*T*

It was probably a week after I started hacking up light-pink Phlox that I stopped talking to him. I just stopped showing up to school, or hagwon, or dance club. Many of my friends noticed, and would call or text. I answered almost all of them, telling them that I had caught a terrible cold, and would be fine. I answered all of them, but the one who gave me this terrible disease.

Park Jimin.

I think I knew for a long time that I was in love with Jimin, and it was just a matter of admitting it. To myself, obviously, because I could never say ‘I love you’ to Jimin. Especially now that I’m sick with the disease that ensures that my love is unrequited.

I did all the research I could on Hanahaki Disease, and I've come to the conclusion that I have to keep it a secret. Many people who have caught the disease have died from it. Either from suffocation on flower petals, or taking their end into their own hands- tired of the petals and their broken hearts.

If my parents found out about my disease, they would probably send me to a hospital to have the risky, new surgery preformed on me. Scary doctors would rip the flowers out of my chest, and leave me forever empty.

I am by no means a masochist, but even if the surgery makes the pain go away, I would refuse to have it. Ive read that the surgery doesn't only take away the flowers, but the feelings. I don’t want to stop loving Jimin. And believe me. It’s not like loving someone who doesn’t love you back is pleasant, but love is a feeling that you don’t want to just throw away. Part of me wonders if I would ever be able to love again if I got the surgery.

Right now, I’m crying in my all white room, just having had another fit of flower filled coughing. When I was younger, I used to get terrible headaches because my room would be painted with some migraine-inducing color, either too dark or too bright. Jimin came and helped me paint my room all white, and went shopping with me to find all white furnishings. This memory that once brought me joy and comfort just triggers another coughing fit that’s enough to make me see stars. I fall asleep just like that, curled on my side, face dangling off the bed over a pile of pretty light pink. 

*T*

I wake up to a someone shaking me in a panicky-manner, and I cant help but groan. I smack the hands away from me, not even looking at the culprit,  and sit up. Instead of facing the shaker, I search for one of the many water bottles that are always laying around my room. 

When I check beside the bed, I can tell that I've already been found out. My face clouds over, and my brain goes blank. There doesn’t seem to be a way out of this one.

“Taehyung. I know. I can see.” My mother grabs my apparently trembling hands and gives me a reassuring, but stern look. “It’s Jimin, right?”

“No, mom it’s not what you think, I promise, I just-” I let out a self-loathing chuckle, realizing how pathetic it was that I was going to lie. I could feel tears building at the corners of my eyes, and when they finally spilled over, I just grimaced.

“How long?” My mother looked tired. She is normally quite warm, and affectionate, but right now he is playing the role of stern mom- anchor mom, and I can see that it’s exhausting for her.

“A week and a half… Maybe two. I’m not sure…” I glance around my room, frowning when I think of what comes next. She was probably going to tell me that I need to get the surgery. I honestly don’t know what I’ll do if she says that. Would I just agree? Would I break down?

When I notice how long she’s taking to respond, I refocus my gaze onto her. Her shell has cracked. Her brown eyes normally shined, but right now, they looked glazed. Her pretty blond hair was normally styled, but currently it was sticking up in at least three different places. The woman, In her late twenties, was normally strong. She was broken.

When her lips start to quiver, and she hugs me, I don’t try to push away. Her loud sobs grow louder and louder with every second, and in my small room, the sound doesn’t get to travel far. I sit there, waiting, until she finally starts speaking over my shoulder.

“Taehyung, I don’t know what to say. I’ve always tried to do what’s best for you. I don’t know why you would hide this from me… Why didn't you tell me, Tae?” She pulls back from the hug and looks at me with her now bloodshot eyes, frowning.

“I don’t want to forget what love feels like…” I mumble, looking anywhere but my moms splotchy cheeks, and puffy eyes.

The room is silent. It’s one of those uncomfortable silences that you don’t want to break even though they’re awkward, because you would rather be uncomfortable that face what comes next. My mom clears he throat, and pushes a hand through her messy hair.

“You have to go to school, and you have to eat, and you have to start seeing a councilor. You will also have dinner with me every night, along with a sort of report on how you're doing. If you can’t handle that, we will take you to get the surgery.” 

All I can do is nod. 

I will get through this. 

I have to.

*T*

The next day, I go to school. 

I woke up feeling like I could probably make it through the daunting task of going to school. It might have been because I only had one minor coughing fit the day before, or because my mother had set clear guidelines, but school was sounding like a good idea today. 

I climb out of bed to take a shower, and can’t help but try to avoid the mirror as I walk by. Of course, I fail completely. As soon as I catch sight of myself, I can’t look away. All I can think is, ‘That can’t be me. Absolutely not.’

I’ve gotten thinner everywhere, which might have been an accomplishment had it not been such a major weight-loss. The bags under my deep, dark chocolate eyes are very defines, and my features look pale and sharp. Not in the striking way that you would imagine, but in an unhealthy way. My fringe has gotten slightly, and I can’t help but tug on them, wishing that I could cover my eyes from what I am seeing.

I step into the shower, and purposely make it scalding hot, not really feeling how it burned at my skin. When I dry off, I wrap my towel around my waste and return to the mirror of false imagery. As I dry my hair, I pinch my cheeks and rub my face, trying to bring some of the blood to my face so that I don’t look so sickly pale. When I finally succeed, I can’t help but force out a bitter laugh, because it takes a lot of work to look alive when your so dead on the inside.

I dress myself in my school uniform: a white button down accompanied by a thin black bow tight, black shorts that stop just a little above my knees, black socks that go to my calf muscles, and white sneakers. 

My mom left a note reminding me to eat something before I head to school, which I promptly ignore. I decide to walk to school today. I need the time to think.The walk isn’t long, and when I go through the Academy of the Arts’ gates, all eyes gravitate to me. 

I hear whispers all around; some students that shared classes with me worried about my health, other students just wanted to talk about me. I was a well known student, courtesy of Jimin, so it wasn’t really knew to me. Normally, I would just smile and maybe even share a few waves with some more familiar students as I would merrily head to my first hour- which was normally filled with Jimin’s smile. Today, though, I kept my head ducked, and hurry to class with dragging steps. 

The second I step through the door, I know I’ve been seen. I can hear a chair scrape against the floor in the general area of where I normally sat. 

Where Jimin normally sat.

I keep my eyes low as I walks past my old seat to a new spot back in the corner. I can hear Jimin walking in my direction, and then the bell rings. Our teacher walks in not even second later, and immediately spots Jimin, still on the move.

“Park Jimin! Sit down in your usual seat please!”

I can see the hesitation in Jimin’s step, and I don't dare to look up to see if he’s going to listen. The back of my throat starts to ache and I can feel hot liquid building up in the corners of my eyes. I start to think I should have skipped first hour, as Jimin’s feet carry him one step closer to me.

The doors crash open suddenly, and Jimin seems to turn around to look at the commotion.

“Park Jimin, hurry to your seat so I can carry on!”

“Yeah, okay.” He seems reluctant, but does drag his feet back to our old seat. 

Relief washes over me, and I let out a noise that is part sob, part sigh. I don’t bother to pay attention to the teacher, although she seems to be introducing a new student. All I can do is try to calm down.  I dig my nails into my palms and attempt to count to ten, but I get stopped at seven.

“Kim Taehyung! Can you please stand up so that Mr. Jeon can find his seat next to you!” the teacher says with an obviously stressed out voice.  

I stand, and throw an apologetic look in her direction, before glancing around the room. I immediately realize my mistake. Jimin looks like a kicked puppy, and his eyes are apologetic. My heart starts to ache, along with my head, and my throat. Don't be sorry, you don't even know why you should be sorry. Don’t be sorry for not loving me.

I start to cough.

*T*

Because I’m already standing, and alone at my table, getting out of the classroom is easy. I’m barely three steps away from the door, when walking out gets considerably harder.

“Park Jimin! Where do you think you’re going?”

I duck into the first door I see, which happens to be the boys’ restroom. I don’t even make it into a stall before I start coughing, flowers raking their way out of my throat for who knows how long. When I finally stop, I’m startled to hear someone clear their throat from behind me. My eyes widen in horror as I whip my head around and make eye contact with a senior that no one dares to talk to.

“Yoongi-ssi”

Yoongi looks at me for a long time before grabbing my wrist and pulling me towards the sink. He pulls a handkerchief from his pocket-something that I never thought someone as “badass” as him would have- and runs it under the cold water before ringing it out and dabbing my sweaty forehead.

I close my eyes and try to think of something to say, knowing this situation could start to go downhill very quickly if I don’t say the right thing.

“Um…” Smooth. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself. I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.” He’s still dabbing at my forehead, quiet and concentrated. All I can do is widen my eyes and nod. “And I know it’s none of my business, but I would get the surgery if I were you. There’s a lot of petals here.”

I go teary as I look to the ground and see all the petals that have expelled from my body. Yoongi awkwardly pats my head and wipes at my tears with his handkerchief. He starts to clean up the petals, and shoos me away when I try to help.

“Just put yourself together, and get back to class. There’s still thirty minutes left and I think you’d rather go back now, than have somebody see you walking out of the bathroom after and hour.” Yoongi sounds playful, and he has a smile that shows off his gums. My cheeks grow warm and I look at the ground, not really embarrassed about what Yoongi had suggested, but feeling bad that Yoongi has done so much for me.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi-ssi… and thank you.” I starts to walk away, but Yoongi grabs my wrist to stop me.

“You can say hyung, you know…” he mumbles, with downcast eyes. All I can do is smile.

“Okay, Yoongi-hyung, thank you.”

*T*

After that I walk back to class. My teacher scowls at me until I explain that I had just gotten over a very bad cold, the teacher has a special place in her heart for me, and she just tells me to go back to my seat. I notice on the way to my new seat that Jimin had returned.

“Taehyung, please talk with me at lunch, in the practice room. I don’t know what’s happening with you.” Jimin whispers as I walk past. I just frown, and don’t bother to respond.

When I finally sit down, I realize that I has a new seat mate. He appears to be diligently doing his work, but the second I sit down, the new boy won’t stop staring at me. 

When I finally look at him, the boy gives me a giant smile that reminds me of a bunny. I think he’s quite cute, with his light brown hair and deep dark eyes. I try to smile back, but I’m still exhausted from my last coughing fit. Instead of a smile, my lips pull back into more of a grimace.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jeon Jungkook. Please take care of me!” His voice is cheerful, and of the perfect tone between medium and deep.

“Hi, I’m Kim Taehyung, please care of me as well.” My throat sounds as raw as it feels, and I can Jungkook's eyes widen. I immediately feel embarrassed and turn away. I pull out my notebook so I can copy down what is on the board, and a water bottle appears on my desk. I turn to Jungkook and he throws me one of his big, bunny smiles.

“We should get to know each other, wanna have lunch with me?” I look at him with surprise, and nod. His smile grows even bigger, with obvious excitement in his eyes. He nods excitedly, and turns back to the lesson, seemingly full focus on whats being said.

I find myself smiling about the kind, confident character sitting next to me, until I turn back to the lesson, only to find a frowning Park Jimin turned around in his chair staring at me. I start to feel sick again, but I manage to  push my attention past Jimin to the lesson.

 I can only pray that he doesn’t try to approach me again today.

A/N

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