Pretty Boy (bokuaka)

6) Cry it Out

"Keiji, what happened? Why was it so much worse this time?" My mother asked, grabbing and holding my face gently with worry.

"It's best not to ask about it, he could be triggered into another attack by thinking about it," Toshiaki told her.

She let go of my face and stepped to the side so my father could see me. He stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "You look terrible," he choked out, eyes red. "What is it you wanted to talk about?"

I swallow past my anxiety, my throat aching in the process. "I want the surgery," I break to them as plainly as I can. They don't look surprised, just glance at each other and mom nods.

Dad looks back at me. "Okay," he says with a nod. "Okay, we can set that up. Just- can you try to stay away from Bokuto more? This is the second time it's been really bad. I don't want it to happen again."

I nod, even thkugh I dont want to keep my distance, I see where he's coming from. "Yeah. I get it."

"Doctor Toshiaki," mom got the man's attention. "When is the soonest you can do the procedure? Are there any risks we should know about too?"

He nods. "We can likely do it as soon as Tuesday this coming week," he pauses grimly. "I would recommend the surgery but it is a risk because of the damage done to his diaphragm due to the flowers. It's not likely that he'll die, but there could be some permanent effects. Due to his extracurricular activities, I would say you should consider your options." He turns to me then, "you could be permanently put on the sidelines if this doesn't go our way."

I take a deep breath, it hitches slightly, proving just how damaged my airways were at this point. I nod, understanding, "I have to do it." I sound confident, but being honest, I'm not. I'm shaking in my boots but it doesn't show. "I could die if this goes on longer, right?"

I see a few tears run down my mother's face at how casually I had said it.

The doctor takes a deep breath and gives a curt nod."That is true. It may be your best chance to live."

"Then we're definitely doing it," dad says with a serious deadpan. "Can we start getting things in order now?"

"Yes. You can follow me."

"You stay here," dad said and kissed mom's cheek before following the doctor out of the room. With the door shut, mom looked down at me as I sat anxiously. She was still crying silently.

"Mom-"

"Are you okay with this?" she blurts out before I can even finish calling her name.

I take another scratching breath and sip at the water that's still held in my shaking hand. "Mom. I have to, I may end up dying to this disease if I don't-" she inhales shaply but I just continue "-I didn't tell you or dad, but it's been getting worse lately. The smallest things would set it off, like when I first got it, but this time I can't breathe at all. Eating hurts because of how raw my throat has been stripped. And at the party- Jesus, the party-" I cough but not because of a flower, my windpipe is just that sore. My voice isn't even what it used to be because of this stupid disease.

She sits next to me on the cot and rubs circles on my back.

I think about telling her what happened at the party, the reason we're even sitting in a hospital room right now, and that triggers the hanahaki. I begin to cough, just as violently as earlier tonight. My breaths become quick and shallow, struggling to fulfil me behind the petals.

Four minutes ticked by on the clock, my mom humming through her quiet sobs.

When I finally believe that it's over, I take a large drink of the water in my cup, almost drinking it all.

"What was it, sweetie," she asks when she sees I can finally get in a successful breath.

"He," I pause, wondering if another coughing fit will overcome me. I hold my hand to my lips softly when it doesn't happen. "He kissed me-" I choke out, almost whispering the words. Tears come to my eyes as I remember what he said just before.

"Come on, we're just friends, it won't mean anything."

Those words hurt me more than he can imagine, emotionally and physically. The salty liquid of my waterline spilled over as a million thoughts barreled through my mind and I leaned into my mother, she wrapped her arms around me tightly as I sobbed.

"It-" I sob, continueing. "It was a stupid dare- he didn't- it didn't mean anything to him-..."

She starts to sway, pulling me along with her. "But it did to you.."

I nod as my tears soak into her shirt fabric but she doesn't care, she only hold me tighter.

"Mom," I cry. "Why- why does he not love me the way I do him..? Am I that bad of a person? Am I just unlovable?"

She shakes her head against mine, "no sweetie," she whispers. "No, not at all. He's just too blind to see how he feels, I bet that's what it is. He is kind of a dumb one, isn't he?" she cracks a joke to lighten the mood and it works. It makes me smile.

"Yeah," I sob before sniffling. "Yeah, he is pretty dumb." The joke is short-lived as my depressing thoughts return. Even if he is dumb, I think, he should still be able to recognize love. But he just doesn't love me. I know that.