She coughs up petals - beautiful pieces of calla lilies tinted with blood -, and looks into the mirror. Her eyes are bloodshot, is covered in blood, her hair roots are showing through the faded pink dye. She’s a mess, simply put.

Wong Kahei doesn’t need a professional diagnosis to know this is Hanahaki disease setting in. Sure, she had heard of it - hushed schoolyard whispers while looking at a classmate who seemed to be fading every day a little bit more, who looked longingly at some boy, the petals of a rose still clinging to her lower lip -, but Kahei never expected to be a sufferer of it, herself.

Some people had it. Some didn’t. It wasn’t an exact science, and no one knew why; scientists thought it was a genetic predisposition, psychologists thought it was the brain, working against the body: all everyone knew is that they wished they were the lucky ones to not have it, to be deluded into thinking their love was corresponded.

Unfortunately, Kahei wasn’t one of the lucky ones. Cleaning her face, the taste of water was acrid with blood as she splashed it around like mouthwash, taking the last pieces of flower from her teeth. Who, after all, wants their love to not be corresponded?

She can feel a garden blooming in her lungs, wildlife thriving against her ribs. Kahei knows that it only sets in after someone loves another and it’s unrequited, when freely given love is not returned. A curse, given by a witch many years ago. A curse, which medicine could solve, but to a cost: surgery would take the garden in her lungs, and the petals would take the memory of her love.

Kahei knew she would die because of this sickness, but she was also not willing to lose her memories of the one she loved; as such, she cleaned herself, tied her hair so the roots wouldn’t show anymore, and went back to class.

Haseul was sitting at her table, and Kahei stopped at the door, when she saw this. She looked worried, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, foot tapping the ground in an anxious manner, and her heart made leaps and bounds, like a frog against her heart.

She knew that Haseul didn’t love her back. The garden in her chest buzzed with love, and buzzed with despair.

Still, Kahei had to face the music. She smiled, and approached Haseul, pretending she hadn’t gotten a death sentence tight against her neck.

“Haseul.” She softly called, behind the girl in question, voice so low it was barely heard. Haseul turned her face to Kahei, and the frog on her chest butted its head against her heart.

“Vivi!” Haseul said, the nickname easy on the tongue. She liked the nickname. It was warm. “Where were you? We looked for you, but we...”

The phrase died on the air, as Haseul rose from her chair, hands grabbing Kahei’s own hands. They were cold and clammy, and Haseul’s were warm and dry.

“Sorry.” She smiled, softly as possible, hoping no flowers are stuck to her teeth and peeking through her lips. “I had to make a call.”

Haseul blushed slightly at that (that frog, once more, on her heart) and nodded.

“Oh, alright. We just got worried, you simply… Spirited off. Have you eaten?” Haseul asked, allowing Kahei to sit, and when she shook her head, Haseul tsked. “Come on, you have to eat. It’s good for you.”

The texture of calla lilies was still clinging to her tongue. There was no way to feel hungry with that heavy on .

“I’m not hungry, that’s all.” Kahei replied, at the same time the signal rung through the school, their conversation stopping for a moment. She smiled at Haseul, who was still fidgeting with her hair. “I’ll eat later, I promise.”

“I’ll remind you of that.” Haseul replied, before going back to her seat, as their classmates filtered in.

Kahei sighed, and tried to keep down the flowers that threatened to leave . It wasn’t the best hour.

Haseul didn’t love her back. That was fine. Kahei could live with Hanahaki disease for as long as possible.

She just didn’t want Haseul to suffer the burden of being aware of her unrequited love. It would hurt them both, in the end.

Kahei plan goes up in ashes when she can’t escape to a bathroom in time, in the middle of a conversation with her friends, and coughs up blood-soaked daffodils. Heejin cries out in alarm when the flowers land in Kahei’s skirt, blood escaping her fingers, and Haseul is the first to be in her feet, the first to grab Kahei and run with her through the school as Kahei is unable to stop coughing the daffodils. She leaves a trail in her wake, like a bride’s veil made up of torn flowers and red.

Haseul’s touch is warm against her cold skin, sweat setting in as she lets a torrent of flowers into a bucket when they arrive in the infirmary, the nurse not there (as usual).

Haseul pats her back and coos her, one hand holding her faded pink hair, and tears stream from her eyes, blood becoming slightly pink as it mixes with the liquid. Why it had to happen then and there? Why couldn’t it have waited, why couldn’t it have given her a few moments to run? No, instead her lungs exploded in flowers and made the torrent let loose, made her lose control.

And now, there she was, coughing pieces of her lung mixed with flowers. Life was not fair.

When the flowers ended, she felt light. Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was death approaching. It didn’t matter anymore.

“You have Hanahaki?” Haseul asked, handing her a soft handkerchief (white; it would become pink, as she cleaned her face), voice tinged with concern. “You… Why don’t you take the surgery?”

The words Haseul said could be knives, because they were effective at stabbing her heart.

“I don’t want to forget her.” Had Kahei’s voice always been so raspy, so frail? “If I have to die, then… Then at least, I’ll die with my memories intact. I’ll be able to see her smile before I go. That’s… Nice, I think.”

Haseul stared at her, in shock, and frowned. Tears stung Kahei’s eyes, blurring the edges of her vision. Was this the day she died? Pathetically?

“Do I know her?” Haseul asked, fists balling, anger seething in. She seemed ready to go at the throat of the person responsible for this, as if it was anyone but Kahei’s fault. “I’ll go off at however it is, I swear. How dare they?”

“You do know her, but don’t.” Kahei replied, mouth clean, smiling weakly. Her knees felt rather soft, like they were made of jello instead of flesh.

Maybe they were made of flower stems, and that was why they felt so weak.

“Why not?” Haseul said, pushing a strand of Kahei’s hair from her face. It was stuck together, wet with blood and with a petal stuck to the end of it. Haseul took the petal softly and discarded it, eyes staring into Kahei’s. “She’s making you suffer. I think she deserves to be screamed at a little. Is it Sooyoung?”

Kahei laughed, bitter, and couldn’t help but despair; this was why she had fallen in love with Haseul: she was always ready to defend her, even in situations where it wasn’t needed, always ready to help her when she had any sort of difficulties.

She really wished this love was corresponded.

“It’s not Sooyoung, don’t worry.” Haseul nodded, but didn’t seem convinced. “Don’t worry about me.”

Kahei tried to get up, but her knees gave out, and she went back to the ground. Haseul, biting her bottom lip, rising up.

“Of course I’ll worry about you.” Haseul huffed, helping Kahei up, and she gently guided Kahei to a bed, sitting down. Her uniform had a few blood splatters, and so did Haseul’s.

Guilt panged at her heart, like a bird gently pecking at the ground.

“You don’t have to. I’m fine, see?” Kahei said, smiling as brightly as she could, and Haseul seemed unconvinced. “It’s going to be alright. It’ll pass.”

“When you die, maybe.” Haseul sat by her side, and blushed when she thought (Kahei was good at reading expressions, and Haseul was easy to read) that maybe her words were rude, that well, Kahei was dying, and faced her, face red as the blood in the bottom of that bucket. “Sorry, Vivi, I didn’t mean...”

“It’s alright. It’s the truth.” Kahei replied, leaning her head into Haseul’s. I wish you loved me back, she thought, eyes closing. Her hands and feet were cold. Maybe this was death, coming for her.

It’d be nice, to die with Haseul at her side.

Something changed within her lungs, the air stifling for a moment. The flower garden within her seemed to thrive, expanding for a moment and then collapsing, dying within her, becoming the grass a deer could graze with no issues, like everyone’s lungs should be.

“... But I do love you?” Haseul said, timid, voice tinged with worry. She didn’t know Haseul could read minds. “Vivi... No, Kahei, Don’t say I’m…”

Kahei opened her eyes, disentangling herself from Haseul, staring at her. Haseul looked, horrified, at Kahei, and seemed to do some equations Kahei didn’t understand exactly.

“I’m the cause of your Hanahaki?” Haseul completed her phrase, and Kahei frowned.

“Did I speak out loud?” Kahei asked, and when Haseul nodded, she blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…”

“You should’ve confessed sooner, I… I told you to get the surgery, I swear I didn’t say it on purpose, I thought you liked Sooyoung!” Haseul started a flurry of explanations, and Kahei wondered how the hell was Hanahaki so selective. Did it like to create these sort of situations? Was it because she was unaware of Haseul’s feelings? Why did she have it, after all, and Haseul didn’t? Better yet, if their feelings were mutual, why did Kahei have it?

Her line of thought was interrupted by Haseul kissing her with urgency she had never expected to see in the girl, and she reciprocated, feeling stronger than she ever had before, the flowers in her lungs returning back to the soil, and Kahei felt like it was the first time in weeks she could take deep breaths.

Hanahaki had made her so weak, and she hadn’t even noticed.

When they separated, Haseul’s mouth was slightly tinted with blood.

“Sorry, I had read somewhere the best cure for Hanahaki was to kiss the person you loved, and I… Just acted on it, I’m not even sure it works…” Haseul was once more rambling, and Kahei giggled. That made Haseul stop rambling, looking at her. “Maybe I could… Kiss you again, just to be sure…?”

She felt no flowers in her lungs.

“I’d like that,” Kahei replied, and kissed Haseul, hands on the girl’s face. Kahei couldn’t feel the weight of flowers in her lungs, and she felt so light.