*i'm not sure if this is going overboard as i'm not sure what is appropriate or what is not, but to be safe, for those fasting, there will be mention of food in this chapter :(

blood flowers

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“I said I can go over and we can take the cab from your place. Isn’t it hard for you to drag your luggage all the way here?”

“It’d be the same for you, won’t it?” Youngjae deadpans as he clips the phone between his shoulder and his ear. His bag weighs down heavily on his shoulders, the neck cushion Jiwon and Hanbin bought for him hanging from one strap. Youngjae yelps when the wheels of his luggage get caught in a crevice.

“Yeah, but I’m not weak like you,” Daehyun’s voice crackles over the phone.

Youngjae squints. “Oh, really? You look like a piece of paper nowadays with how thin you are. Anyway, I’ll reach in ten minutes. It’s going to take a while.”

“You should have just asked me to drive you to my place, idiot,” Daehyun sighs. “I’m going to double check my luggage. Call me when you reach.”

“Alright.” Youngjae tucks his phone into his bag, grunting as he tugs his luggage out and pulls it over the pavement. It shakes every now and then with the bumps in the cement with the afternoon sunlight b over his skin. Youngjae’s thankful that he didn’t put the neck cushion around his neck; it’s been only five minutes and he’s already sweating pretty badly.

Miraculously, Youngjae makes it to Daehyun’s apartment complex. He glances to the flower shop, bins and baskets emptier than usual since Daehyun didn’t bring in any new orders. He thought of letting Jiwon and Hanbin handle the shop but he was worried for their safety when locking up the store at night, so he decided against it.

Youngjae melts into a small smile as he gazes through the glass window. He promises the flowers he’ll be back in a few days and goes into the lift lobby.

Emerging on Daehyun’s floor, he stops upon seeing two figures at the end. Daehyun’s chatting with his neighbour, Sunhwa. He waits in a corner, not wanting to disrupt their conversation.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Take them.” Daehyun holds out a bunch of dahlias. “They won’t last by the time I get back.”

“Well, okay. Thank you. I feel bad. Just a few days ago, you gave me Hydrangeas,” Sunhwa beams. She’s clad in a simple T-shirt and shorts, bronze hair flowing down to her shoulders. Her features look gentler than Youngjae remembers; perhaps it’s because she’s not wearing make-up.

“It’s my pleasure, really. I don’t often meet people like you who like flowers,” Daehyun chuckles.

“That’s true. We’re a small bunch. I used to not like them, actually, till I went on a forest expedition a few years ago,” Sunhwa shares. She touches the underside of a petal. “They’re called Dahlias?”

“Yeah. I have more, if you’re interested.”

“That’s okay. You've given me a lot of flowers in just this month,” Sunhwa smiles at the flower bundle in her hand, admiring it for a moment. “I'll take good care of it. I hope you have a good trip. I’ve never been to Jeju.”

“I've been there once, but when I was really young. I’ll let you know if it’s a good place to visit.”

“I’d like that.” Sunhwa steps back, bidding Daehyun goodbye as she enters her home.

Youngjae rolls his luggage up to Daehyun, the man belatedly noticing him. “Oh, you’re here?”

Daehyun clicks his tongue. “You’re covered in sweat. Go wash up.”

“Mm, I really should.” Youngjae glances back at the closed door. “You were talking to Sunhwa?”

“Sunhwa?” Daehyun pauses. “Oh.”

“What do you mean by ‘oh’? Did she come over to say goodbye?”

Daehyun mutters, “She was on her way back from the convenience store. I was outside checking what shoes I should wear there.”

“Not the grey torn ones, that’s for sure. I don’t know how they haven’t just fallen apart while you’re walking,” Youngjae furrows his brows. He shuts the door behind him, thinking of daffodils. Sunhwa will always be a person of interest to him with how she can make Daehyun smile so easily, despite how guarded he usually is.

"She said you gave her Hydrangeas?"

Daehyun frowns. "How long were you eavesdropping for?"

"Hey, I wasn't eavesdropping," Youngjae snorts. "So, you've been giving her flowers?"

"She took a month off because she sprained her fingers. Since I saw her around more, I gave her some extra flowers every now and then," Daehyun elaborates. "They just wilt anyway so I'd rather they go to someone who likes them."

Daehyun nudges Youngjae towards the bathroom. “I’ll get you a towel and a shirt.” His sentence breaks off with a loud cough.

“Did you catch something? And I can just wear back my shirt. I like this one.”

“No. I don’t want you to stink up the plane, especially when I’m the one sitting beside you.” Daehyun seems to swallow with difficulty, massaging his throat. “I’m fine. Just a little sore throat.”

Before Youngjae can bite back at his insult, Daehyun has already pushed him into the bathroom. “I’ll hang them on the door knob.”

Locking the door behind him, Youngjae sighs as the cool water hits his shoulders. He pumps out some soap, stopping to take a whiff. He briefly thinks about smelling like Daehyun, rubbing the thought out of his mind and feeling embarrassed at the tingles over his cheeks. He’s showered at Daehyun’s place several times and liked to use more of Daehyun’s soap than he should have. It wasn’t anything strange to him then, but the implications now make him bashful.

It’s been five days since Youngjae first saw Daehyun cry. It’s become a bit of a dream with how surreal it is—a bad one, that is.

He puts on Daehyun’s grey shirt, settling on the couch. “I’ll check your luggage for you.” He pulls over the bag, taking the packing list he’d customised for Daehyun. Honestly, his own packing list is for the both of them, while Daehyun’s version just removes the things Youngjae particularly needs.

“This hand cream is too big,” Youngjae remarks, plucking it out. He bought it for Daehyun last winter when he complained about his peeling palms.

“I like the smell, though.”

“I already brought one, so we can just use mine.” Youngjae checks through Daehyun’s medication bag while Daehyun sits cross-legged. Youngjae raises his head when he hears a laugh.

“Look at you, trying to act like a mother when I’m older.” Daehyun pats Youngjae’s head, getting up and heading to the kitchen. “Want to eat anything before leaving?”

“No. Are you hungry?” Youngjae blinks at the multiple packs of throat lozenges. “Do you need that many?

“For you. These work well. You’ve tried them already, right?”

“Mm, but I don’t like the flavour.” Youngjae zips back Daehyun’s bag. “Thanks.”

After an hour of checking their luggage, Daehyun shuts the windows and switches off his electrical appliances. He drags Youngjae’s luggage out to the first floor while Youngjae’s in the toilet, getting his own as Youngjae emerges.

“I already took yours. Let’s go.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Youngjae sighs, wearing his socks. He coughs and decides to swallow down the flowers, so he doesn’t make a mess on the floor. They tickle his throat uncomfortably and he instinctively holds his stomach. He probably shouldn’t do it too often.

Daehyun follows suit, coughing as well. “I got the security guard to take care of it, so don’t worry.”

They get into a taxi as Youngjae’s heart buoys with enthusiasm, watching the roads rush by into winds and blurs. This isn’t the first time he’s been on a trip—the last one was to visit Jisook in England—but it’s the first one he’ll have with Daehyun.

He pulls out his crumpled itinerary, skimming through it as a smile blooms over his cheeks. As he gazes out the window, he catches Daehyun staring at him in the reflection.

“What?”

Daehyun folds his lips. “You’ve already lost weight. Your cheeks.”

“It’s not that much.” Youngjae pats his face. He dropped 3 kilograms, actually, so he can’t imagine how much Daehyun has lost over the years.

Daehyun frowns. He parts his lips to speak but abruptly covers his mouth, coughing slightly.

“Hey, you’ve been coughing a lot,” Youngjae breathes, leaning over in concern. “Are you okay? You caught something, didn’t you?”

“I’ve been eating a lot of junk food lately since I don’t have to do blood flowering,” Daehyun says loftily.

Youngjae squints. “You’re such an idiot.”

They reach the airport by afternoon, greeted by a moderate stream of other flyers. After getting a meal at an Italian restaurant in the departure hall, they head for the boarding gate.

The flight is uneventful, Daehyun immediately opting to sleep while Youngjae plays games on his phone. As Daehyun’s head lolls back and forth, Youngjae tenderly rests Daehyun’s head on his shoulder, gently brushing Daehyun’s drool away.

Is there a difference between now and then? Youngjae would have done this even if he didn’t know he liked Daehyun. The awareness just puts a meaning to the affection he hadn’t realised and leaves him less honest with his embarrassing feelings.

He glances to Daehyun’s hand on the arm rest. Like the first time he touched a flower, Youngjae gingerly places his palm over Daehyun’s hand. They’re rough and big, unlike Youngjae’s small ones. Daehyun sometimes held his hand when they went out to crowded places, worried he’d lose him.

Youngjae pulls away and rests his hand on his arm. Some moments later, he decides to sleep as well, the two resting against one another till their flight lands.

Schlepping behind Daehyun groggily, Youngjae bites back a cough. Some flowers scatter out of his mouth, surprising a young girl. She stares with large eyes at him till she is hastily pulled away by her mother, a hand to .

Youngjae lowers his gaze. It’s not the first time he’s seen people react like that, as if he’d pass on a terminal illness. Most people who have never been in contact with the Hanahaki disease tend to exaggerate its severity.

People stop to stare at the mess settling on the ground. As Youngjae bends down to pick up the Wisteria petals, he garners more furtive glances, those that disperse once he looks up.

All of a sudden, Daehyun takes Youngjae’s wrist. He uses his other hand to scoop away Youngjae’s Wisteria flowers and dumps them in the bin beside them. Ridiculously, Youngjae reacts with more embarrassment to that than the piercing stares.

“I told you not to touch my flowers so casually,” Youngjae nags.

“And I told you I don’t care,” Daehyun remarks. His eyes dart over to the few people looking at Youngjae, stare unwavering with his lips pulled into a thin line. While his expression isn’t overtly hostile, it makes Youngjae uneasy. After all, Daehyun’s always laidback—not one to care about the gossip as his Hanahaki flowers show.

Youngjae nudges Daehyun towards the exit, urging him along with an assuring smile. They board a bus to their guesthouse, Daehyun stopping outside for a moment to admire the exterior.

“Wow, it feels homely,” he remarks. “I like it. It’s quiet here, too.”

“I figured,” Youngjae returns, pleased. “It’s not too far from the places we’ll visit too.”

They bring their luggages in, an amicable elderly lady welcoming them in. Their room has two beds, the floor tiles with a wooden pattern and the walls white. Some ornaments of famous Jeju attractions sit on the shelves, along with other decorations that make it all the more cozy.

Youngjae throws himself onto the bed by the window while Daehyun takes the other. He looks a lot more excited, as if the realisation that they’re on a trip has finally sunk in.

“There’s flowers,” Daehyun perks up, going straight to the vase by the window. He touches the sweet pea flowers, eyes crinkling handsomely along the sides.

“Guess it’s not that strange, since Jeju’s always been more welcoming of flowers. Makes me feel right at home,” Daehyun says.

“It used to be really famous for its greenery, right? Before the Hanahaki disease. That’s what I read.”

“Yeah. Before people got scared of flowers, a lot of people used to visit it. But the plants with flowers here haven’t been hidden or destroyed, unlike in other places, since there’s more elderly people living here than younger people.”

“This guesthouse really is pretty.” Daehyun inhales the scent of seawater, grinning. “You picked a good spot.”

“I worked hard, didn’t I?” Youngjae cheerily asks.

“You did. Thanks for booking the place.” Daehyun pats Youngjae’s head, taking off his jacket and hanging it up. He takes off his shirt too, muttering about sweating on the way here.

Youngjae glances at him, reaching out to touch Daehyun’s showing ribcage. Daehyun jerks back and frowns at him.

“What the hell?”

“You say I’ve lost weight but I can even see your ribcage. Have you even noticed that?” Youngjae mutters, hurt manifesting in his voice. Before he launches into a spiel, he catches himself and looks away.

They’re on a trip. Daehyun’s taking a break. He shouldn’t bring blood flowering up here when Daehyun’s at least trying for once, albeit having been very resistant.

“Do you want to rest for a while, or should we head out?” Youngjae changes the topic.

“…We can head out. I just need to wash up,” Daehyun returns belatedly. He rubs the spot Youngjae touched. “This place provides breakfast, right?”

“Mm. We can eat here before leaving every day.”

Daehyun walks to the window and draws open the netted curtains. “Wow, you can see the sea from here.” His sentence breaks off into a cough.

“Mm. It might be chilly at night, though, because of the sea breeze.”

Daehyun nods. “We’re going to the cherry blossom street first?”

“Yeah. The famous pork noodles restaurant is right at the end,” Youngjae excitedly shares. “Go wash up. I’ll unpack a little.”

After Daehyun changes into another shirt, they head out, getting lost for a while before finally reaching their destination. The cherry blossom trees line the street of varying shophouses and buildings, juxtaposition oddly endearing. Some branches narrowly miss the powerlines, birds perching on top.

It’s pretty. Youngjae breathlessly gazes up at the spring flowers, admiring the hues of pink and the neat contrast with the dark bark. He looks over to Daehyun who has an equally enamoured look. He has a small camera strung around his neck, one his father gave to him some time back but he never used.

“They’re very healthy,” Daehyun chuckles, snapping several photos. “It’s not yet mid-Spring but they’ve already bloomed so well.” He stops by a tree with lower branches, gently caressing the petals.

“Did you know? This species of cherry blossoms are unique to Jeju. They’ve got larger petals than the ones in Japan.”

“Wow…” Youngjae reaches up similarly, touching the flowers with a sole finger. “They’re one of the prettiest flowers I’ve ever seen. I wish the festivals were still around.”

He remarks with a merry smile, “They look like pink clouds, with how they’re clustered.”

Daehyun gazes at him. “Hey. Go stand there beside the tree trunk.”

Youngjae raises a brow. “Why?”

“I want to take a photo of you.” Daehyun holds his chest, clearing his throat a little.

“Oh.” Youngjae flushes, some embarrassment crawling over his expression. “It’s alright. Just take a photo of the flowers.”

“Just go stand there. I’ll be quick,” Daehyun says, nudging Youngjae over.

Awkwardly, Youngjae poses by the tree, hands clasped in front while he offers a small smile. Normally, he’d be making stupid faces, comfortable and silly with a long-time friend who understands him better than anyone else. Unfortunately, his heart keeps reciting the story of his love for an oblivious florist.

“Let’s take one together,” Youngjae calls out when Daehyun lowers his camera. They get someone to snap a photo of them and Youngjae pesters Daehyun to see it.

With the backdrop of cherry blossoms and passing people, Youngjae admires how the two of them simmer into the ethereal backdrop. Daehyun’s always stiff when it comes to photos, but he looks natural here, probably a byproduct of being happy. Really handsome, too.

The two of them walk down the street, admiring the bunches of cherry blossoms and how the pigmentation varies just a little. With the roads littered with cherry blossom flower petals, they walk through the pink scatter, simply submerging in the slow talk of the locals.

When their hands brush, Youngjae briefly edges his arm away under the guise of covering his mouth as he coughs. As he mulls, he slowly drops his hand back down, letting their hands touch. It burns to feel Daehyun’s fingers against his and pushes his heart into his throat with the Hanahaki flowers.

Suddenly, Daehyun pulls his hand away, cupping his mouth. He coughs hard, swallowing with difficulty.

“Maybe we should stop by a pharmacy before it gets worse,” Youngjae frets.

“It’s alright.” Daehyun folds his arms, tucking them against his chest as they walk. His brows are furrowed, spelling of some worry.

As Youngjae debates on whether to insist, his train of thought cuts off with a cough. Wisteria flowers burst out from his mouth onto the floor. He quickly leans down to pick them up but Daehyun stops him.

“It’s fine,” he assures. “The whole street is filled with flowers. It doesn’t matter.”

“But they’re dirty,” Youngjae protests.

“They’re not. They’re flowers all the same.” Daehyun coughs again, holding his arms tighter against his chest. “Does it hurt?”

“No, not at all,” Youngjae assures. His throat is dry and it’s difficult to breathe well. His head hurts a little as well, and he knows he’s beginning to feel fatigued despite having just arrived. Still, Youngjae wears the most confident smile he can.

“Drink more water,” Daehyun says, tugging Youngjae’s bottle out of his bag and handing it over. He gazes at Youngjae for a while and his hair.

“It’s always hard after a break-up. Don’t think too much about things and just enjoy yourself.”

As Daehyun pulls away, Youngjae loathes himself for immediately missing the touch. He lightheartedly elbows Daehyun. “What are you talking about? I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Well, that’s good then.”

They stop by a few stores on their quiet stroll, looking at souvenirs and snacks. Daehyun takes several photos of the items with Youngjae in the shots, much to Youngjae’s embarrassment. Annoyingly, all Daehyun does is blame him for not getting out of the way in time.

Later, they tour a small open museum for an hour, admiring monuments and paintings. Youngjae buys a cherry blossom keychain and secretly hooks it on Daehyun’s bag. They get several postcards of cherry blossom trees, debating over which to give Jiwon and Hanbin.

As evening dawns, Youngjae brings Daehyun to a renowned noodles restaurant. They queue for half an hour or so before finally entering to a wonderous, savoury scent.

The pork belly noodles are scrumptious, broth thick and tinged with just the right amount of salt. The meat is soft and the noodles have their own flavour to them. Even though Youngjae has been eating less due to his sore throat, its sheer deliciousness sparks Youngjae’s appetite.

It hurts when he swallows, but Youngjae tries not to let his winces show in case Daehyun worries. As he messily eats, slurping up his food enthusiastically, Daehyun seizes the chance to snap a few pictures.

At the sound of the shutter, Youngjae lifts his head in surprise. His cheeks flare as Daehyun laughs at the camera screen, Youngjae wiping his mouth to find some sesame seeds on his lips.

“Delete that,” Youngjae nearly yells. He reaches over, nearly spilling his noodles in trying to grab the camera.

“What’s wrong? You look fine.” Daehyun holds his camera aside and his voice dwindles. “You look good. Pretty, even.”

Youngjae flushes, brows knitting further. “Stop it. Why do you keep taking photos of me?”

Daehyun shrugs. “I just want to. Why are you being so shy? You’re usually pretty shameless.”

Youngjae’s jaw slackens and he stomps on Daehyun’s foot under the table. Daehyun doubles over, hissing at the blunt pain.

“Stop taking photos of me. Take photos of yourself,” Youngjae mutters. While it’s embarrassing and irritating, but it makes Youngjae’s heart flutter like the helpless cherry blossoms.

As Youngjae watches Daehyun wolf up the noodles, he plops in his meat slices.

“Don’t give it to me. You’re the one bearing flowers.” Daehyun clips up the slices but Youngjae shakes his head, pulling his bowl aside.

“Just eat it. You’re the one who’s been blood flowering for almost a year.” Youngjae leans over, suppressing a cough behind his hand.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? The meat’s soft. Usually, the places I go tend to overcook it and it becomes chewy.”

Daehyun takes a moment to reply, glancing back down to his bowl. “Yeah, it is soft. They cooked it well.” He obediently eats the pork slices Youngjae gave. “Thanks.”

After dinner, they head back to the guesthouse down the same street, admiring the street lights against the small cherry blossoms. The weather is expectedly more chilly than before, a light breeze tussling away the fallen flowers like carrying snowflakes. Youngjae pulls his coat tighter around himself.

Daehyun opens his backpack and fishes out a scarf. He stops Youngjae with one hand and nudges the boy to face him. Youngjae’s fingers curl in an upsettingly head-numbing nervousness as Daehyun twines his scarf around Youngjae’s neck. His rough knuckles touch the underside of Youngjae’s jaw as he dotingly adjusts the scarf.

“Still cold?” He asks simply, love always better shown by his actions.

Youngjae buries his cheeks into his scarf, enjoying masochistically the bittersweet sensation in his chest. “Nope. Are you cold?”

“I’m fine. You really need to take good care of yourself when you have the disease,” Daehyun points out. “It’s easy to catch other things because you’re weaker. How’s the sore throat? The food was heavy.”

“It’s okay.” Youngjae tries swallowing, making a face when he realises that his sore throat has worsened. He should have expected it, anyway.

“Eat the lozenges.” Daehyun tosses out a piece. Youngjae follows his instructions without arguing, popping one into his mouth.

It’s quiet, snippets of conversations drifting by with the wind. The lights flicker over Daehyun’s face and illuminates his acne scars and dark eye circles. He looks beautiful still, Youngjae thinks, under the light that comes and goes as they walk.

Youngjae watches as two young girls skip by with their parents trailing behind, both paying no heed to the cherry blossoms trees. It’s so unlike Seoul where children gasp and whisper furiously about flowers, conditioned by their parents to fear the face of a disease.

“It must be nice to live here. People here don’t mind the flowers at all,” Youngjae remarks breathlessly. He looks up at the expanse of midnight blue, spotting several stars to his delight.

“The sky is so clear too. I can’t wait to go trekking with you tomorrow.” He flashes an elated smile.

Daehyun slowly melts into a smile. “Me too,” he hums, eyes glazing with a lovely wistfulness like remembering an old song. “I’m happy we decided to go on a trip together.”

“We decided? I had to ask you over and over again for months before you agreed, and you did it only after a fight.”

Youngjae yelps when Daehyun reaches over, tugging at his cheek.

Their shoes brush against the asphalt as they continue to stroll, wind prickling at their exposed hands. Youngjae breathes in the scent of Daehyun’s laundry detergent, nestling contentedly into the scarf.

Daehyun looks up at the cherry blossom trees. In an almost strained voice, he carelessly comments, “A long time ago, it used to be romantic to walk down a street like this with someone you loved, because of the flowers. Just like how they’d scatter flowers as the bride walked down the aisle. Hard to think it used to be like that, huh?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Youngjae returns after a blank, having been caught off guard by Daehyun’s remark. Understandably, Daehyun has no awareness of the weight of his words. It’s rather cruel to be saying something like that to Youngjae of all people. To someone who loves you with all his heart, yet know nothing of it.

The Wisteria flowers stir in Youngjae’s chest. He tenses up his throat to stop the flowers from heinously interrupting their moment.

Daehyun slows to a stop, crouching to pick up a short, broken cherry blossom tree branch.

“I don’t think I’ve mentioned this, right? Lots of brides wore flowers in their hair for their wedding,” Daehyun twists it around, admiring the still intact flowers.

“It was a pretty look,” he hums softly. “I liked it a lot, seeing the photos my mother had of her customers. She used to work as a wedding stylist and she’d put flowers into the bride’s hair bun. Camellias, roses, lilies, all sorts of nice flowers.”

Daehyun turns to Youngjae and steps closer. With one finger, he brushes Youngjae’s hair back. Youngjae holds his breath as Daehyun tenderly tucks the thin branch behind Youngjae’s ear.

“You have a face that really complements flowers,” Daehyun murmurs, eyes darting over Youngjae’s face. “Something about you looks delicate like them.”

He finally meets Youngjae’s eyes, expression unreadable. His stare is fixated yet wavers at moments. Youngjae gazes back at him in confusion as his heartbeat triples into a nauseating ferocity. Thump and the blood rushes to his cheeks down to his cold hands. Everything Daehyun does and says can be so obliviously heart-pulling.

Youngjae steps back as a bout of cough wracks through him. The purple flowers scatter out like blood drops, slowly falling onto the floor. The cherry blossom branch drops as well among the pile of violet flowers.

“Are you okay?” Daehyun hurriedly asks, concern washing over his face. Youngjae holds him away and nods, swallowing a few times in pain. He picks off a Wisteria flower from his lips.

“Sorry,” Youngjae croaks, stepping further away. He bends down and retrieves the cherry blossom branch, putting it into his pocket. From Daehyun’s upset look, he can imagine how sickly he must have seemed. Moreover, he can guess how stupid he must seem to Daehyun for keeping the flowers.

“I’m fine, Daehyun,” Youngjae states, offering a tired smile. "Really."

All Daehyun does is nod in return.

They return to the guesthouse, silence trailing their walk back despite Youngjae’s attempts to make conversation. Daehyun lets Youngjae shower first and helps him dry his hair. Sitting tamely as Daehyun stands over him, Youngjae lets himself believe the heat of his cheeks root from the hair dryer.

Daehyun stops tussling his hair when he’s satisfied, putting away the dryer. He collects Youngjae’s clothes and thins his lips when Youngjae makes a sound of protest.

“Go to sleep. I’m going to shower and unpack our things. Don’t argue with me about it.” Daehyun tosses Youngjae’s clothes into the basket and turns off the light before entering the bathroom.

Despite wanting to help, as Youngjae waits for Daehyun to emerge, he ends up falling asleep. It’s only some hours later that he wakes up, his dream of cherry blossoms and holding hands dispersing.

The room is bathed in darkness. Youngjae groggily pries open his eyes, making out the empty bed beside his. The luggages are nowhere in sight, so Youngjae assumes Daehyun must have already finished.

Sighing softly, Youngjae curls up, shutting his eyes to go back to sleep. He opens his eyes just the slightest when he hears the door creak, light piercing into the room.

Daehyun shuts the bathroom door, wearing his shorts and a long-sleeved shirt. He boils some water and uses the dim light of his phone to sort through Youngjae’s luggage. Youngjae watches as Daehyun eventually pops a few pills.

It’s good that he’s doing something about his cough, even though he’s not keen on going to a pharmacy. Youngjae tiredly shuts his eyes, coughing softly as he tries to go back to sleep.

He hears Daehyun’s footsteps padding towards him. Then, a sweet, soft warmth brushes down his cheek, too intimate for his liking.

“Why are you so stupid?” Daehyun wheezes, cupping Youngjae’s cheek. His breath comes closer. “You’re just like me. I thought you’d be smarter.”

 The touch trails to Youngjae’s hair, combing softly with a care hard to feign. Youngjae flutters open his lashes and Daehyun removes his hand, though they both know it’s too late.

“You’re badmouthing me while I’m asleep?” Youngjae whispers. Sleep dribbles from his feeble words.

Daehyun sighs, showing some annoyance as he turns his gaze away. Or is it embarrassment?

“Why are you awake? Have you been awake all this time? You need to take care of what’s left of your health, now that you have the disease.”

“You never do, even though you have it all the time.” Youngjae wraps himself tighter in his blanket. “Is your cough better?”

“Yeah. What about you?” Daehyun hands over the painkillers from the bedside table, along with the glass of water he’d prepared.

Youngjae sits up. He swallows down the medication and downs the water. “Thanks.” He sighs, "I was hoping this could be a nice break for you to relax, but you're sick. It's almost like there's no difference."

“The cough isn't that bad. Go back to sleep. I’ve already taken out the clothes you’ll need for tomorrow.” Daehyun presses a fist to his mouth to muffle his cough.

Before Daehyun can stand, Youngjae clasps his wrist. The butterflies burst in his lungs in the form of flower petals and Youngjae holds on, basking in a masochistic happiness of their touch.

“Want to sleep together? It’s been a while,” Youngjae whispers, unaccustomed to the newfound nervousness. His once obliviousness made him bold without the fear and embarrassment of rejection.

“We have a whole other bed right here unlike in your small room, and you still want to share the bed?”

Youngjae purses his lips. “I just thought it’d be nice. The bed’s big enough for both of us,” he murmurs, some disappointment showing.

Daehyun doesn’t miss how his voice falls. He stares for a moment before dropping his head with a long exhale.

“Alright. Move over and I’ll join you later. But if you catch my cough, that’s your fault.”

Youngjae bites back an eager smile, tumbling to the side. Daehyun tidies up the desk and takes the blanket from his bed, hesitantly climbing into Youngjae’s bed.

“You’re so clingy,” Daehyun mutters under his breath.

Youngjae makes a face. “Fine, sorry for asking,” he retorts, “go back to your bed.”

Daehyun doesn’t answer him, settling in. He leans back when he realises how close their faces are and pulls Youngjae’s blanket up to his chin.

“Was today fun?” Youngjae asks. The moonlight frames Daehyun’s face dashingly, despite emphasising his wrinkles and consequently, their three years .

“Yeah. I really like the museum. Especially that pink handprints painting of a cherry blossom tree.”

Youngjae grins with pride. “You bought a few postcards for yourself too, even though you’re usually stingy with your money.”

“I’m not stingy. I always get you guys snacks,” Daehyun points out, lips pulled into a long line.

“Yeah, but you’re stingy when it comes to yourself.” Youngjae snuggles against his pillow, eyes shimmering with the moonlight. “I really liked the cherry blossom street. It was so pretty.”

“The shops there are cool too. Everything’s so traditional. I don’t think I saw any fast food chains at all,” Youngjae rambles excitedly.

Daehyun chuckles. “That’s true. It is a pretty old-fashioned area.”

The air tussles with the heavy smell of salt, faint splashes in the distance. Daehyun rubs his own throat.

“It hurts, doesn’t it? We don’t have to try all the food here. You should get light meals if you don’t want to make your sore throat worse.”

“It’s fine. I don’t get to come to Jeju often. I’ll survive.”

Daehyun can only sigh in return. He pinches Youngjae’s cheek and the man whines.

“There’s no getting through to you, huh?” He offers a resigned smile. Daehyun tries the words on his tongue first before continuing, “I’m sorry for asking you to get rid of the flowers. I was selfish.”

“You weren’t selfish.”

Daehyun persists in his smile. He breathes, “I was. I think there’s more than one reason why I did that.”

“And what’s that?”

Daehyun shrugs. He yawns and stretches his arms, ending with a loud sigh. “Do you remember the paintings we saw of those mythical flowers in the museum?”

“Oh, the ones about the warriors?”

“Yeah. There was a blue one that reminded me of an old story I heard. I think it was an Italian story.”

“What was it about?”

“This man who lived on his own in a castle, always wearing a mask because he thought he was ugly. He was born out of wedlock to a duke and a gardener’s daughter, so the duke’s wife tried to kill him. He was sent to live far away because of that and kept to himself. The only thing he loved was planting flowers in his garden.”

“Then, one day, he noticed a girl stealing flowers from his garden. He was mad at her and started guarding his flowers, but later, he started to wait for her. Then he found out the girl sold the flowers because she was poor and couldn’t afford food.”

“After watching her for some time, he fell in love with her. He wanted to confess to her but he wasn’t brave enough to show his face, because he thought he was disgusting. So, to help her, all he could do was plant more flowers for her to sell.”

“Eventually, he made a flower that didn’t exist anywhere else in the world. They call it the Smeraldo flower. He wanted to give it to her and tell her how he felt. He waited for her to come to give her the flower, but suddenly, she stopped coming. Later, he found out that the girl passed on from illness.”

“That’s so sad,” Youngjae murmurs. “He never even got to tell the girl how he felt.”

“It is,” Daehyun hums. “Even though it doesn’t exist, the Smeraldo flower’s supposed to mean the truth that couldn’t be said.”

“The moral of the story is to take your chances, isn’t it?” Youngjae guesses. His hair falls over the pillow as he shifts. “Because the man was scared, he ended up losing all his chances.”

“Yeah. That story was from a long time ago, seeing how it talks about flowers like they’re a good thing. My mother told me about it,” Daehyun says.

 “I like it. It’s true that you waste all the chances you don’t take and that they don’t wait for you,” Youngjae remarks.

“You’re not wrong. But it’s easier said than done, isn’t it?” Daehyun points out. “You want to try, but you don’t want to lose what you have.”

“I guess you just have to weigh it out. If it’s harder to risk losing than to remain at where you are now,” Youngjae simply concludes. “My friend was in this kind of situation just recently. He was offered a scholarship overseas but he didn’t take it to stay with his family. He doesn’t regret it.”

“That’s good for him. It must have been hard for him to choose. Overseas scholarships don’t come by easily.”

“Yeah, but he’s really smart. I’m sure he can find other opportunities in Korea. You were in the same boat, weren’t you? Having to choose between college and running the flower shop.”

Daehyun yawns. “That was a no-brainer for me. The flower shop’s my everything.”

Youngjae slowly bats his lashes. “I wish it wasn’t.”

Daehyun stares at him in confusion, before the expression simmers away into averted eyes. He releases a long sigh and turns onto his back, gazing up at the ceiling. The sea continues sloshing from afar, ripples muffled in the distance.

“I’m just curious. How would you feel if I lied to you?” Daehyun hoarsely starts.

Youngjae stares at Daehyun. “If? Don’t you already do that?”

Daehyun presses his hands to his face with a groan while Youngjae laughs boyishly. “Fine. How do you feel when I lie to you?”

“Why? Is there something I should know about? You can tell me. I won’t get mad,” Youngjae earnestly speaks.

“It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about all the times I’ve hidden things from you.” Daehyun looks over, eyes half-lidded. “You hate it, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Who would like being lied to?” Youngjae heaves. “You always brush off things, just so it won’t bother me. You lie about being sick. You lie about how the disease feels.”

“It doesn’t just make me angry, just so you know. It makes me sad. To know you’re going through all that and I’m there, knowing nothing,” Youngjae intones seriously, not breaking his gaze with Daehyun.

“You asked what I would think of you. Well, beyond that you’re super annoying and so stupid,” Youngjae rants, much to Daehyun’s grimace, “I don’t really think of you as a bad person, I guess.”

“You do it because you think it’s good for me, Hanbin, Jiwon… Never for selfish reasons.” Youngjae’s lips quirk loosely, a hint of forgiveness to his words. “Can’t fault someone for being stupid, can I?”

“Yeah. I hope your parents think that since you barely pass your exams.”

Youngjae makes a sharp noise, clearly offended. Daehyun dissolves into a lovely laugh, guttural and sandy. He breaks off into a loud cough that’s clearly worsening.

“And that’s not true,” Daehyun hoarsely admits, exhaustedly placing an arm over his eyes. “I can be selfish. Very. I’m sorry for that.”

Youngjae blinks at Daehyun. “So, you do lie about not being sick so I don’t nag and annoy you.”

Daehyun groans once again. “Not that, you idiot.” He pulls away his arm and veers his head to lock eyes with Youngjae.

The words seem to glimmer past his irises, but they don’t trickle from his lips. They’re left staring at each other while the flowers brim up to Youngjae’s throat. Youngjae swallows it back, cringing at the pain.

He reaches out and tenderly brushes Daehyun’s hair. “You mean the flower shop, don’t you?” Youngjae murmurs. “You want to keep the flower shop but you need to do blood flowering for that to happen. And I’m against it. So you lie that it doesn’t hurt. That you’ve got no clients when you do.”

Daehyun smiles. He lets out a low chuckle, turning away from Youngjae. His words are as though directed to the air, eyes trained on the ceiling.

“You’ve always forgiven me up till now. I really wonder where’s your limit. If I’ve already crossed it,” he says breathily, words tinged with remorse and blue.

Youngjae furrows his brows in worry. “Don’t say stuff like that. It sounds ominous.” He shifts closer and Daehyun’s glance immediately goes to him, as though wary.

“Do you want to tell me something?” Youngjae mumbles. “I won’t get angry.”

Silence trails Youngjae’s words as Daehyun continues absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. “I’m tired,” he suddenly states.

“I don’t think I can keep this up anymore. Being sick all the time. Feeling sick all the time.” His stare never deviates from the ceiling. “It’s been a year. I’m really tired.”

Youngjae props himself up on one arm to better get a view of Daehyun’s expression. It’s blank, like he’d been observing the weather and made trivial comments on it.

Youngjae hesitates, finding the right words. “It’s been really hard for you, hasn’t it? You put yourself through all that for the flower shop.”

“I… know you really love the flower shop,” Youngjae’s voice falls. “You were brought up with it. Your parents left it to you. So it’s hard for you to give it up.”

The hopefulness manifests in his voice. “But… what about you close it for the meantime? You can open it up when things get better, or move somewhere else. I’ll come and help whenever I can. It doesn’t mean you’ll be giving up the flower shop forever. Just for the time being.”

“Till things get better, huh?” Daehyun repeats, to which Youngjae nods earnestly.

“I’m not sure if that will happen. But maybe you’re right. Just because I want something doesn’t mean I should chase after it.”

Daehyun blinks long and slow, fatigue drawing in his wrinkles too early. His gaze leaps over to Youngjae and he seems to let out a shaky breath.

“To be truthful…” His whisper burns like on the brink of a secret, and then, the words evaporate momentarily.

The quietness triples into an aching worry for Youngjae. He waits patiently between the long seconds while the tides toil against the shoreline.

Suddenly, Daehyun cups his mouth, coughing heinously loud. He sits up abruptly and bends over, body shaking with coughs.

“Daehyun?” Youngjae hurriedly pats Daehyun’s back.

Daehyun swallows thickly and hesitantly pulls away his palm from his lips. “I’m alright,” he assures.

Youngjae hastily gets out of bed, getting a glass of water for Daehyun. As he crawls back into the bed, he stresses, “We’ll go to a pharmacy tomorrow, alright?”

“It’s fine. Like I said, I shouldn’t have eaten so much junk food. It’ll get better in a few days.”

“Daehyun…”

“Come on, I get the Hanahaki disease so often. This is nothing,” Daehyun reminds. He pats Youngjae’s head. “You should worry about yourself. You’re the stubborn newbie who wants to keep his flowers.”

Youngjae keeps mum. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”

“Then, it’s the same for me.” Daehyun slides down under the cover and turns away from Youngjae.

“Go to sleep. It’s getting late.”

The words Daehyun wanted to say remain a curiosity for Youngjae, but he doesn’t persist.

“Okay.”

--

The following days of their trip are spent in a mostly timid weather, Spring fresh in the cooling atmosphere. They ascend a trail up a mountain, passing by lush trees and camellia flowers. With the water trickling between the rocks as he climbs, Youngjae finds himself within a place that feels much like Daehyun. It’s magnificent and grand, yet the wordlessness leaves it with a stunning humility.

Much to his disappointment, Youngjae’s energy drains much faster than usual due to the disease, leaving him panting by the time they’ve finished the course. Daehyun notices, as expected, and cancels out the second waterfall course in their itinerary. They spend the remainder of their second day visiting local shops, indulging in native snacks. After stopping by a pharmacy for cough drops, they end the night at a cozy foot spa near their guesthouse.

On their third day, Youngjae brings Daehyun to a vast plain of canola flowers. Immediately, Daehyun falls in love with the picturesque sight, delight blooming in his eyes. They tread cautiously through the yellow blossoms and stop to watch the pinwheels whir. Other rustic wildflowers line the perimeter of the field, creating a lovely mesh of predominant sunshine yellow and drips of varying colours.

Throughout their walk, Daehyun gets several photos of Youngjae, much to the younger man’s annoyance. They then head to a beach in the evening, watching the sunset as they stand along the coast. Youngjae shuts his eyes to the ripples that never cease and Daehyun’s comforting presence by his side. It still hurts and he feels out of place in an ambience of romantic undertones. But his heart feels light in a place like this. The tranquillity seems to imply unrequited love as perhaps a joy in itself—to love without expecting a return,

Their fourth day is spent at a park boasting much greenery and then, an impressive coastal cliff. They have dinner at a tea leaves museum and get a box of locally grown tangerines. While the day goes by smoothly, Youngjae can only be worried with how Daehyun’s cough is getting worse. The bouts are more frequent and harsher, and he’s somehow touchier, jerking whenever they touch. Though he doesn’t show it, Youngjae can tell he’s weary by mid-afternoon. Worst, he takes a longer while to finish his meal, almost as if he can’t stomach it despite wolfing down his meals usually.

So, on their last day, Youngjae heads to the airport with a sense of relief. It would be good to send Daehyun home to rest first and then have him see a doctor in the evening. He’ll make sure to come over and drag Daehyun out, since he’ll probably just make an empty promise to placate Youngjae.

On the plane, Youngjae anxiously fidgets in his seat. Daehyun is sleeping beside him, head leaned back against the neck cushion after taking some Panadol. His face is awfully pale and it seems to draw effort just for him to speak. While he has no complaints of pain or nausea, probably to avoid troubling Youngjae, he looks concerned and antsy about his condition as well.

Youngjae heaves, guiltily squeezing his hands. Maybe if he’d listened to Daehyun and postponed the trip, Daehyun’s cough wouldn’t have worsened. It’s understandable that it did, considering the trip has been draining.

The sigh that tumbles out of Youngjae’s mouth when they land is weighty. However, Daehyun’s face has gotten alarmingly white, almost as though he’s a sheet of paper.

As they walk through the arrival hall, Youngjae blurts, “Daehyun, I think we should stop by the hospital first before going home. You look really pale.”

“I am?” Daehyun a brow, though his fatigued voice gives away his own awareness. “I’m fine. I probably just need to get some rest at home. I’ve already eaten medicine.”

They exit the airport to a gush of warm air. As they wait for a taxi, Daehyun bends forward slightly when a harsh cough tremors through his chest. Daehyun presses his hand hard to his mouth roughly and gulps gingerly. His hand presses against his stomach for a brief second but Youngjae notices it quickly. He noticed Daehyun holding his stomach yesterday but when he pried, Daehyun simply said he felt bloated.

“Your stomach’s hurting, isn’t it?” Youngjae frets. He holds Daehyun’s arm to help him straighten up.

Daehyun shakes his head. Much to Youngjae’s shock, Daehyun clutches his stomach firmly this time, bending over in clear pain. He lifts his head with some difficulty and sweat rolls down his pale face.

Youngjae hastily leads Daehyun over to a bench. “We have to get you to the hospital right now,” he panickedly lifts Daehyun’s face, fright doubling at the absolute pallour in Daehyun’s face. Youngjae’s fingers tremble as he brushes away the persistent, cold sweat down Daehyun’s forehead.

Youngjae glances to the long queue of taxis and blurts, “I’m going to call an ambulance.”

Daehyun’s breathing is laboured. “It’s not that seri-”

“Daehyun, please,” Youngjae nearly begs. “Let’s just go to the hospital, okay?”

Daehyun’s gaze flickers up to Youngjae’s eyes. Eventually, he relents with a nod.

After hurriedly getting some help from the airport staff, Youngjae is told to wait by the side as they load Daehyun onto a stretcher. He barely realises that he’s chewing on his nails till he tastes blood, realising he’s bitten too far. It’s a habit Daehyun got him to mostly quit but still remains when he’s extremely anxious.

Tremors run down Youngjae’s skin and the worry leaves a trace of tears in his eyes. It’s the first time he has ever seen Daehyun this sick. He’ll be fine, Youngjae’s sure of it. Nothing will happen. The doctors will fix whatever that’s wrong.

As Daehyun is pushed into the ambulance, he once again coughs, arching his back slightly. His hand doesn’t reach his mouth fast enough.

Then, yellow.

The world stops for Youngjae as something flutters out of Daehyun’s throat. They trickle onto the floor like wilted autumn leaves, some falling onto the stretcher and Daehyun’s chest.

Almost mockingly, one drifts over with the breeze to Youngjae’s feet. Youngjae crouches down and gingerly picks it up. Yellow like cheery sunshine, fully rich like the lemons they noticed in the fields. Youngjae stares at the curl in between his fingers, his mind drawing a complete blank.

It’s... the petal of a daffodil.

learnt about the story of the smeraldo flower based on bts - the truth untold