blood flowers

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Being in a hospital always reminds Youngjae of Daehyun’s Hanahaki surgeries. It’s the only reason he has visited hospitals in the last year, sitting in the waiting area with a soft drink can in hand. He’s grown accustomed to the scent of bleach and hushed voices, nurses briskly passing by along with some patients.

Sitting by the bed side, Youngjae gazes blankly at Daehyun. Another patient has occupied the neighbouring bed, speaking softly with her brother about being discharged in a few hours. The room is awfully bright but Daehyun continues sleeping, some colour having returned to his face.

Youngjae gently wipes the dribble down Daehyun’s chin and tucks Daehyun in. Through the hurried footsteps and the blur of seemingly everything, a thought lingered in his mind with a blaring yellow.

Daffodils. Youngjae had stood watching as the ambulance drove off, the flimsy daffodil petal in between his fingers. He shelved it in his mind as his legs automatically veered and he raced to the taxi stand.

It was frightening to see Daehyun so weak. Youngjae’s hands shook and he stuttered out his hospital address once he got into the taxi. Youngjae had absolutely no space to think about the flowers that came out from Daehyun’s mouth.

As he paced up and down the aisle, his heart was on the brink of dropping into his guts. Finally, the nurse informed that Daehyun was in stable condition. She mentioned that Daehyun specifically requested for them to contact Youngjae, having no other kin.

Youngjae’s fingers tremble. The residual anxiousness burns through his throat despite the nurse’s assurance. She’d simplified it for him and said she would return to explain to Daehyun as well when he woke up.

Daehyun has the Hanahaki disease. He’d grown flowers in his lungs, but instead of coughing them out, he chewed and swallowed them down. Daffodils carry a chemical toxic to humans, but they are likely to cause no tangible harm unless consumed at high doses. At most, they cause only mild symptoms, such as brief stomach pain and nausea.

Daehyun seems to have ingested them repeatedly over two to three days, which irritated his stomach. It’s likely that Daehyun’s feebleness from all the blood flowering contributed to the severity of the symptoms too, Youngjae thinks.

Thankfully, things are alright now, but it’ll take a while for him to wake up as he’s sedated. Once Daehyun is awake, he’ll be given the option to remove his flowers.

Evidently, Daehyun didn’t want him to know about it. He’s the reason why Daehyun swallowed down the flowers like a complete brainless idiot. Youngjae clenches his fist, but amidst the anger that thrashes in his chest, out seethes a heinous guilt.

He’s the reason for Daehyun’s suffering. If only they hadn’t gone for the trip. If only he hadn’t pestered Daehyun. Even if Daehyun’s the idiot who chose to swallow down flowers rather than show he was growing, this could all have been avoided if they never went on the trip in the first place.

Youngjae brushes back Daehyun’s hair tenderly. He muffles his cough, stepping out of the room to let the flowers flutter out. He throws the Wisteria petals into the bin.

Now, the question is: who is Daehyun growing flowers for? Youngjae can’t pin down a reason for Daehyun hiding his flowers unless he finds out who Daehyun is in love with.

Had he been blood flowering without Youngjae’s knowledge? Youngjae had immediately went to that conclusion. It makes sense that Daehyun would go so far as to swallow down the blood flowers to prevent Youngjae from realising he’s blood flowering.

But it usually takes 3 weeks for flowers to fully bloom. That’s about 8 meetings with the client in total. Daehyun got the Hanahaki surgery a little over 2 weeks ago. No, but there were cases where Daehyun took less than 3 weeks to grow flowers.

But Daehyun has been on the trip for five days and the rest of the time, Youngjae was mostly with him in the flower shop. Hanbin and Jiwon would definitely have let him know if Daehyun was meeting a client during work hours.

There’s still the possibility Daehyun may have met a client at night. It wouldn’t be the first time Daehyun has seen customers without Youngjae’s knowledge. One of his clients—Chaerin, was it?—hasn’t been logged in the record book. But Daehyun has spent most of his nights for the past two weeks checking up on Youngjae. He closes the shop at nine and pops by afterwards, spending a good hour or so together.

The daffodils are the issue. Youngjae remembers them well because those were the first set Daehyun sprouted. They were daffodils, and they were for Sunhwa. He’s never grown them for any other client. Is it a coincidence that Daehyun has allegedly been talking to Sunhwa more, giving her flowers and whatnot?

It’s either one of the two. Daehyun’s having a client behind his back or Sunhwa’s the reason for his flowers. Youngjae returns to the room and settles by Daehyun’s side.

The misery churns in his stomach. All Youngjae wanted was for this to be a nice break for Daehyun. He was so sure the trip could only be a good thing, since Daehyun wouldn’t be blood flowering and working. He could relax in a place that loved flowers like he did. He’d get to rest his lungs before having to start the heinous cycle of growing blood flowers again.

Yet, here they are in the hospital, Daehyun with his face paler and gaunter than before. The five days must have been painful for him, having to go out and explore while he bore Hanahaki flowers. Why couldn’t he have just said something to Youngjae?

If he had a blood flowering client, was what he said true, then? That he never planned to go for the trip and he had a client queued up. Would that mean everything Daehyun has said is a lie? That would explain fairly well why Daehyun tried to hide the blood flowers. He didn’t want to get another earful and for Youngjae to throw a big fuss.

Daehyun wouldn’t do that to him, right?

Youngjae doesn’t know. He’s exhausted and the tears keep threatening to spill. It feels like he knows nothing about Daehyun, even though they’ve been together for three long years. He’d willingly declare Daehyun as his closest friend and shamelessly announce that it’s how Daehyun sees him as well. Now, he’s not even sure he can call himself Daehyun’s friend.

Despite the thrashing plethora of emotions within him, Youngjae still remains by Daehyun’s side. He’s angry at Daehyun for hiding the flowers and hurting himself in the process, but it’s mostly blue that suffocates his chest. It feels like more Wisteria flowers have sprouted in his lungs like a plague. His heart is so heavy, but he can’t find it in himself to weep.

Sending a text message to Jiwon, Youngjae stares at the white curtains, listening to the distant sound of a train rattling across the tracks. He gets a reply within minutes that confirms Jiwon hadn’t seen Daehyun meet a client, nor did he leave the store for more than half an hour.

Why? Did you see him cough up flowers?

Youngjae isn’t sure what to say. He guiltily misses Jiwon’s call and brushes back Daehyun’s hair when the man coughs. Some daffodils trickle out and Youngjae picks them off, dumping them away.

Is it selfish to not want Daehyun to suffer? Youngjae cups Daehyun’s cheek, sighing shakily. He hates seeing Daehyun cough up flowers so much. It’s so frustrating. What will it take for Daehyun to stop?

Maybe he’s doing it for himself because it hurts him to see Daehyun in pain. Youngjae’s not sure if anything he’s done up till this point is right, wrong, selfish or selfless, if it even will help. But it doesn’t matter at this point.

Daehyun shifts at this moment, blankets drooping to the side. Youngjae pulls the blanket back over Daehyun’s chest.

Since Daehyun’s alright, Youngjae should bring back their luggages first. He should get some clothes for Daehyun too—Daehyun often complains that hospitals are too cold, so he brings a specific pair of thick socks to wear when he goes for his surgeries. 

Youngjae exits the hospital and flags down a taxi.

It’s so tiring to see Daehyun always in pain. For once, can’t the flowers leave him alone? Even on what’s supposed to be his break, they breed like pests within his lungs, unwilling to let go of him. All Youngjae asked for was a few weeks of peace, without those loathsome flowers clogging up Daehyun’s windpipe and making him gasp for breath. He only wanted Daehyun to be free from misery for just those few weeks, so why is it so hard?

Youngjae alights from the taxi after a long half an hour ride, stuck in traffic. He climbs the stairs to Daehyun’s floor and roams down the dim corridor. He spots a figure opposite Daehyun’s door.

Sunhwa looks to Youngjae. She sits at her doorstep, assembling some wooden pieces and fumbling due to her finger casts.

“Ah, hello, you’re Daehyun’s friend.” She offers a small, flustered smile upon recognising Youngjae, shifting aside her things. “Sorry. I’m putting together a bench.”

“Yeah. Hello,” Youngjae greets, returning an awkward smile. “To put at your door step?”

“Mm, it’s a little bare, so I thought to decorate. You guys are back from your trip,” she remarks, glancing behind in confusion when she doesn’t see Daehyun.

Youngjae nods. “Daehyun… had to stop by some place,” Youngjae fills in, not wanting to mention Daehyun’s Hanahaki flowers. The very reason for it could be right in front of him.

“I hope you guys enjoyed your trip,” Sunhwa hums.

“We did. Thank you.” Youngjae perks up. “Oh, Daehyun got you some postcards.” He moves to get them, but belatedly decides it’s better for Daehyun to give them himself.

“He did? He’s very kind.” Sunhwa’s surprise melts away into a warm chuckle.

“He is,” Youngjae agrees. Sunhwa’s words are innocent and they brew with a bittersweet obliviousness.

“It must be nice to work with him. I should make something nice for him,” Sunhwa murmurs thoughtfully

Youngjae can understand why she was Daehyun’s first love. Everything about her is gentle and soothing, almost like a reflection of Kim Jinhwan.

If it’s true that the daffodils are for her, Daehyun is a complete idiot. Talking to her, giving her flowers, buying her souvenirs… When will he learn not to get his heart tangled in a futile situation?

Youngjae hesitates, throwing a glance back. If she's the cause of Daehyun's Hanahaki disease, then, would it be right to tell her about it? Since Daehyun doesn't seem to be avoiding her at all, despite her being his first love.

Since Daehyun can't do it by himself... Maybe it's not wrong to get involved and have Sunhwa avoid Daehyun on his behalf. Youngjae knows it's terrible and he's humiliating Daehyun, but his health comes first, right?

Sunhwa stands and lifts her bench. She struggles for a bit due to her sprained fingers and Youngjae quickly takes the other end, moving it with her.

“It’s heavier than I thought,” Sunhwa beams, spending a moment admiring her work.

“You can put a lot of ornaments on it, since it’s long,” Youngjae comments amiably. He fishes out Daehyun’s keys just as Sunhwa turns to him.

“Thank you for the help. What’s your name? I’m Hana,” she introduces, eyes crinkling along the sides.

Youngjae blinks. “Hana?” He repeats, to which Sunhwa nods.

Youngjae knits his brows together. “I’m… Youngjae.”

He churns out a sheepish, confused smile. He must have misheard her. “Sorry, it’s Sunhwa, right?” he tries again, in case she hadn’t heard him properly.

“No, it’s Hana. You got it right the first time,” she laughs.

Youngjae draws a blank. His frown deepens and he parts his lips, taking a while to speak.

“But Daehyun said your name is Sunhwa.”

Hana flutters her long lashes. “No, no. I think you may have misheard him. My name is Hana.”

Youngjae stares back in absolute befuddlement. It can’t be that he has been mishearing Daehyun all this time. He remembers clearly Daehyun saying that his first love’s name was Sunhwa. The first time Youngjae came across her, Daehyun had also confirmed that she was Sunhwa.

Daffodils. As ridiculous as it sounds, maybe Daehyun’s gotten her name wrong all this time?

“Daehyun knows your name is Hana, right?” Youngjae blurts, feeling a little stupid for his question. His bewilderment doubles when Hana nods slowly.

What if he’d gotten the person mixed up? Youngjae is sure this was the girl Daehyun mentioned was Sunhwa. Even if they have only met twice, Youngjae remembers her face. Even if he’s forgotten how she looks like, Youngjae remembers clearly that Sunhwa lives opposite Daehyun. She had entered the unit opposite Daehyun’s apartment when Youngjae first saw her.

“Is something wrong?” Hana asks.

“No, sorry,” Youngjae murmurs, trying hard to put two and two together. “Um, do you happen to know anyone by the name of Sunhwa living in this building?”

“Hm, I’m pretty sure there isn’t… Since there’s only three floors, I’ve seen everyone who lives here. They’re mostly elderly people,” Hana provides.

“Then, anyone who previously lived here?” Youngjae attempts, desperation clear in his voice.

“I don’t think so. I moved in last Spring, though, so I’m not too sure.”

Youngjae lights up. “Oh, then…”

“The people who lived here before me was my grandparents,” Hana apologetically answers before Youngjae can ask. “Is this Sunhwa someone important?”

Youngjae presses a hand to the nape of his neck, feeling a headache coming on. “No, sorry. I just…”

Hana evidently notices Youngjae’s troubled look. She offers sweetly, “Do you want me to ask the security guard for you? Since I’m a resident, I’m sure he’ll answer.”

“Yeah,” Youngjae breathes, churning out a grateful smile. “Thank you. I’d really appreciate it.”

They head down to the small security office. While the security guard has been working in this building for the past twenty years, he’s never heard of a young woman living here by the name of Sunhwa.

Thanking Hana, Youngjae apologetically bids her farewell and enters Daehyun’s apartment.

If that’s not Sunhwa, then who is? Youngjae throws himself on the couch, mind in a flurry. He combs his hair back in exasperation and tries to settle his pounding heart.

It doesn’t make sense. Daehyun clearly said that neighbour was Sunhwa. He couldn’t have heard wrong.

Youngjae goes to take a shower. The water streaks down his back and tries its best to flood away all of Youngjae’s misgivings. Some Wisteria flowers drip out as well when Youngjae coughs, falling onto Youngjae’s feet.

He stays in there till his fingers turn pruned. As he sits in the living room, a towel draped over his head, he stares into nothingness for what seems like forever. Only till he notices the night fall does he get up.

Youngjae grabs Daehyun’s socks, jackets and a fresh pair of clothes to change out into, putting them into a tote bag. He boards a taxi as the thoughts continue , mind thrown into an absolute turmoil.

Daehyun’s first love is Sunhwa. A girl who loved flowers, who Daehyun thought of as kind and clumsy, the first person Daehyun gave his heart to.

Youngjae pestered him previously, asking if the girl living opposite him was Sunhwa. Daehyun admitted it.

So why did she say her name was Hana?

The scenery bleeds by with the darkness, traffic lights seething against the windscreen. The radio plays a pop song Youngjae doesn’t register, too caught up in nerve-wracking thoughts. He doesn’t understand anything.

Maybe Daehyun lied about Hana’s name. That’s possible and what would make the simplest sense. Perhaps he felt uneasy giving out Hana’s real name, so he gave a fake one.

But Hana said she moved in last Spring. Daehyun fell in love with Sunhwa two years ago, in Autumn.

The fact that he has not seen Hana till last year, even though he visited Daehyun regularly two years ago, confirms what Hana has said. Even then, he found it strange then that he never saw Sunhwa despite him spending so much time with Daehyun. But maybe Daehyun got to know her when she was visiting her grandparents.

Youngjae bites his nails, anxiousness crawling through his skin. He can’t breathe. Is Sunhwa even real, or did he make her up? Why would he?

Who were Daehyun’s first Hanahaki flowers for?

Youngjae presses back a cough, holding his chest as though he’s about to throw up his heart. It never made sense that Daehyun fell in love with a girl who Youngjae knew nothing of. They were glued to the hip for the whole of summer, only for Daehyun to suddenly throw up flowers in autumn that year.

Daehyun doesn’t have many friends beyond him. He’s not close to his high school friends, meeting up with them once or twice in a year. The only text messages he gets are from customers and the flower shop staff, save his new friend Jinhwan.

From the moment Youngjae met Daehyun, he could already tell Daehyun wasn’t the kind to keep friends. He was cold, spoke little and didn’t seem at all interested in getting to know Youngjae. The only time he seemed remotely warm was towards his flowers, handling them with tenderness so contrasting to his aloof attitude.

For a month, it was just them in the small, dainty flower shop down the street. Youngjae found the atmosphere somewhat unbearable at times, but he loved learning about flowers from Daehyun, so he kept to the job. Somehow, this common love gradually opened Daehyun up to Youngjae.

They started having dinner together in the shop instead of separately, sitting together at the counter. Occasionally, Youngjae would get chips from the convenience store and they would snack while manning the front. As Daehyun taught him more on how to take care of the plants, he started showing him his prized books about flowers. He would avidly explain to Youngjae their shapes and textures, regretting that he couldn’t bring in the real thing, and the climates they were most suited for.

Then, they began watching movies together on off days at the nearby cinema, stuffing snacks into their bags and sneaking them into the theatre. Daehyun would treat him to a round of bowling and mock how Youngjae threw the ball.

During work hours, the quietness started filling up with boisterous laughter and stupid jokes. Youngjae liked hot pot dishes so Daehyun would close up the shop early and have him over for dinner. He let Youngjae sleep over for the first time when the college boy drank too much.

As sleeping over grew more frequent, Daehyun started coming over as well. He would do the laundry for Youngjae, nagging him for being lazy. Youngjae paid back the favour by cleaning Daehyun’s place.

Soon, Jiwon joined the group and brought in Hanbin later on. It became them four in a noisy flower shop once so silent, previous inhabitants a quiet florist and his dozens of flowers. Hanbin and Jiwon thought Daehyun and Youngjae were childhood friends, from how comfortable and stuck together they were.

In autumn, Daehyun grew daffodils in his lungs. He said they were for a neighbour who clearly didn’t see him the same way. Youngjae begged him to go for the operation but Daehyun refused to. More than a month later, he gave up and went for the Hanahaki operation.

The daffodils came back again. This time, Daehyun went for the operation immediately.

Afterwards, he stopped coming to the flower shop so often. Stopped asking Youngjae to come over, said he didn’t feel like it when Youngjae asked him out for bowling. He seemed busy—with what, Youngjae didn’t know.

It got to a point that Youngjae felt he was missing a part of himself. He was heartbroken like the blue sorrow of a drooping bellflower, hurt like the violet bruise of a sea holly. Being ever so earnest and innocent like a daisy, Youngjae sadly told Daehyun that he missed him.

Then, Daehyun grew yellow tulips. He said he was sorry—he’d been experimenting as he wanted to expand into blood flowering, so he was busy. It seemed so unlike Daehyun to treat people so carelessly, to even term his love for a girl an experiment for a business. Despite Youngjae pleading with him to consider it thoroughly, Daehyun went ahead and became a blood florist.

Daehyun has never enjoyed being around people. In fact, it seemed like he hated being with others when Youngjae first met him. Daehyun lived a complicated life that was hard to tell from the surface, finding solace only in the wordless, delicate flowers.

For a person who preferred flowers to people, Youngjae wondered for some time how Daehyun could fall in love so easily upon command. He thought it was because Daehyun found it easy to see good in others. He liked his first blood flowering client despite her haughtiness as she seemed like someone who was determined. He liked his second as she seemed a little clumsy. He liked his third customer as she had large, glassy eyes, innocent like a daisy.

There was once, prior to the blood flowering, that Daehyun said Youngjae was the only person he spent time with. After his parents passed on, Daehyun didn’t have anyone in his life till Youngjae came along. The doe-eyed, sharp-mouthed assistant florist who walked in with a wonderment hard to feign, who snipped off a rose on his first day and got yelled at.

Youngjae feels nauseous and he has to bite back the tears, else they’ll be wasted on someone completely undeserving. Sunhwa doesn’t exist, does she? What does it all mean? He doesn’t want to know at this point.

The Wisteria flowers bleed out of Youngjae’s mouth and he crumples them in his palm. His throat thumps with a dull pain and he feels more feverish than before. He’s not sure what to think of everything.

Daehyun grew flowers on their trip. Youngjae was the one by his side. He was the one who spent the most time with Daehyun after his operation for Jinhwan’s blood flowers, Daehyun taking care of him in his sick condition.

It can’t be, right? He’s overthinking things. Nothing makes sense to Youngjae anymore.

Just how much has Daehyun lied to him about? How little does he trust him?

The hallways of the hospital are chilly, visitors streaming in and out. Youngjae enters the ward to find Daehyun sitting up.

The relief immediately sweeps over Youngjae, leaving the anger and hurt misplaced in a mess of emotions. His fragile sadness hardens into a pitiful face of numbness. Youngjae realises just how overwhelmed by fatigue he is, both physical and mental.

“Hey,” Daehyun greets with a smile.

Youngjae lowers his gaze. “Hey.”

“Have you eaten?” Daehyun shifts closer.

“No.”

“Oh, then let’s go eat. It’s already eight. You must be hungry.” Daehyun reaches over to pat Youngjae’s head. Youngjae turns away, edging Daehyun’s hand off him.

He’s so insufferably irritating. This is what he worries about after being sent to the hospital? Youngjae was worried sick, fingers bleeding from his incessant chewing, and Daehyun wants to act like nothing happened? He really does take Youngjae for a fool.

“I’m not hungry.”

Daehyun pulls back his hand and gazes at him. “Sorry for worrying you,” he stars soothingly. “I’m fine now. It was just a stomach ache. I’ve applied for a discharge so I can go soon.”

“When did you apply for it?” Youngjae asks quietly. He wants to get angry, but the exhaustion chains his feelings down. “Did the nurse say it’s good for you to go?”

“More than an hour ago. She said I should stay the night to be monitored just in case, but it’s not a big deal. I’ll just go find Himchan tomorrow.”

Youngjae doesn’t bother arguing. “So, you’re not going for the operation today?”

“What operation?”

“The Hanahaki operation.”

Daehyun bats his lashes, clearly taken aback that Youngjae’s aware of it. His gaze dips to the blanket and he finds his words after a short delay.

“No,” he breathes. “Tomorrow. Himchan will do it for me.”

Youngjae gets up and dusts his pants. “I’ll be waiting outside. Call me when they let you go.”

Without throwing even a glance behind him, Youngjae leaves the room, fingernails jammed into his palm. He really wonders how long Daehyun planned to hide it. Was he going to continue swallowing flowers to keep up the pretense?

Jung Daehyun is ridiculous. Absolutely ing ridiculous. Youngjae trembles with anger, hating that the only thing he can do is cry. He hastily wipes away the tears and takes in several deep breaths, focusing on the sky. As he follows the passing airplanes and satellites, his respiration evens out, tension falling away from his chest.

It takes half an hour more for Daehyun to be discharged. When he finally emerges, he’s wearing the jacket Youngjae got for him and carrying the tote bag of clothes. He jogs over and awkwardly smiles, nudging Youngjae towards the pavement.

As the taxi speeds down the highway, the city bleeds into a whir of grey and occasional neon, nightfall blurring the signs and faces. Quietness chokes the modest space between Daehyun and Youngjae, but Youngjae pays absolutely no heed, staring out the window absentmindedly.

The shadow of Daehyun’s gaunt figure stings Youngjae’s eyes. Though he sees Daehyun shift closer in the reflection of the window, he says nothing.

“Sorry,” Daehyun hoarsely begins. “You must have been running around a lot today because of me.”

Youngjae ignores Daehyun’s words. “Why didn’t you get the operation today?”

“…I called Himchan. He says it’s better to rest for a night before doing the operation, since I’m still weak.”

“The nurse told you to stay overnight,” Youngjae says matter-of-factly, not bothering to face Daehyun.

“It’s better for me to find Himchan. It’s not on my record that I’ve done multiple surgeries, so they won’t take that into consideration,” Daehyun quietly divulges.

The radio host blabbers through the crackling console speakers. Youngjae rests his head against the car window, shifting a little so he can put more distance between him and Daehyun.

His worries betray his fatigue and anger. “Are you feeling better?” Youngjae asks, so soft that anyone would strain to hear.

“Yeah. Thanks for asking.” Daehyun scratches his head. “It wasn’t that bad at first, but after I woke up and got off the plane, it got a lot worse. I would have gone to a doctor if I’d known it’d get that bad.”

“Oh.” Youngjae shuts his eyes.

Daehyun does not try to bother him. After an unbearably long ride, they finally reach Daehyun’s apartment. Youngjae gets out and walks ahead without waiting for Daehyun.

“I’ll send you back,” Daehyun calls out, jogging to catch up with him.

Youngjae ignores him, taking out Daehyun’s house keys. He unlocks the door and tosses the keys onto the table, going straight for his luggage. Daehyun immediately goes to help him, getting Youngjae’s backpack as well.

“I’ll bring them down. Go wait by the main road and I’ll send you back.”

Youngjae continues not to spare him a glance. He grabs his backpack from Daehyun and takes out the lozenges Daehyun stuffed inside, putting them on the table.

Youngjae wants to leave without giving a single ounce of attention to Daehyun. He should, really. In fact, he should quit his job at the flower shop if he’s so tired of Daehyun and his ridiculous antics.

But his lips sting like brushed by a poison ivy. Youngjae remains staring at the floor for a good few seconds before finally meeting Daehyun’s eyes.

“Are you going to let me leave like this?” He asks. Even he is surprised by just how devoid of emotions his voice is.

Daehyun flutters his lashes. He dips his head and hoarsely whispers, “Sorry.”

“I don’t care about your apologies anymore, Daehyun,” Youngjae wheezes, running a hand through his bangs. “Just stop with them. Please.”

Daehyun coils his fingers, stepping closer with some unsureness. “The Hanahaki flowers,” he starts, losing momentum immediately.

“Did you have a client? Or was it because of Sunhwa?” Youngjae shuts his eyes and presses his forearm to his forehead.

A long pause ensues. “I…”

“Oh, sorry. I meant Hana,” Youngjae hums, cutting off Daehyun. “She introduced herself today when I came over. Why didn’t you correct me all this time? Did you not know her name too?”

“Ah… I guess they do sound alike. Hana. Sunhwa. Any three-year-old would confuse them. Sorry, two-year-old.” His tone seethes with sardonicism. “Maybe you should go back to school to learn phonics again, Daehyun. You need help differentiating names like that?”

Finally, the weariness shreds him down completely. Like the wisteria flowers from his lips, tears rip from his eyes.

“Just how much have you lied to me about?” Youngjae grits, body shuddering. “I’m so sick of you. You’re so ing horrible, Jung Daehyun. I can’t trust anything you say.”

“Youngjae,” Daehyun whispers with utmost remorse. “I’m-”

“I told you not to say you’re sorry! I’m so ing sick of it!” Youngjae glares at him through teary eyes. He stands and shakes Daehyun off when Daehyun attempts to grab his wrist.

“Wait, please,” Daehyun begs, his grip desperate. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“This was supposed to be a break for you to rest. For you to be free of that ing disease,” Youngjae seethes miserably, wet warmth streaking down his cheeks. “I just wanted you to have a good time for a few weeks without having to suffer.”

His volume drops as the confusion blooms in his watery eyes, overlaying a mounting fear. “So, why do you have flowers in your lungs? You went so far as to swallow them down just to hide it from me, and look what happened. You ended up at the ing hospital!”

“Did you have a client behind my back? Is it because you kept talking to that neighbour, Hana? Sunhwa—is she real?”

Daehyun stares back without a word, face contorted with sorrow. The tears line his eyelashes.

It’s been more than a year since Daehyun began blood flowering. Two years since he first grew Hanahaki flowers, helplessly clinging on to his daffodils. Three years since he met Youngjae in the dying days of Winter, holed up in a flower shop with nothing but wariness in his eyes.

The steely guardedness Daehyun once held melted in the vibrant Spring and soon enough, he was as warm as summer itself. His words were painfully few but gestures plentiful, showing Youngjae love like he did with his flowers—perhaps because he only knew how to love that way.

It’s been so long since they became close friends, through the seasons that changed outside the quaint flower shop down the street. In winter, they walked together through the snow as Daehyun’s breath fogged up his glasses, shoes sinking with a soft crunch. Then spring came, and Daehyun mused about how nice the streets would look with flowering shrubs. The summer sunshine soon brimmed through the glass windows as Daehyun muttered under his breath about the heat, offering Youngjae a popsicle. Autumn brought along the prickling gusts and dead leaves, so Daehyun bought a thick woollen scarf for Youngjae.

Youngjae lowers his head as the trembles wrack through his body. His tears drip onto Daehyun’s feet.

“Please… don’t lie to me anymore. I’m tired of trusting you, only for you to cheat me again and again.”

Gingerly, Youngjae lifts his shaky gaze to look into Daehyun’s eyes. He grasps Daehyun’s wrists. “Tell me who the flowers are for. Please, Daehyun.”

Honestly, Youngjae doesn’t want to hear the answer. He doesn’t want to believe it. He helplessly watched Daehyun suffer and tried all he could to ease his pain. He’s tired of it all at this point.

Still, the truth spills from Daehyun’s chapped lips.

“You.”

Daehyun’s whisper burns with a hoarseness, so soft yet so stinging. The tears streak down his face like everything has finally collapsed from his shoulders.

Youngjae looks at him, fingers trembling over Daehyun’s wrists. He glances away as the tears blur his vision, absolutely incapable of saying a word. He tries once, twice, and then, all that comes out is a heartbroken sob.

“What do you mean? The flowers are for me? Which ones, the first? This one?” Youngjae wails. His chest constricts as though the Wisteria flowers are begging to escape, choking him all the way up his throat. Youngjae weakly arches his back as the petals fall from his lips.

Daehyun swallows, visibly shuddering. “All of them,” he exhales in a piteously shaky voice.

“What do you mean all of them?!” Youngjae nearly shrieks. He lets go and presses his hands to his eyes, body wracking with sobs.

 “I’m sorry,” Daehyun wheezes.

“I already told you. Don’t say you’re sorry when you’re not,” Youngjae weeps miserably. “Tell me what you mean.”

“…The blood flowers. They were for you. All of the flowers I’ve ever grown,” Daehyun croaks. “I’m not a blood florist. I can’t fall in love with anyone that I want. It… it was just you.”

Youngjae feels his heart breaking apart. He sinks to his knees and Daehyun crouches down, gently grasping his shoulders.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Youngjae,” Daehyun murmurs, remorse so grim and heavy. He presses his arm to his mouth, coughing out more yellow petals.

“All this time… You were growing those flowers for me?” Youngjae sobs, gasping for breath. “You lied to me. You lied to everyone!”

“I’m sorry.” Daehyun slowly winds his arms around Youngjae, pulling him into his chest. The tears blot his shirt as he continues to cough, yellow petals falling into Youngjae’s hair.

Youngjae doesn’t push him away. “You’re so stupid, so ing stupid, god… Why did you do it? How could you do this to yourself? You should have stayed away from me once you got the first one, not- not lie and keep getting the disease!”

He sobs like he’s grieving, chest aching with so much pain. “You’ve been in so much pain for so long. You told me it hurts. You’re so thin now and always so tired, always so weak—for what? For me?”

“Sorry,” Daehyun whispers. “I didn’t want you to know, so I made up Sunhwa. After I got rid of the first Hanahaki flowers, they grew back because I didn’t stay away. So after the second operation, I tried to.”

His breath shudders against Youngjae. “But you said you missed me. And it wasn’t fair to make you leave the flower shop because of me. How could I? You loved it so much.”

Youngjae remembers that chilly night, him burrowed into the woollen scarf Daehyun got for him. Daehyun’s cheeks were red from the wind and he was in a hurry to leave, as always. He was barely even in his very own flower shop anymore. Hurt that Daehyun couldn’t even make time for one supper, Youngjae spoke from his blue heart.

He missed Daehyun, dearly, like a meek flower looking for rain. He sadly asked if he did something wrong and offered to fix it. Anything, really, if they could go back to how they were.

Youngjae realises just how cruel he was. Daehyun was forced to stay away from the flower shop he loved because Youngjae was a staff. Youngjae’s careless words only served to drag Daehyun back into what he was direly running from.

Daehyun brushes away the yellow petals in Youngjae’s hair. “I didn’t expect to grow those tulips for you. Since they weren’t daffodils, I thought I could hide it from you. If I grew daffodils for the third time, I knew you would have interfered and tried to do something about Sunhwa. Then, you’d realise. If you thought the Hanahaki flowers were blood flowers, we could still spend time with each other and maybe one day, the flowers would stop growing.”

He tenderly lifts Youngjae’s face, thumbing away the tears.

“I really feel bad for lying to you. I didn’t expect it to go on for so long. I thought I’d get tired of falling in love with you after a few times, but up till now, I still haven’t learnt my lesson,” Daehyun heaves softly, whispering against Youngjae’s hair. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Youngjae sobs as his grip tightens into Daehyun’s shirt.

Through the countless days and nights, Daehyun coughed up his lungs, sickly and in pain. Camellias, lilies, primroses, forget-me-nots, carnations—it seemed like every single flower had been in Daehyun’s lungs by then as the months torturously drifted by. His sore throat made it difficult to eat and there didn’t seem to be a day where he didn’t cough. His cheekbones started to show and he looked more and more haggard, clearly a consequence of his chronic illness. He was too exhausted to spend time with Youngjae outside of work and almost felt hopeless.

“You’re seriously so, so stupid. You should have told me right from the start! You lied that you were doing it for the flower shop! Did you really think it was worth it to suffer so long, to do something wrong because of me? All because I missed you and you thought it wasn’t fair to fire me… you went so far to pretend to be a blood florist? Are you insane?”

“I wasn’t lying when I said the shop wasn’t going to last if I didn’t find an income elsewhere. I didn’t have any solutions. Blood flowering wasn’t just an excuse. It was to help the flower shop at first,” Daehyun answers.

Youngjae shakes his head, gasping softly for breath. Tears continue scraping down his cheeks. “No, you didn’t have to do that. You didn’t have to put that on your conscience. You could have just told me and we would have found another way. How could you do something like that for me? You must have felt so bad.”

Daehyun sighs. He hoarsely admits, “It’s true that I feel guilty about what I’m doing. I know it’s wrong to sell off the Hanahaki flowers as blood flowers.”

His voice dwindles. “At the same time, it’s cruel for those clients to pay people to contract the Hanahaki disease, just so they can have a souvenir of themselves. I know it’s still wrong, but thinking they would have made someone else do it when the flowers don’t even mean anything, it didn’t make me feel as bad.”

Youngjae childishly shakes his head again. He whimpers, shutting his eyes as Daehyun cradles his head apologetically. “It’s my fault. Because of me…”

“Don’t feel bad for what I did. It’s not your fault. It’s true I did it partly for the flower shop,” Daehyun breathes. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it is. You wouldn’t even have it as an option if it weren’t for me. I made you suffer for so long,” Youngjae cries, choking on his sobs. He swallows, gasps for breath and weeps harder than before. “So many times, you grew flowers because of me. Because I was stupid and told you I wanted to spend time with you.”

“It’s not just for you. It’s for me, too. I could have told you from the start, but I didn’t want to.” Daehyun murmurs, offering a sad smile. “You would have left if I told you the truth, wouldn’t you? I didn’t know if you’d be disgusted.”

Something wet drips into Youngjae’s hair. Daehyun holds him tighter, taking a moment to collect himself.

“I liked being with you. Didn’t matter if you didn’t love me back, even though it hurt. I was selfish and didn’t want you to leave. So I didn’t tell you,” he croaks through his tears. “It was all for me, honestly.”

“Now that you know, don’t quit the flower shop. Don’t stay away from me. I’ve thought about it many times, and that’s worse than having the Hanahaki disease,” Daehyun coughs, yellow petals continuously trickling from his torn lips.

“The disease really isn’t that bad. So, do it for me.”

Youngjae’s heart plummets in agony, feeling so sorry for everything he’s put Daehyun through. He glances up as Daehyun combs away the daffodil petals from his hair, eyes forlorn and pleading. He softly coughs, pulling away his palm to see more Wisteria petals—but this time, they’re browning at the edges.

Youngjae widens his eyes in surprise. The remaining tears welled up in his eyes drip over his lashes.

“My Wisteria flowers aren’t for Jisook,” Youngjae croaks. “They’re for you.”

Daehyun’s brows crease. Before he can say anything, Youngjae whimpers.

“It wasn’t Jisook who fell out of love. It was me. I… I thought you didn’t love me back. That you’d never be able to without forcing yourself to. And I didn’t want that.”

“I love you,” Youngjae sobs, hastily wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry for not telling you. I was scared. All because of that, I made you wait even longer. I’m so sorry, Daehyun.”

Daehyun parts his lips, wordlessly gazing down at the crying college boy. He hesitantly guides away Youngjae’s arms and takes a moment to find the courage to speak.

“Don’t say it just because you feel sorry for me, Youngjae,” Daehyun whispers. His voice cracks. “You’re just making things harder for me. It’s cruel, you know that?”

Youngjae holds out his small palm, desperately showing Daehyun the wilting flower petals. “I’m not lying. I think they’re withering now because you love me back. I really do love you,” Youngjae croaks, words blue like a bruise.

“I didn’t want to get the operation because I thought I’d stop worrying about you as much and I’d have to stay away. You don’t take care of yourself. How can I just let you be?” Youngjae breathes. “It’s like what you said. I didn’t want to be away from you too.”

Daehyun’s grip shakes. He tries to speak several times, and when he finally musters up the words, he breaks out into a heavy cough. The yellow petals burst from his lips and fall into his lap. Daehyun picks one up, fingers trembling as he notices how the daffodil petals are now curled up.

His gaze flickers to Youngjae’s teary eyes. Abruptly, Daehyun envelops Youngjae in a suffocating hug, burrowing Youngjae into his chest.

“You mean it?” He weeps, tears wetting Youngjae’s shoulder. “Don’t lie to me, Youngjae. You’re not being nice by taking pity. It’s really ing cruel.”

“I’m not. I do love you,” Youngjae croaks. He winds his arms around Daehyun, resting against his chest as he coughs weakly. “I don’t know when I started, but I really do. I’m sorry for not telling you earlier.”

“You’re so stupid. Seriously. You didn’t want to get the operation because you were scared no one would take care of me?” Daehyun wheezes, swallowing thickly. He coughs up more withering daffodil petals.

“You’re always so stupid. I’ve told you so many times not to be so nice to me, haven’t I? Now, you even like me? I can’t give you anything. You know that. You never listen to anything I say.”

Daehyun buries his face into Youngjae’s neck, crying pitifully. Each sob sends a tremble down Youngjae’s skin, but he eases into Daehyun’s warmth, both wallowing in a bittersweet happiness. He seems much like a Wisteria now, head lowered like the humble, drooping branches and tears like the shy, apologetic flowers.

On many days, Youngjae worried about the hopelessness Daehyun seemed to be trapped in. He trudged around with lethargy like there would be no end to his suffering, breaths slow and flower petals ever-present on his lips. But enduring like the strong Wisteria trees, he chose what he thought made him the happiest despite his agony.

Daehyun was a young florist left behind by his parents, disdained by others for loving the cursed tokens of a tragic disease. So, he remained cooped up in his flower shop, taking care of the innocent flowers so misunderstood by everyone else. Till one day, a doe-eyed college freshman wandered into his store, looking around with a tinge of worry but a refreshing enthrallment.

In a piteous season of withering flowers, Daehyun coughed up daffodils with a heartwrenching dread. As the cause of his disease stood on the other side of the door, refusing to leave in worry, Daehyun felt many things. He was frightened by Youngjae looking at him with disgust; he worried Youngjae would leave him. He was angry that he ruined his own happiness, unable to control his heart. Most of all, he was sorry—to himself and to Youngjae.

So, he resigned himself to a fate he thought he deserved—as the odd florist down the street with no one in his life but his clumsy, loving assistant. Maybe one day he would finally learn his lesson and stop falling in love.

However, as the months passed and the cycle repeated itself so heinously, Daehyun thought he’d never see an end to his suffering. But it was alright as he grew used to it. Perhaps he’d end it once and for all when he reached his breaking point, but till then, he would just live like this.

As the tears wither away into shadows on his cheeks, Youngjae leans back, the last of his Wisteria flowers fall from his mouth. His chest feels much lighter, as if both the physical and emotional weight of being in an unreciprocated love has been lifted off him. The mess of petals are littered all over their laps, Daehyun still coughing up the dried up yellow petals.

The guilt continues to churn in Youngjae’s guts. He feels so, so sorry for putting Daehyun through so much pain while being stupidly oblivious. Still, the tearful happiness gives him hope for the days to come—without the Hanahaki disease.

Cupping Daehyun’s cheek, Youngjae wipes away Daehyun’s tears as he coughs up the last of his daffodil flowers. He embraces Daehyun tenderly, finding solace in the warmth of his closest friend and the absent Hanahaki disease.

For once, Daehyun’s lungs are free from flowers.

one more chap~