clean: non-incriminating, for now. He slumps down against the wall, head leans back. He doesn’t turn the tap off - he lets the gentle sound wash through him until he feels stronger. He doesn’t say goodbye, when he goes - he leaves without looking back.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Kuroken Angst ~ Hanahaki
FanficKenma is afflictecd with hanahaki disease- an illness borne of love believed to be unrequited- that causes him to cough up bright blue flowers. 'Whats in your hand?' Kuroos voice trembles like a violin string. he already knows.
