Yongsun paced back and forth outside the operation area, nails constantly digging in her palms to ground herself into the moment. The noise in the hospital hall felt distant; there was only her heartbeat and the otherwise deafening silence ringing in her ears. She glanced at the see-through gap occasionally, just for its own sake as she couldn't see anything beyond a space where the equipment was located. Byulyi was lying somewhere inside, unconscious, while the surgeons gave her a second life by removing the growing flowers inside her chest.

Her imagination of Byulyi on the surgery table was oddly similar to how she saw her on mornings when Yongsun woke up first, sleepy eyes darting between the little patch of drool on her pillow and the serene expression on her face. Yongsun had never succeeded in holding back a content smile every time she caught that.

She wondered if she would ever have that privilege again.

She didn't even know if she wanted to see her when she would be wheeled to the post-surgery room later.

***

Byulyi confessed.

Three months ago, if she remembered it correctly.

It was by no definition romantic. They were cuddling and watching a K-drama Yongsun had taken an interest in lately. The older woman raised an eyebrow feeling Byulyi detach from her side, a deep breath, and

- Yong?

- Hmm?

- I love you.

- I love you too, Byul-ah. - She smiled, eyes not leaving the TV screen.

- No no, not like those common I love yous we tell each other. I love you, Yongsun. I want to be your romantic partner.

Byulyi got her full attention. Yongsun stared at her, wide-eyed, trying to decipher if this was another prank or not. Eyebrows slightly knitted, lips pursed - she was definitely being serious. Her eyes gleamed with expectation, and another fire that she finally could - but didn't dare to - put a name to.

Yongsun suddenly felt light-headed, she was unable to think straight. Her heart constricted and her emotions were tangling into each other like a messy roll of thread. It was such simple words, but somehow she couldn't fully process it.

Before she could catch it, a string of words just as simple jumped out of .

- I'm sorry.

Byulyi visibly deflated. Yongsun could almost see a slideshow of emotions flashing through those brown orbs. Hurt, disappointment, guilt. Then the younger woman awkwardly smiled.

- Just consider that I never said anything. Let's continue with the movie.

She turned to the front and pulled Yongsun back to her side. Her warmth suddenly felt less familiar, and the skin where Byulyi made the contact tingled unpleasantly. 

*** 

As she listened to Wheein, their mutual friend, frantically recount Byulyi being found unconscious in her office in a pool of white petals, Yongsun wished she was in a fever dream. 

Hanahaki. Oranthoptysis. Spitting flower disease. A disease with so many names just to describe the same symptoms. It was common enough to not be heavily stigmatized but rare enough for Yongsun to be flabbergasted knowing someone so close to her could suffer from it. 

Like Byulyi. 

Byulyi hated being overdramatic, so of course she was granted the most dramatic disease ever thanks to the overflowing, unrequited love for a certain person. (Yongsun swore she could hear her best friend whining about this in her ears, but of course, she soon had no choice but to admit it couldn't have been a reality.)

Painkiller pills that might barely fill half the bottle were scattered near the nightstand, with the bottle itself rolling around on the tabletop as if its owner had been in a hurry to try to soothe h