𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔

Suffocating

So this is a Hanahaki disease AU since I'm in love with the whole concept. Incase you dont know what it is, here is a quick description -

"Hanahaki is a fictional disease where the victim of unrequited or one sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated"

This is going to be more than one part seeing as this is v short and is v v vague but I want yall to help me decide how to end it!

She never expected the day to come, only ever thought it was a myth. A fable to teach innocent girls and boys not to fall in love with people who didn't love them back, to guard their hearts and manifest their love in other things. Protect themselves, stay empty and numb, don't dare feel anything but void and useless for you may reach the day when your heart begins to wither, and lungs begin to suffocate you.

Y/n had been sitting at her desk, watching as Spencer rambled excitedly about a Russian film he had seen. She admired how his amber eyes shone like stagnant aurelian rivers, his hickory curls bounced and blew as his hands swayed with glee. Suddenly a sharp pain shot through y/n's chest, her hand cradled it tightly, gasping as a tight, buzzing sensational spread through her lungs and the desperate need to cough tickled at her throat.

Spencer had seen her as she began to cough, quickly sprinting over to her, placing a thin hand on her knee as he checked her temperature. Each time his fingers made contact with her skin, every time a word slipped through his chapped lips, the subtle suffocating feeling grew stronger, and another pain would surge through her lungs. Y/n smiled and shook her head, hiding how her eyes shone with tears as the realization crept upon her. She had always been warned not to be so foolish, to fall in love with someone who would never reciprocate. But the soft smiles and bright eyes that came with loving Spencer Reid had lured her in, like a siren, and now y/n was the poor sailor, destined to drown for giving in to the tempting call.

The day her suspicions had been confirmed, she had been with the man himself. They had been sitting on his couch, Spencer's arm wrapped tightly around y/n's shoulders as she reveled in the warmth of his hold. Trying to ignore the tickling in her lungs, feeling as feathery touches made their way up until she had no choice but to cough. Y/n felt the petal touch her hand, a silken touch that held such a sinister meaning behind the innocence. A deep crimson sepal sat in her palm, contrasting with the skin of her trembling hand.

"You okay?" His brows were furrowed, a frown set hard on his lips. His rugged curls hung before his worried eyes; their honey kissed umber shade matching the gentle freckles that painted his skin like the sweetest constellations. Y/n coughed again, feeling another petal fall into her hand before she scrunched them up and nodded weakly at Spencer.

"I'm fine, my drink just went down the wrong way" She smiled brokenly at Spencer, accepting her fate as she felt the vines creep through her lungs, spreading, blooming. It was morbidly beautiful, the knowledge of what was happening inside her. How each flower gleamed bright, shining in the glow of her love, but in order for the flowers to grow they had to seep the life from y/n.

He grinned sleepily at her before settling back into his seat. For a moment, y/n had thought that perhaps he had loved her back, that the sleight of hand, the precious blushes, meant even a fraction as much to him as it did to her. But as each petal bloomed, so did a deep-rooted hatred for herself. How could she have been so foolish? To so easily have gifted her life to this man who she knew didn't love her back.

As she walked home that night, it had grown so much stronger, no longer a subtle vellication, now an agonizing burn that ravaged her throat as the breath slipped from her lungs. It wasn't enough to kill her yet, but torturous enough to bring her to her knees. To make her scream and beg for mercy, to remind her just how alone she was. A dozen vermillion calyxes poured from her lips, blowing so innocently away in the wind. Y/n grasped at her throat, begging for it just to end, for the ache in her heart and heaviness in her chest to relieve for a moment.

Each rose petal, its lustrous touch all too similar to the lips she had craved for so long. The very kiss that was killing her slowly, pulling each breath from her body, each fragment of light from her eyes, was the only thing that could save her now. For Spencer was both her demise and her salvation. An angel of death and a seraph of heaven, cruel yet comforting, so austere but nevertheless unbearably passionate. Y/n wished she hated him, longed to curse his name and feel nothing but rage towards her darling doctor. But yet again, her heart and soul craved him, well and truly needed him to survive.

However, there's always a flip side, when one is picking apart a flower, ripping each petal from its stem and praying that they're loved back. There's always yet another to fall, for they may love them for that moment, but the second another is pulled, the love is gone.

They love me.

They love me not.

She loves him.

He loves her not.

Now that you've read, i need your help deciding how the next part should end.

A) Spencer loves y/n back and the flowers go away.

B) The flowers are surgically removed, but so is y/n's capability to feel love and she loses all memories of Spencer.

C) Spencer doesn't love y/n back and she's left to suffocate as the flowers grow too large.