The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs of flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals. It can be cured without side effects only when the feelings are returned.

Yoongi wakes up with scattered striped carnations by his bedside.

*

It’s just a quiet morning that Yoongi wakes up to. He has a dream. He’s walking hand in hand with someone, but even when he squints his eyes and tries to see whose face it is he can’t make it out. They smile, a distantly familiar smile. Yoongi smiles back and closes his eyes.

He’s awake, drool dotting his cheek as he sluggishly rolls around in bed. He wonders whose warmth he had felt and his fingertips buzz slightly. He lets out a choked gasp when he sees the loose petals on his bed sheets. Oh no. Seeing them sends spiraling feelings in his chest die, and he feels like he’s going to vomit again.

He rushes to the toilet and falls onto his knees as flower petals as soft as velvet stream out of his lips uncontrollably. They feel like they’re bursting from the seams in his throats, fruitlessly trying to dispel a part of him that spends its days longing. As if it would be that easy. Yoongi’s being suffocated inside out and he feels helpless. His ribcage of branches, his lungs of new cherry buds and petal thin heart won’t last him long. He knows what’ll happen if these feelings continue to grow.

There’s always a prospect of surgery, he thinks. But then he’ll forget his feelings for Jimin. He doesn’t know how he would cope. Jimin’s always been everything to Yoongi, his only soft spot, his priority. Call it selfish but to wash away his thoughts of Jimin so easily was erasing his identity. He wonders life without the prospect of Jimin, and it hurts too much. It cuts deeper than the flower bed that flourishes in his body, so he gathers the small frail leaves on his bed sheet and cups it in his pale hands. He watches them swirl around the toilet bowl and disappear. No one has to know.

*

Yoongi only lasts a number of days that he can count on his fingers, before Namjoon gets suspicious. Damn him and his intelligence and quick picking up skills, Yoongi thinks.

Yoongi wakes up groggily at 5AM in the morning, making sure he’s awake before even Seokjin can take a peep. He makes sure he cleans and flushes down the increasing amount of petals he coughs up in his sleep. He can’t have anyone seeing. Lately they’ve grown in numbers alarmingly and this time, there are too many to count. He feels sick, like the weight of the world was crashing into his own being and washing him away.

He scoops the abundant pile slowly from his bed sheets to the toilet. A couple fall out, but he’ll clean them up later.  For this fraction of space where Yoongi exists, he’s feels like he's got all the time in the world.

*

When their busy day comes to a slow halt and when they crash back at the dorm at hours too early in the morning, thoroughly exhausted from hours spent dancing the same choreography again and again, Yoongi should be asleep, but he isn't. He instantly heads for his laptop even though his body is screaming at him to rest and slow down, and black bags sling themselves permanently over his eyes. His joints crick uncomfortably as he situates himself in his computer seat that has its leather peeling away at its seams from years of use. 

Namjoon’s already herded off the rest of the members to sleep. Yoongi’s got his earphones in, mouse clicking all over the page, trying to put some legible beats together. Maybe it’ll become something that’ll be in their next album. He gently takes off his earphones when he hears the shrill creaking of old wooden door hinges moving. 

“Namjoon?” he asks surprised. He really shouldn't be surprised because Namjoon's had his fair share of late nights and pushing his body to brinks that are dangerous, and had used Yoongi multiple times to entertain himself from falling asleep as he was composing. Yoongi pats the bed next to him, “You want to have a listen? I’ve got somethi-”

“I’m not here to talk about music, hyung.” Namjoon interjects quickly, almost hesitantly. Sure Namjoon may be the leader and the best at sorting them out, but when the face of age and experience looks at him, he has nothing but respect for Yoongi. Yoongi sighs, heart sinking. He motions for Namjoon to continue.

“You’ve been going to the bathroom a lot more often than normal. And you seem a lot more out of breath and tired during practices. What’s going on?” Great.

“I’m just tired. You know I’m not athletic and I’m always lazy when it comes to dance practice.” He tries to brush the bathroom part away, hopefully diverting Namjoon’s attention elsewhere, somewhere less revealing and less personal. Away from the fact he’s only so tired because he has to wake earlier and earlier each day because there’s simply too much that he doesn’t have enough time to clean them.

“Hyung...” Namjoon almost whines before he shoves his hands in his pockets. He can see they’re clenched into tight fists. He knows Namjoon doesn’t believe him, so he places a fake well-practiced grin on his face and touches Namjoon’s thigh to give him a sense of empty comfort.

“I’m okay.” He grits out, through lies and clenched teeth and false words.

“When you went down for breakfast…” Namjoon removes his hands from his pockets. They’re clenched so tight Yoongi can see the veins straining beneath tan skin, white knuckle bones protruding from flesh. Yoongi gnaws at his lip nervously. What about it? Namjoon’s voice is grim.

“Yoongi-... then how do you explain this?” Namjoon’s voice wavers for a second.

Namjoon turns his wrist, so it’s face up. He opens his palm, and Yoongi’s breath hitches in his throat.

Inside are two, three, four curled petals.

*

Namjoon ends up lying alongside Yoongi in his double bed. Their backs are facing each other but their fingers brush against each other and Yoongi ends up interlacing their fingers, seeking for some comfort. Namjoon had never been much for physical contact, but this time he lets Yoongi hang on.

“When did it start?” Namjoon asks quietly. Yoongi might as well say it.

“Six days ago.” He replies back softly. Namjoons fingers dig slightly into his own, channeling the hurt Namjoon feels. Six days and still loving Jimin, he thinks. Even if it’s destroying him, Yoongi thinks it might be the best way to go. He sighs softly into his pillow. Oh Jimin.

Yoongi quickly recoils his hand back when he feels his chest expand. Instantly, he shoots up on the bed and tries to dart for the toilets. Namjoon snatches his wrist back and Yoongi makes a muffled choking sound and shakes desperately to be let go. He can feel the pressure of spit and petals burning a scorching trail through his throat. There’s only so long he can contain the stream before the burst free.

Namjoon just drags him back onto the bed and there are now tears that fall out from the corners of his eyes. Namjoon just hugs him and something inside of him breaks. Flowers escape through the cracks of his fingers and tumble down gently onto black bed sheets and Namjoon’s back. His body shakes from the force of his silent coughs. Namjoon just clenches in hands into the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt, and Yoongi wonders how the male would be coping. Namjoon looks visibly shaken.

Thin veined petals don’t stop falling until minutes later, when Yoongi’s breath is loud and ragged in Namjoon’s ears and his heart beats begins to slow down from its erratic race. He feels boneless. If it wasn’t for Namjoon holding him up, he would have slumped onto the bed in exhaustion by now. Namjoon pulls them apart and grips his shoulders, eyes shining with sadness and he softly brushes a lone petal off of the male’s shoulder. Namjoon doesn't like seeing his hyung suffer.

“Please don’t tell the manager.” Yoongi pleads, voice hoarse. “Please.” He begs. He doesn't want to lose his feelings. "I don't want to operate. Not yet..."

He tears his gaze from Namjoon and begins swiftly cleaning the mountain of flowers mess he’s just created. He’d rather no one else knowing if he could help himself. He does feel a bit better though. He wasn’t sure if it was the flowers that suffocated him, or his kept secrets bottled so tightly like a shaken coke can placed inside his body. 

"Yoongi, looks how much there are." Namjoon desperately, grasping at frail petals on the bed. There's so much that he can't even count it. 

"Give me three days. I'll sort it out in three days. If I still, I'll have the operation." Yoongi responds weakly.

Namjoon doesn't say anything. He just tugs Yoongi gently back to bed, and gives Yoongi whatever closure he can. Yoongi lets out a small sigh when he feels the elders warm body pressed behind him. Namjoon wasn't normally this physical.

Yoongi’s too-short legs tangle together with Namjoon’s too-long legs. Yoongi decides he likes the warmth, even though it’s not Jimin. If he closes his eyes hard enough, maybe he can just imagine it wasn’t their leader comforting him but Jimin, maybe.

*

The next time their schedule rolls around, which was only the day or some after that night with Namjoon, he looks at his manager. His manager only stares back, almost curious, then Yoongi realises. Namjoon actually kept his mouth shut. The car ride to their photoshoot is silent, save from Jimin messing around with Jungkook in a new bangtan bomb episode. Jimin almost idolizes Jungkook, as he swishes the camera too-and-fro capturing sleeping bandmates and headfuls of hair. "Jungkook, sing something!" Jimin would say, and Jungkook would roll his eyes and ignore his plea. 

They mess around with each other playfully though, and Jimin's giggles seem a little higher pitched, his smile is a bit more wider. 

*

Namjoon claps his hands and the whole band groans at the prospect of more practice. But what can he do, Yoongi swallows his words and walks into the ingrained formation. As Danger blares through old speakers, he raps and dances his parts and he makes eye contact with Jimin through the mirror. He smiles slightly, and looks away, pretending to focus back on his dance. More practice and dancing will get his mind off stupid thoughts and things. He did promise to figure something in three days, but it wasn't proving to be easy at all as he shifts to the back. His eyes can't look anywhere but to the well defined muscles of Jimin, his Jimin. Taunt arms and sweat-matted hair and a grin too wide is all that makes Jimin up when he's dancing. Sooner or later (because Yoongi can't sense time anymore) they get a quick break.

Only Jungkook's in the middle of the studio, going through the smooth moves of his solo performance with grace. Yoongi just watches Jungkook lazily from a seat, occasionally stealing glances to Jimin, but the male looked just as occupied staring at Jungkook dance. In the middle of Jungkook's routine, Jimin coughs loudly and quickly rushes to bathroom, eyes blown wide and hands cupped around his lips. Staff follow after him quickly and Jungkook just stares in silence at what just happened, arms loosely dropping to their sides, solo dance routine long forgotten. The manager enters the bathroom almost immediately to pursue what was wrong with Jimin. The manager emerges from the toilets with a grim expression.

"Jimin just spiked a high temperature, no doubt from the practice just before, so we are taking him back to the dorms. He's fallen really sick and it might infect you. You guys stay here and continue practicing." The manager excuses himself, a bunch of staff trailing after him to assist Jimin. 

Hours pass as they practice vigorously until Yoongi's body is too sore to do anything but slump against mirrors that metastasize with condensation from his flaming body. Amazingly, he only excuses himself to the toilet once to puke, which was when he thought about Jimin and what was wrong, worry sinking in his like a knotted rope. A few phone calls made hours ago said that Jimin had come down with something and was running an intense fever, and no one more details were disclosed. There was a nagging suspicion in his mind that made his heart sink to his stomach, and it was awful, but he hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

Practice ends at 11pm, a good two hours less than he thought he’d have to stay. Something about ‘everyone’s tired and they've done well enough’ lets them off the hook today. Yoongi suspects it's because Jimin isn't here. Such a vital part of the choreography was missing and it just didn't feel right. Their dance teacher says he'll treat them Korean BBQ today to make them feel better, but the last thing Yoongi is, is hungry. 

Yoongi rushes out as soon as practice was over to look over a feverish and sick Jimin back at the dorms. The other members and their dance teacher had left to do eat Korean BBQ to celebrate the early finish and violently protested when Yoongi broke away from the group to go on his way back to the dorms. Even Namjoon gave him a pitying look. None of them really had Jimin on their mind, too busy feasting on hard-earned meat. 

“You always care too much about Jimin! We feel left out too you know!” Taehyung had whined childishly, clinging onto his arm as if to try to stop him from leaving. Yoongi just smiled gently, and ruffled the boy’s carrot-top hair. “Sorry.” But he doesn't really mean it. Not when Taehyung’s words hit home too hard and he feels the stream of flowers bubbling beneath his throat. With Jimin, he’s always cared too much.

*

He gets home and Jimin’s cooped up in a mess of blankets and tapping into his phone’s katalk aggressively. Yoongi can almost see the selfies with grilled meat in the chat. Yoongi smiles, and turns on the light. Jimin’s figure recoils and he hears a soft whine at the harsh light. He approaches the bed and sits down, grabbing Jimin’s attention momentarily before Jimin ducks between sheets, pushing Yoongi away. Yoongi frowns, and sneezes. It only takes a moment to realise it’s not just a fever Jimin is caught up in. His heart stops in his chest as he asks a question, barely above a whisper, and holding out his hand before lightly letting a single frayed seed land on his palm. Dandelions.

"Was this why?..." Yoongi trails, flashing back to Jimin darting out of the bathroom. Jimin just nods slightly and dips his head back in to hide himself. So it wasn't just a fever. Jimin had Hanahaki disease as well. Just like he did. 

“It’s Jungkook isn't it?” He asks softly, turning Jimin around so he could look his glassy eyes. Yoongi lets a hand run through Jimin’s soft brown hair that should be rough to the touch at the constant dye jobs, but still miraculously remain pliant against his fingers and sighs. 

Jimin almost lets out a cry, but a cough comes instead, expelling more dusty white flecks at the name. Jimin struggles to turn away, before his shaky voice speaks, almost pleadingly. “J-Jungkook… They said I have to remove it tomorrow... B-but I don't want to...” His heart lets out a defeated breath, I knew it.

Yoongi smiles even though his heart valves feel like they’re being clogged up with flowers. His chest feels tight. He quickly excuses himself to go the toilet and Jimin is too feverish to say anything else but to just weakly nod. Yoongi clamps a hand over his mouth, he can’t let Jimin see. He can’t let it spill to anyone but Namjoon. He collapses as soon as he enters the bathroom and heaves right all over the floor.

Tears burn at the back of Yoongi’s eyes, throat constricting in his body as if someone’s choking him. Maybe it was Jimin’s imaginary fingers wrapping around his neck. Pale white fingers and pink shavings of dead flowers entomb him as he’s on his hands and knees. His heart hurts, it hurts so badly.

*

The next day, when the dorm is silenced by shining rays and crumpled blankets, Yoongi has a dream. He’s holding onto Jimin’s hand. Smiling. Ah, he realises. So it was Jimin all this time. The male smiles a heartbreaking grin to Yoongi. Yoongi smiles softly back, because if he has none of Jimin, maybe his dreams could trick him into believing that there was something. It’s cruel, and his chest hurts, so he digs his nails into Jimin to distract himself. He closes his eyes for a moment. He opens them.

There’s an expression of pain on Jimin and Yoongi instantly feels bad. He apologizes and instantly retract his nails, but Jimin has a distant look on his face and let’s go of his hold. There’s an expression of disdain across Jimin’s face and he begins to walk away. Yoongi yells after Jimin, but the male doesn’t turn out, only walks faster. Yoongi never thought Jimin’s short legs would ever outrun him, but now Jimin is far away and next to Jungkook. They’re holding hands, laughing, and Jimin looks happier than anything’s he’s ever seen. Yoongi almost laughs bitterly. Even in dreams it was was going to be this way.

Yoongi feels like someone’s shoved a gun down his throat and shot two bullets. Oh the irony. Weren't they meant to be bulletproof?

*

Yoongi wakes up in quick gasps, and his hand is curled into fists. His heart hurts. He feels the familiar flowers pressing pressure onto his caged heart. It’ll be okay, he thinks. As long as Jimin is happy, I’m happy. He doesn’t realise the tears that soak his pillow. It’ll be okay. He lets go. He tears out his heart and gives it to Jimin. It’ll be okay.

Take it. Take it and leave me be, take it so I don’t have to hear or feel it beat so painfully anymore in my chest. Take it, take everything that I am. Jimin, I’m yours.

*

Seokjin screams; yells for help when he enters the younger’s room the next morning. Yoongi is in the middle of a bed of flowers, of shredded petals and decaying blossoms. Petals are strewn across the room, endless patterned silken flowers enclosing the room. They’re all over the floor, and the mountains of flower where Yoongi’s head rests, like a bitter flower crown.

Namjoon swears up and down as he shakes Yoongi’s body hopelessly, calling, begging for his hyung to wake up, to just open his eyes. That he still had two more days to sort it out. But Yoongi can’t, because Yoongi’s already gone. Namjoon tries to keep the frustration at bay when he speaks, but his tone is still sharp as he explains to Jimin what the hell was going on, why Yoongi is lying so deathly still on his bed. He tries not to spit out, 'it's all your fault.' at the younger male, but he cant help himself. Jimin's tears bring some kind of guilt to his hollow heart, but Namjoon is far too bitter to apologize.

Even when Jimin kneels by his dead body and claws at Yoongi's hand and cries, ‘I’ll love you, I’ll love you, I’ll love you so please just come back.’ It’s too late. Not even Namjoon’s barely-there tears, not even Jimin’s cold belated kiss, not even the emotionless Jungkook curling into himself to hide his broken sobs is enough to bring him back. Not even when Jimin goes insane with grief only moments later, punching Jungkook unconscious until Namjoon and Seokjin haul him off and yell at him to stop before he accidentally kills the teen.

Jimin sinks back to his knees beside Yoongi's bed and pressed kisses to the unresponsive body desperately, salty trails leaking onto the bone white skin that’s even paler than he last remembers. He feels a something inside his mouth and pulls away. He pries the older’s mouth open just a little bit. Inside there is no loose petals. Instead, one complete ring of petals encase a bud. One lonely complete flower.

Jimin breaks down, shaking Yoongi’s body and trying to pry his eyelids open. It’s futile because Yoongi’s eyelids just keep falling back into their original position; closed and shut and unresponsive. Jimin takes out the flower and think, it looks so beautiful, so beautiful and broken. Jimin kisses Yoongi again, tears blurring his eyes so he misses his mark and ends up kissing the corner of his lips instead. Jimin doesn’t mind though. He murmurs a silenced ‘I’m sorry’ into his lips. Jimin's sorry for ignoring, for not reciprocating, and for denying. Jimin's sorry that he couldn't have fallen in love with Yoongi before. A part of his aches. Jimin's sorry for everything. But he can't change it.

Yoongi’s limp body doesn’t respond to the touch that it used to long after so much, to the hand it wish it held for all these years, the eyes that it wished would look at him that way. Yoongi has accepted, Yoongi has let go.

Yoongi has blossomed.

*

I was super super inspired by @resonae's Unrequited that I HAD TO WRITE a fan fiction with the idea as well. Twisted it a bit and hopefully I have an original plot line because I honestly only took the prompt. ugh this really hurt my heart. Yoongi’s flower is a striped carnation.

“A striped carnation means ‘No.’ It is a symbol of refusal, and says ‘I’m sorry I can’t be with you, but I wish I could.’”

It might seem contradictory to Yoongi’s role in the story, but deep down he knows he’s suffocating, and Yoongi’s sorry that the only person he loves, the only one that has the potential to save him, will never be able to save him and he’s guilty because he knows Jimin will hate himself for just not being enough even though in Yoongi’s eyes he’s always been enough. He wishes he could be with Jimin, but all he see’s is Jungkook in Jimin’s eyes. Yoongi can’t stand to take away that light in Jimin’s eyes that he fell so in love with. He wishes he could be with Jimin to save himself, and save Jimin was well. But he can’t.

Even if Jimin says ‘Yes, I’ll be with you’ Yoongi will say ‘No.’ because he knows that Jimin will never grow to love him, not in the way he loves Jungkook. Yoongi wishes he could be with Jimin, but he can’t because doing so would make Jimin suffer. Yoongi knows he won’t win, and so he lets go. He lets go of his heart, his feelings and eventually his life. His withered heart is in Jimin’s hands, and he’ll know the younger won’t be able to mend it back, but he hopes at least Jimin’s heart will finally be able to love Jungkook genuinely. And to him, that’s enough.

SEQUEL COMING UP ONE DAY HAHA SOMEONE HELP ME--

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