Chanyeol wouldn’t let up his incessant knocking on your bedroom door.

“(Y/N)! I know you’re in here! We need to talk about this!” he yelled.

You sat on the other side of the door, head on your knees as you stared blankly at the pamphlets. They were for a surgery that your stepbrother desperately wanted you to have.

They were pamphlets for the removal of the Hanahaki flowers that had been growing within your lungs.

It was an illness that, unfortunately, you had.

Fortunately for you, medical science had come a long way to deal with Hanahaki. In the late 90s, they came up with a technique to remove the flowers. But this came at a price.

The inflicted would have the memories of their loved one removed entirely.

Sitting there in the dark, with a relentless Chanyeol making noise behind you, you wondered what path you wanted to take.

Could you live the rest of your life forgetting who Oh Sehun was? Or would you rather live the rest of your days loving him?

You coughed into your hand. When you pulled it away, you saw the bloody forget-me-nots take space in your hand.

Either way, you didn’t have a lot of time left.

You met Oh Sehun the summer after your second year in high school. He was the new kid in your neighborhood and your stepbrother, Chanyeol, had taken a liking to him right away. They hung out frequently, taking trips to the creek and to the arcade, not to mention he was often at your house.

When the school year had started back up again, he stuck by your side, mainly because you were both in the same year and you were the only one in his classes that he knew.

You expected things to change after he made the football team with Chanyeol. His popularity skyrocketed overnight. You expected him to leave you in the dust. But somehow, that made the friendship between the two of you grow stronger. He still hung out with you during lunches, studied with you at the library, and played video games with you at your house. More than once, Chanyeol had accused you of stealing his friend away from him, but he always said it with a smile on his face.

You and Sehun grew closer and closer, and soon no one at school associated one without the other. There was no (Y/N) without Sehun, there was no Sehun without (Y/N).

Sehun was kind, compassionate, loyal. Not to mention incredibly talented and attractive. It was like an inevitability, that you would fall for him wholly and completely.

And you hoped, for the longest time, that he would reach that point of inevitability with you.

But he, apparently, was an oblivious idiot just as you were a hopeless romantic. So you resigned yourself to being Sehun’s friend. Tried to be satisfied with it.

You were going to be Oh Sehun’s best friend and you were going to rock it.

Years passed by like that, through high school, through college, and through into your respective careers. He, a successful businessman, and you, a struggling writer.

He met Mina at the launch party of your first novel. They hit it off right away and soon started dating.

You remembered the way that your heart sank when he dragged you to his house to help him get ready for his first date. But instead of letting your sadness and heartbreak show on your face, you decided to plaster a smile on your face. Him flailing around his closet for the perfect outfit was endearing and hilarious.

He pouted and threw his clothes at you, but by the end of it he was laughing with you.

You would give anything to make sure he laughed like that all the time, that he smiled and was happy all the time.

You knew that at this point, Mina made him happy.

However, there was a dark and selfish part of your heart that hoped it wouldn’t last.

One year passed. Two years. Then you found yourself clapping and celebrating at Sehun and Mina’s engagement party.

There were many, many times before then where you had wanted to tell him how you felt. Times where you had wanted to grab his broad shoulders and scream that you were in love with him, to not date Mina because you loved him, that you two could be so happy together.

But you didn’t, you chose to keep your mouth shut, chose his happiness over yours. Every time.

Maybe it would have been easier if Mina wasn’t such a good person. She was a little like Sehun, you realized, caring, humble, and loyal. You could tell just by looking at her that she loved Sehun very much.

It was hard, but so easy at the same time to choose his happiness over yours.

That still did not stop the sinking feeling in your stomach to see the diamond ring on Mina’s finger. Didn’t stop the heartache that ensued whenever he introduced Mina as his fiancee.

You were overcome with a coughing fit, and excused yourself from the conversation to go to the bathroom. You saw Sehun give you a questioning look, you just gave him a weak thumbs up in return.

As soon as you locked the door to the bathroom you started to cough into the sink. When you pulled away, you saw the small blue flower petals cling to the sides of the sink.

You felt the panic start at the pit of your stomach.

You always knew that this was a possibility. Hanahaki was present on your mother’s side, but no one had shown the symptoms in two generations.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror and there were stray petals sticking to your lips. You picked them off and started to cry. You pressed the heels of your palms to your eyes, but your tears betrayed your wishes.

This was just your ing luck.

You quickly wiped away your tears and used toilet paper to clean up the sink when you heard a knock on the door.

You opened it up to see Sehun with a concerned look on his face.

“You’ve been in here a while,” he said, brows furrowed. “Everything okay?”

You tried to wave him off. “It’s no big deal, I’m still a little sick, is all.”

He gave you an unimpressed look, “I told you to not come if you still weren’t feeling well, (Y/N). You worried me and Mina.”

You knew that the phrase “me and Mina” would be something that you would continue to hear.

Then he smiled, “But still, I’m glad you came here for me. You’re a good friend and I appreciate it.”

You shook your head. “I wouldn’t miss it, Sehun.”

He reached out and took your hand in his. “If you’re feeling better, come join the party with us again.”

You wordlessly followed him, and whenever you coughed and more petals appeared, you brushed them away before anyone could see them.

It was many months later, and it hadn’t gotten any better.

At least that was what your doctor said when he looked at the X-rays of your lungs.

“Soon the cough suppressants are going to stop working,” Dr. Kim said. “I think we need to be realistic and consider another option for you.”

You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I’m talking about the surgery, (Y/N).”

Medical science had come a long way since the discovery of Hanahaki. In the distant past, it was more acceptable for the victim to die because of unrequited love. From classes, you had learned that there used to be whole rituals where the inflicted would confess their feelings to their loved one. If the person returned the feelings, the flowers would go away. If not, the inflicted would die instantly.

You’ve read stories where people slowly let the flowers consume them until they died of suffocation, the flowers sticking out of their mouths like some messed up vase.

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of that happening to you.

“I know what you’re talking about,” you snapped. “How long do I have?”

Your doctor sighed. “At the rate this is going, a month. Maybe two months if the suppressants still work.”

You looked away from Dr. Kim. You felt the tears build up behind your eyes and threaten to spill over.

You were dying. You were going to die. There was a way to stop it, but it came at the price of losing memories of Sehun. The man that not only you had loved for years, but was also your best friend and confidant.

And you wanted, so badly, to choose him again. To choose to live your remaining days loving Sehun with all you had.

But where did this love get you? Crying in your doctor’s office as you heard your death sentence.

“Can I--” you took a deep breath between sobs “--Can I think about it?”

Dr. Kim nodded, “I’ll send some information home with you. Let me know within a few days.”

As Chanyeol’s knocks died down, you realized in hindsight that you shouldn’t have left the pamphlets in his line of sight. He had always been incredibly snoopy.

You heard him sigh, “I’m sorry for getting mad, (Y/N). I’m just upset that you were going through all of this pain and you didn’t bother telling me about it!”You heard a sigh. “But If you don’t want to tell me right now, that’s fine. But I want you to talk to me about it. I want to help you.” Silence passed by for a few moments. “I’m going to go out for a bit, okay? Then when I get back we need to talk about this.” You heard Chanyeol shuffle to get his things and close the door.

You cautiously opened the door, seeing whether or not Chanyeol had actually left. Silence permeated your apartment as you slowly made your way over to the kitchen counter where your phone was.

You had five missed calls from Sehun.

You left the phone on the counter and settled onto your couch instead, curling up into a ball. You were alone now, but the decision had to be made.

Lose your love, or your life?

Live your last remaining days with Sehun? Or live a life where he was a stranger?

Both options scared you, but you had to be honest with yourself when you knew that dying scared you more.

Deep down, you knew what the answer was. You wanted so badly to live. You had to get the surgery.

Tears fell from your eyes as you coughed, a full-on retch as you coughed whole flowers into your hands along with blood. You wondered, morbidly, if it was more painful for those who coughed up bigger flowers like sunflowers. Roses had thorns, did they tug at the inside of one’s throat?

The flowers that you had were forget-me-nots. You rolled your eyes at the irony.

Sehun would be fine, you reasoned in your head. He was going to get married soon. He still had his other friends. It would hurt for a while, but he would still be surrounded by everyone else that he loved.

Someone started knocking on the door.

You knew it wasn’t Chanyeol, since he had your spare key. You couldn’t think of anyone else that would come see you at this time of night.

You opened the door to find Sehun standing in your doorway. He did not say anything, just pushed his way through the door and into your apartment.

You coughed into your hand, “Sehun, what’s wrong?”

He turned around to face you. Hurt, sadness, and anger reflected in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he demanded.

You heart accelerated. “About what?”

His eyes widened. “That you were dying, (Y/N)?”

You wanted to groan. You knew Chanyeol wouldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“I--” you coughed again, blood and flowers slipping out of your mouth.

Sehun stared at you in horror for a beat until pure unadulterated rage consumed his features.

“Who is it?” he hissed, “Who is doing this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you said bitterly, “I decided that I’m getting the surgery.”

Sehun grabbed your shoulders, “It does matter.” He was pleading now, wide eyes giving away how desperate he was. “Tell me who it is.”

“Why?” you exclaimed, pushing his hands away.

“Because you’re one of the most important people in my life, (Y/N),” he admitted quietly. He eyes were shiny with tears, “You’re so ing important and the fact that someone is doing this to you is driving me crazy.”

Tears started to fall from your eyes. You were so sick of crying over this. “Don’t, Sehun.”

“Please tell me who it is,” he pushed.

You clenched your fists. This situation was spiraling out of control very fast. But what was the point of lying, when you knew this would be last chance you had to be with him? “Sehun,” you said, resigned.

“(Y/N).”

“No,” you said with strength in your voice for the first time. “His name is Oh Sehun.”

You looked up at him then, eyes wide and his mouth hung open in a surprised ‘O’ shape.

His silence gave you the momentum to speak, “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I didn’t say anything because we were friends. And then you met Mina the night I was finally going to tell you--” you took a shuddering breath “--and now you’re going to marry her and I’m dying Sehun.”

He opened his mouth to speak and you interrupted him.

“Please don’t say anything. I already know what your answer is. If you tell me that you don’t love me back I will die where I stand.” You tugged your hair in frustration, “I will die if you tell me you don’t love me. Do you know how ridiculous that is?”

He shook his head, “Of course I--”

“No. I don’t mean the whole ‘You’ll always have a place in my heart’ kind of love, okay?” You avoided his eyes. “Can you possibly say that you love me back the same way?”

His silence said a lot more than you wanted to hear.

“That’s what I thought,” you whispered, pressing your lips together in a thin line. “You should probably leave.”

“Wait, (Y/N). Can’t we talk about this?”

“What is there to talk about? You’re going to marry someone else and being in love with you is quite literally killing me.”

Tears spilled from Sehun’s face. He never cried in front of others and there was that dark part inside of you that drew some satisfaction that his tears were for you. “You’re going to forget me. You’re going to leave my life forever.”

You witnessed him slide to his knees, his hands to his face as he muffled the sounds of his crying. You ached with him.

You kneeled down to his level and gently pried his hands away from his face. You replaced his hands with your own, cradling his cheeks and forcing him to look at you. He needed to understand. “I’m choosing to do this, Sehun,” you said, voice breaking. “I love you, but I don’t want to die. I’m not a hopeless romantic character from one of my novels, who would rather die than be without the person they love. I’ve chosen to stay by your side for years and it’s led me here. If you’re not going to choose me, then I’m going to choose me.”

Suddenly, you were enveloped by warmth as Sehun drew you into a hug. His hold on you was almost too tight, but you refrained from complaining.

After all, this may well be the last time you would be held in his arms.

“I’m not mad or anything,” explained Sehun, “I just really hate that it’s like this. I hate the fact that I hurt you and I’m still hurting you.” He sniffed, “I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m so ing sorry.”

“You can’t help feelings,” you said.

“Still .”

“Agreed.”

“You’re always going to be my best friend,” he whispered, squeezing you tighter, “even if you don’t know who I am.”

“Who knows? Maybe we can be friends again someday,” you replied. Perhaps it was cruel of you to leave this little nugget of hope for him to latch to.

Sehun snorted. “I don’t think your brother is going to let me anywhere near you after this.”

You shrugged. “He will come around.”

You were laying on the hospital bed in your gown. Chanyeol was sitting in the chair next to you.

“I’m glad you made this decision for yourself, (Y/N),” he whispered, your hair. “I’m so glad.”

“I’m glad I did, too, Chanyeol,” you said, but your eyes kept going towards the door. No matter how hard you tried, you felt like a part of you was waiting for him. Waiting for him to show up at your door and declare his undying love for you. But you had to force yourself to be realistic.

“Are you sure that it’s okay that I do this?” you asked. “He’s your friend too, you know. I don’t want to be the rift between you.”

Chanyeol resolutely shook his head. “I’ll deal with it. Your life is more important. You’re my precious sister. I’m your big brother. I should protect you.”

You laughed, coughing a little bit as you did, “You can’t protect me from feelings.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes were glassy. “Doesn’t stop me from wanting to try.”

A knock at the door startled the two of you. You looked up to see people in masks and white coats.

It was time.

You laid your head back on your pillow, “I should have known better than to think he would come.”

Chanyeol your hair. “By the time you wake up, you won’t remember.”

You looked at him dead in the eyes. “That isn’t very comforting at all, big brother.”

He laughed weakly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You nodded and closed your eyes. You let the wave of disappointment and heartbreak wash over you one last time.

The hours after your surgery were a blur. You were asleep for most of it.

Chanyeol was yelling at someone to get out of the room.

A gentle pressure on your forehead.

A voice laced with sadness.

An apology.

What an odd dream.

“Where'd the flowers come from?” you asked Chanyeol when you woke up completely.

He pulled a small frown. “I told my friend that you were in the hospital. He brought those by while you were sleeping.”

“That was awfully nice of him,” you said, opening the card.

“Yes. It is,” Chanyeol replied through gritted teeth.

You don’t pay attention to the tone of his voice as you open the card. It’s a simple card. Light pink with the words “Get Well” etched on it.

You open it.

Someone out there loves you.

The simple message touches your heart suddenly. You can’t stop yourself from tracing the handwriting lightly with one of your fingers.

“Tell your friend that I love it,” you said with a soft smile.

You were sitting in your favorite coffee shop, just a week later.

You were discharged the next day after your surgery, as you had made a full recovery. You kept asking Chanyeol about what exactly you were sick from in the first place, but he always brushed it off. He had spent every day with you, doting on you even when you insisted you were fine.

Until today.

Today, he was dressed in a fancy suit messing with his hair.

He was going to his friend’s wedding today. The one that gave you the flowers. You forced a thank you card in his hands when he leaves. You could see the debate in his eyes before he relents.

You ask him why you can’t come. He told you it was because you weren’t invited.

You stared at the door in confusion. Because there was certainly a fancy enough dress in your closet that was appropriate for a wedding.

A buzz from your phone interrupted your thoughts. It was a text from Chanyeol.

Brace yourself.

Is all it said.

A figure took the seat across from you. It was a man in a fancy dress suit. His face was red and panting, like he had run all the way there.

He stared at you for a few moments. You gave him an awkward wave.

“Do I know you?” you asked.

His face fell a little at the question, but he covered it by reaching into his suit jacket and took out an envelope. It was your thank you card.

“I gave you the flowers,” he explained, “while you were in the hospital.”

“Oh!” You exclaimed, “Thank you for those. Forget-me-nots are my favorites.”

“I know,” he said. Then his eyes widened, not wanting to give anything away. “Chanyeol told me.”

You nodded and looked at his suit. “You’re getting married right? Wanted to make a pit stop before the reception?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not exactly. I kind of… ran out of my wedding.”

“What?” you gasped. “You ran out on your own wedding and the first thing you do is go to a coffee shop?”

“No,” the man says with a small smile, “the first thing I did was go to you. You just happened to be in a coffee shop.”

“You ran out of your wedding for me?” You raised your hands in frustration. “This is ridiculous. I’m taking you back and you’re going to beg for your bride’s forgiveness and--”

“No,” he protested, stopping you in your tracks. “I chose this. I chose to be here. Just let me be here, please?”

“Why?” you asked, genuinely flabbergasted. “I’m just a stranger!”

There was something that flashed in his eyes then. You wondered why he looked like he was being haunted.

His long fingers bent and crinkled the edges of your thank you card. “The last time I didn’t choose to be with someone, I ended up losing the person very important to me. It messed me up for a bit. But then your brother gave me this card and I thought of it as a second chance.”

“At what?” you asked. For some reason you were a little breathless at his admission.

He shrugged. “Something. Anything. If you just let me stay.”

Really, once he explained himself like that, how could you refuse?

You sighed, “If you’re gonna miss out on your wedding for me, you should at least know my name. It’s (Y/N).”

“My name is Sehun,” he said, with a wide smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons.

“Well, Sehun,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee. You wondered, vaguely, why his name gave you butterflies. “I think this is the start of what is going to be a very interesting relationship.”

“You know what?” Sehun asked, leaning toward you, “I think so too.”