Anonymous Drabbles

Hanahaki: a Tragedy in Bloom

Gods can die. Immortality isn't a given. When they die however, that is when you know the end is nigh. When gods die it means that people are losing hope, losing faith. Love is like a personal god, something you keep with you, savouring because you know it means a lot.

My love for him is strong. It doesn't matter though; he doesn't know about it. He'll never need to know. It's not like he'll reciprocate. Unrequited love, it really is horrible. People know it's bad, that's why they invented a "fictional" disease – Hanahaki – as a way to represent it, because it feels like you are dying every day. If Hanahaki was real, many people would be dead and so many more would have to live knowing they are the reason someone died.

I think I would be one of the fallen. Heartstrings broken, lungs filled with flowers in bloom, hopefully laid to rest somewhere peaceful, so my blossoms can grow undisturbed. This is how I think my story would go.

~*~

I wake up as normal, my chest feels a little bit tighter than usual but I think nothing of it, people feel like this all the time, maybe I slept wrong. Feeling a little bit off, I get up and get ready for the day. I do my normal morning routine and everything seems fine, I don't even register the tightness in my chest anymore. I get to school and everything is fine. Then I see him. Suddenly my body convulses and I am bent over coughing. Nothing comes up but I know something is wrong. I get up, dust myself off and act like everything is fine. He doesn't think anything of it, I can see it, in how swiftly he moves on.

My coughing slowly gets worse as days go by, but nothing actually comes up during the coughing fits. After about a week though, the cough gets significantly worse and I start coughing blood. Initially, it isn't much, but it's enough for the blood to become splatters in my palm or on a tissue. None of my friends know though, they barely even know about the coughing. I can't tell anyone that I might have Hanahaki disease; they'd tell him so that they can save me. I don't want him to be forced to pretend he loves me, it would make the disease worse and he'd be uncomfortable. I don't want that.

Another week passes, and I confirm exactly why I'm coughing. At first, I thought nothing much about the blood, just sickness that should pass. Then there was more blood. And more. And more. Soon, the first petal fell. White jasmine; sweet love. I panic. I clearly have Hanahaki disease. How could I have let this happen? Why does it have to be him? He won't love me. He can't love me. This is ridiculous. Of all the people in the world to be cursed to die to flowers, why does it have to be me, and why does it have to be because of him?

It's going to be hard to hide the disease from my friends now that the petals are coming up, but if I keep tissues on me, I should be able to keep it hidden. I tell no one, they'd all just try and save me. I do research on Hanahaki, trying to see how long I can keep it under wraps for. The hardest bit is still to come, coughing up the full blossoms.

His best friend is the first to find out. He catches me in the bathroom with a bloody sink full of petals. I don't tell him who they're for, but he still gives me a sympathetic look. He asks who else knows. I stay silent as an answer, and he realises what is happening. He shoots me a look of sympathy and leaves the bathroom. I clean the sink, crying, because he wasn't supposed to find out.

Naturally the friend tells him about my disease, they tell each other everything, and word gets round the friend group. My best friend approaches me with a concerned face. She's not angry, she's in mourning. She knows everything. She knows I've accepted my fate.

Everywhere I go I get sorrowful looks, apparently word got round the school. The worst feeling is the looks I get from him. He looks so sad, and it hurts knowing he doesn't know he is the reason I'm going to die. Eventually I convince myself to let him know, but I won't tell him. I just won't hide it. Since everyone knows I have the disease, I get special permission to leave classes in an emergency, and teachers are aware I have the disease, so nobody questions the bloodstained jasmine petals littering the campus.

I let him know subtly. By this time there are small blossoms falling from my mouth, and I have given up on hiding it. Everyone around slowly catches on to the fact that I start having a coughing fit every time I see him. Everyone except him. People start commenting on it. I ignore them. They ask me if I'm going to tell him. I walk away. I never wanted this disease and the attention I'm getting because of it makes me sick.

Eventually people start asking him about it. Have I told him? How does he feel about it? Does he feel guilty? Initially he is very confused. Then he starts putting the pieces together. He realises who my flowers are for. He knows that he is the one killing me.

He pulls me to the side one day, and he brings it up. I start coughing. It's never been like this before. This time I know its bad. The worst it's ever been. I have to bend over double and my hands support my body so that I'm not lying in the blood below me. Blood and petals cascade out of my mouth, the white contrasting with the red. Tiny buds also appear and I start to panic, eyes wide. My lungs are burning and I can feel them being ripped apart. Something makes its way up my trachea, my coughs pushing it along. A large, fully bloomed white jasmine flower falls out of my mouth and lands in the pool of blood. I take a few seconds for me to cough up the last of the petals and blood before I compose myself.

I look at the mess I created. I look around to see if anyone is watching, and I see that I've become the centre of attention. I feel tears burning at my eyes and my breathing gets rapid. I'm crying. The pain is too much. My lungs are burning and my emotions are making me dizzy. He tries to comfort me. He sits down across from me, the pool of blood and flowers between us. He gestures toward it and asks a simple question. "Why?"

I tell him what I can manage. I tell him why I didn't want him to know – he can't love me back; why I didn't let anyone know I had the disease – they'd try to protect me; and why I love him, because of how perfect he is. I don't even try hiding my tears. I can no longer hide my feelings from him. The bell is ringing but we stay seated – I'm a special case. He asks about everything and I answer honestly, I don't want to hide anymore.

After a long conversation, he stands up and offers me his hand. I pick up the bloodied flower from the ground and take his hand. He takes me to the school nurse and waits for me to go home. As I leave, I see him wipe his eyes in an effort to hide his tears.

Once I'm home I cast the flower in resin. It's a gift, a symbol of my love for him and a token of appreciation for him not outright rejecting me. Once the cast is made and setting, I go to take a nap. I start coughing. It's similar to the last fit with him, but more intense. I can tell that there will be more than one full blossom this time.

I phone my best friend. She picks up but I can't say anything, my airway is blocked and I'm too busy coughing. She starts panicking and calling out to me. I can't get a response out between coughs. My lungs are burning and I'm crying. In front of me I see a pool of blood, petals, small budding flowers, and large blossoms mixing with a puddle of my tears. The call with my friend had ended apparently, and the last thing I remember seeing was an incoming call on my phone.

I wake up in a hospital bed, and I look around for other patients. I see that I'm in a Hanahaki ward. He is there. Apparently, my best friend called for an ambulance to come and pick me up so that I didn't die at home. He tells me that the doctors say I have very little time left. He grasps my hand. This time he doesn't try to hide his tears as he apologises for hurting me. I smile softly at him. I assure him that this hurt less than it would have if he had pretended to love me.

I feel another coughing fit coming on and I urge him to leave. I know that this will be my last fit, my lungs are raw and I feel lightheaded. He stays, crying because he knows what is coming. I start hacking up blood, flowers and bits of my lungs. He starts panicking, calling for doctors and nurses. He lies against me, trying to comfort me as my body kills itself. I lose track of everything as I feel his body against mine one last time. The last thing I register is one simple sentence. "I wish I could have loved you."

[1659 words]

A/N
so.. this one is a bit longer than usual...
basically i had a lot of feelings to let out and hanahaki is cool
the first section is just my personal opinion of love, i just wanted to share it