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Seokjin stared at the crimson petals floating in the water of the toilet bowl. Great, he thought, rubbing the back of his hand on his lips and spitting the remainder of the petals from his mouth. Fantastic, he thought, a little dully. This is just great. Amazing.
He hurriedly flushed the evidence away before anyone could come into the bathroom. He stood shakily and rubbed at his chest, feeling more than a little helpless. The Hanahaki Disease. He’d known his feelings for Yoongi were growing, but he hadn’t thought it would be so severe.
He rubbed at his chest. Roses were growing somewhere in his chest cavity. Clogging up his body with blood-red petals that would just keep growing and growing until they suffocated him, or until his unrequited love become requited. Or.
Or, he could get it removed by surgery. It wasn’t a difficult process. The disease was so common nowadays that surgery was quick and efficient with minimal recovery time. But that would also mean he’d lose his feelings. He could tell his manager. Get a surgery scheduled and take it out before it became too big. But then his feelings for Yoongi would disappear along with it.
He plucked a red petal from his shoulder and smiled at his reflection in the mirror. “You’ll be okay, Seokjin,” he told himself, out loud. “Let’s see where this goes.”
--
It was about a week later when Taehyung sidled up to him on the couch, pressing up against his side. “Hyung, hyung, did you hear?” When Seokjin glanced at him from his book, Taehyung dropped his voice into a dramatic whisper, even though no one else was in the dorm. “I heard that A Pink’s Eunji got surgery for the Hanahaki Disease. She apparently started throwing up sunflower petals, and they got her to the hospital right away.”
Seokjin raised an eyebrow, feeling the familiar throb in his chest. “Is she okay?”
Taehyung shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not a difficult surgery, right? She just lost her feelings for whoever it was, but I heard it wasn’t that bad, anyway. Just a few petals. It’s better to just lose the feelings than to die from it, right?”
Seokjin felt his chest tighten again and he realized he needed to break for the bathroom, or he was going to be throwing up petals all over Taehyung. “Right. I guess. Let me up, Taehyung. I gotta go use the bathroom.”
Taehyung whined and squeezed tighter, rubbing his face on Seokjin’s thigh and reminding him of a big dog. “But I’m so comfortable. You’re so nice and warm.”
Before Seokjin could push Taehyung away, he ended up coughing, his body convulsing hard enough for Taehyung to look up. Seokjin lost the timing on trying to hold it back and crimson petals spilled from his lips, falling onto Taehyung’s face.
Taehyung let him go, eyes wide as he sat up abruptly. “Hyung…!” He cried out, grabbing Seokjin’s shoulders and brushing the petals away. Taehyung twisted on the sofa, looking like he wanted to say something, but Seokjin shook his head. Taehyung looked on, wide-eyed and frozen as Seokjin coughed up more petals, silken slips of red spilling from his lips and fluttering to the floor around them. “Hyung, how – when – when did this start? Oh my god, look how many petals there are – I can’t even count – Hyung, we have to go tell the manager hyung.”
“No!” Seokjin said, jumping up and making the petals on his lap fall to the floor. He looked around the living room in desperation, trying to figure out where he could even throw all these petals out. “Taehyung, please. I’ve got it under control, I swear.”
He hadn’t. The amount of petals had increased alarmingly. Even now, crimson petals littered everywhere in the living room and Seokjin could see Taehyung’s eyes scanning the petal-covered floor. “Hyung, how could you have this under control?” Taehyung’s voice shook. “Look how many petals there are. You- How long have you let this go on?”
“Not long. A week? Maybe? Taehyung, please. I’m fine. I don’t want to- I don’t want my feeling to be taken away.”
Taehyung’s eyes were bulging out of his head. “A week?! A week and it’s already gone this far? Hyung, you’re going to lose those feelings if you die. We’re going to lose you if you die. How-“ Taehyung shook his head violently as if he was trying to clear it. “I have to tell manager hyung. Or Namjoon hyung. I’ll – That’s what I’ll do. I’ll tell Namjoon hyung. He’ll know what to do.”
Seokjin grabbed Taehyung’s arm. “No, Taehyung, please. I swear I’ve got it under control. Please? All you have to do is pretend you never saw anything.”
“That’s all?” Taehyung looked wrecked. He had his fists clenched tightly to his side and tears dripping from his eyes. “Hyung, how could you ask me to just – to just watch you die?”
Seokjin paused. Taehyung looked genuinely shaken, trembling visibly and crying, eyes glues to the petals on the floor. “Taehyung,” Seokjin’s voice was gentle when he spoke and he grabbed Taehyung’s wrist. “I’m not dying.”
Taehyung rubbed angrily at his eyes. “But you are. Look at how many petals there are. You’re going to suffocate from them. And it’ll all have been my fault for not speaking up about it.” He moved closer until he was standing right next to Seokjin, close enough to snake his arms around Seokjin’s waist and tug him closer into a tight hug. “And just look at these. They’re killing you but they’re so pretty.”
Seokjin knew the battle had been won. Taehyung never had been able to refuse him anything, after all. He reached up to pat Taehyung’s head. “They’re not killing me. Come on, help me clean up.”
Taehyung knelt beside Seokjin and swept up the petals with his hands. “What flowers are they?”
“Roses, I think,” Seokjin answered, picking up a petal. Taehyung stopped and rubbed a petal in between his fingers. "Taehyung, thank you.”
“If you die,” Taehyung said, voice uncharacteristically soft, “I’ll never forgive you.”
--
As it turned out, Taehyung didn’t need to worry, because he ended up throwing up petals all over the back seat of the van they’d been riding in. No amount of begging would change his manager's mind. Seokjin lay in the hospital bed, waiting for the painkillers to knock him out so they could go into surgery. “Sorry,” Taehyung told him, fiddling with his hands.
“Not your fault.” Seokjin sighed, rubbing his forehead. He coughed and another fistful of petals tumbled from his lips. “Maybe this is for the best, anyway. And I’m sorry. For putting such a weight on you.”
Taehyung looked uncomfortable as he toed the ground with his sneakers. “It was Yoongi-hyung, wasn’t it.” It was a statement, not a question, and Seokjin knew he didn’t have to answer for Taehyung to know. Taehyung laughed, a little watery, and squeezed Seokjin’s hand. “Everything is going to be all right, hyung.”
--
Seokjin blinked up at the hospital ceiling. His chest throbbed dully and he realized he had an oxygen mask fit over his lips. Yoongi was sitting on the visitor’s chair, and when he noticed Seokjin was awake, he pulled his seat closer and tugged an earphone out of his ear. “The surgery turned out to be a bit complicated because of how extensive the roses had grown.” Yoongi’s hand ruffled Seokjin’s hair. “You’re going to be hospitalized for a bit.”
“Sorry,” Seokjin whispered, his voice hoarse. He repeated, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” Yoongi smiled, rubbing Seokjin’s cheek. “Just rest up.” He leaned back, slid his earpiece back in, and opened a book Seokjin hadn’t seen when he woke up.
He felt nothing. Before, his chest would flutter whenever Yoongi rubbed his cheek, patted his hand, or if he was just nearby, but now he felt nothing. Tears filled his eyes and before he knew it, they were spilling, dripping onto the pillow beneath him when he closed his eyes to try to stem them.
“Don’t cry.” Yoongi whispered, quietly, and a cool thumb rubbed the tear tracks away. “Everything is going to be all right.”
--
He took two weeks in the hospital, and when he got out of it, all that remained of the Hanahaki was the scar on his chest. Taehyung was noticeably more comfortable around him, but the rest still treated him like he was fragile. “I’m okay, you know,” he told Yoongi, when Yoongi got him a cool cup of water as soon as practice was over. “The surgery’s a simple surgery.”
“You were in surgery for 8 hours.” Yoongi pointed out quietly, pouring him another cup of cool water. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“I’m not that fragile. And I took it easy for two weeks at the hospital.” Seokjin sighed. He slumped back and leaned on the mirror in the dance studio. His chest throbbed dully, and he winced as he pressed the heel of his palm into the scar. He noticed Yoongi’s worry and smiled brightly. “I’m fine, Yoongi. I promise.”
Yoongi didn’t look like he believed that at all. “Let’s call it a day today, guys.”
“Yoongi, I’m-“
“I’m tired.” Yoongi said, cutting Seokjin’s complaint off. Seokjin frowned, rubbing his chest out of habit. Yoongi never called an end to practice first, no matter how tired he was.
He sighed and beelined for the bathroom. On the way, Taehyung attached to his side, rambling about some kind of game he'd gotten into recently and telling Seokjin he should totally play. Seokjin leaned forward over the sink, splashing his face with water as Taehyung went on about a mile per minute. "Taehyung," Seokjin laughed, patting the younger's cheek affectionately, "I didn't hear a word of what you said while I was washing my face."
Taehyung laughed. "That's okay; I don't remember much of what I said, either." He latched himself back onto Seokjin's side and wrapped his arms tightly around Seokjin's waist. "I like talking to you, hyung. You listen to every single thing I say, even though most of the time it's stupid."
Seokjin chuckled and ruffled Taehyung's hair, clearing his throat to get rid of the stuffiness in his chest. He ended up coughing into his hand, and he froze when he felt soft petals land on his hand. Taehyung suddenly fell silent, looking at the crimson petals in Seokjin's hands. "What," Seokjin whispered. "I got surgery."
Taehyung jumped up in panic, unwrapping his arms, grabbing Seokjin's wrist and dragging him back to the practice room, yelling for Namjoon and Yoongi. Seokjin didn't have a choice on what was happening, even when Yoongi took up his hand and unwrapped his fingers from the petals Seokjin had squeezed. "I thought you said you could take care of it," Yoongi said, his voice shaking as Namjoon dialed their manager. "How could you have possibly taken care of feelings so deep that they came back even after you got surgery?"
Seokjin didn't know. He just felt Yoongi's hand shaking, and he bowed his head.
--
The recovery from the second surgery went simply, but the flowers came back again. And again. And again. It came to a point where Seokjin couldn’t even properly recover from his surgery before they had to operate on him again. He’d been pretty much stuck inside the hospital, and Taehyung thought he looked weaker and weaker every day.
“It’s not good for his body,” the doctors told their manager. “It’s a simple process, but it still involves cutting the chest cavity open. His body is struggling to recover from it each time. We need to start taking extra cautions. The operations are too much of a stress on his body.”
Taehyung stayed by Seokjin’s side for as long as he could, wandering in before visiting hours and staying until the nurses kicked him out. Seokjin listened carefully to everything he babbled about, mostly just to fill up the silence. He didn’t respond as actively as he used to, but he responded with smiles and nods.
It was a little different one day. Yoongi had brought Seokjin a book, and Seokjin was reading it. Taehyung had his head buried in his arms, looking up at Seokjin and catching petals as they fell when Seokjin coughed. He asked quietly, “If someone was in love with you, what would they cough up?”
Seokjin scrunched his nose. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”
Taehyung rose. “I thought you didn’t want to get it removed.”
“I don’t. But… Still. It’s a terrible thing, isn’t it? I wouldn’t wish this on anyone at all.” Seokjin carefully marked his page and put it down, coughing again. He was doing that more and more often, now, and Taehyung knew it would normally be time for another procedure. Except the doctors were trying to see how long they could prolong the surgery, because each time Seokjin got weaker and each time he took longer to wake up from it.
Taehyung buried his face in his arms again. “But if they did.”
Seokjin was quiet for a moment. He then answered softly, “Peonies.”
“Peonies,” Taehyung repeated, looking back up. “I didn’t know you liked peonies.”
Seokjin smiled at him. “Well, now you know.”
Yoongi scowled and smacked Taehyung over the back of his head. “Weird conversation topic.” Taehyung only shrugged and grumbled, going back to bury his head in his arms. He hated this. All of them had figured out that Seokjin’s feelings were for Yoongi. Taehyung had even heard Namjoon confront Yoongi about it, but it wasn’t like they could blame Yoongi for it, either way. The disease knew better than people if the feelings were sincere. They couldn’t force Yoongi to start liking Seokjin. Taehyung wasn’t supposed to blame Yoongi.
But he did, anyway.
If it were him, he’d have fallen head over heels over Seokjin.
--
Taehyung was talking as usual, blabbering away to Seokjin, and Seokjin had been smiling and talking back, more energetic than he usually was. But then Seokjin had thrown up petals. So much that it covered his entire lap, dropped to the floor, and then he was heaving more. “Hyung!” Taehyung cried, leaping up from the visitor’s chair to grab Seokjin.
Yoongi and Jimin leapt up from where they were, and Jimin ran out immediately to grab a doctor or a nurse while Yoongi grabbed Seokjin. Seokjin heaved again, another cascade of crimson red petals spilling past the hand that he’d covered his mouth with. “Taehyung,” Seokjin whimpered, gripping at his arm. “It hurts.”
Taehyung froze. It was the first time Seokjin had admitted to the Hanahaki hurting. He couldn’t help himself from imagining the thorns of the rose cutting deep into Seokjin’s insides, and he pressed his hands to Seokjin’s chest, wishing he could somehow tear out the infection and have it never happen again.
Yoongi shoved him away and grabbed Seokjin’s cheeks, pressing his lips to Seokjin’s against the torrent of petals spilling past his lips. Taehyung froze and blinked up at them from where he'd been pushed onto the floor. The doctors that had burst in were also quiet, and when Yoongi pulled away, Seokjin was unconscious, a tear scrolling past closed eyes as the last of the petals fell from his lips.
“Oh my god,” Jimin whispered. “He’s – is he- did he-“
“Don’t be stupid,” Yoongi hissed, but he let the doctors rush forward. He was pale and his hands were gripping Seokjin's shoulders. “He’s still warm. He’s alive.” The doctors confirmed that he was alive before rushing off into surgery, leaving the three of them standing amidst a flurry of crimson red petals.
Taehyung collapsed, his hands fisting the blanket of rose petals. “If he dies, I’ll never forgive you.” He told Yoongi, crumbling the flowers in his fists. “I don’t care if it’s not your fault, I’ll never forgive you.”
Yoongi answered quietly, “I’ll never forgive myself, either.”
--
Seokjin lived through the surgery, but it’d taken a toll. He looked sicker than ever, eyes sunken and skin clammy and an unhealthy green. He took four days to wake up, and even when he did, he did it slowly, taking the oxygen mask over his lips first and struggling to sit up before Taehyung helped him do it. “Sorry,” Seokjin whispered, patting the bed next to him. Taehyung slid into it and Seokjin leaned his head on his shoulder. “Where are the others?”
“You're in the ICU. One visitor only. I refused to get out.” Taehyung explained. “You’d have preferred Yoongi-hyung, huh.”
Seokjin smiled at him. “No, I prefer you. I swear.” He added, when Taehyung looked disbelieving. “It’s gone, remember?”
Taehyung tried not to think about the mass of scars on Seokjin’s chest. Tried not to think it’ll be back; it’ll hurt you again. Instead, he just cracked a smile. “You look okay, at least. You should be out of ICU today. They put you in here right after the surgery.”
Seokjin gave him a long stare and then smiled sadly. “Taetae,” he whispered, cupping Taehyung’s cheek. “You don’t have to look like you’re going to cry. It doesn’t suit you. Always be happy. I’m going to be okay.”
--
As Taehyung had expected, the disease relapsed, and he wanted to cry at the cruelty. How could someone be punished for being in love with someone? The stress was also showing on Yoongi, who stayed by Seokjin’s side for as long as he could, looking, if possible, even sicker than Seokjin. Jungkook once told Taehyung he’d found Yoongi kneeling on the ground next to Seokjin, crying for the first time Jungkook had seen and clutching at Seokjin’s hands.
“Yoongi,” Seokjin asked quietly, and Taehyung wasn’t sure if Seokjin knew he was in the room or not. He’d been leaning against the corner, hidden away from sight. He couldn’t remember if Seokjin had fallen asleep before he sat down there or afterwards. “Why did you kiss me, that day?”
Yoongi didn’t seem to have a response. It was the first time Taehyung had seen Yoongi at a loss for words. Finally, he hung his head and sighed. “I don’t know. You looked like you were dying, and I didn’t know how else to stop it.”
“But you don’t love me.”
Yoongi was silent again. And then, “I don’t know.” Taehyung flinched, eyes wide as he sank lower into his corner. That hadn’t been the answer he’d been expecting. Yoongi closed the book he’d been scribbling into and Taehyung saw the chair scrape across the floor as Yoongi dragged it. “If I kiss you again and the flowers disappear, what happens then?”
“I don’t know.”
--
It didn’t surprise Taehyung that after Yoongi kissed Seokjin that day, the flowers did disappear. Namjoon commented to him later that it looked like Yoongi had forced himself to love Seokjin, out of sheer force of will, but Taehyung wasn’t too sure about that. Yoongi had always treated Seokjin a little differently. A little more tender, a little more gentle. Maybe Yoongi had been in love with Seokjin from the beginning, and he just hadn’t known it himself until Seokjin’s life really, truly was in danger in front of him.
Taehyung stood in front of the bathroom mirror, smiling at his reflection. He had his fist closed lightly, but tightly enough so he wouldn’t drop the thing in his hand. “Well,” he whispered to himself, quiet enough so no one would hear. “I can keep a secret to myself. No one has to know. Seokjin’s happy.”
He opened his palm. A broad, light pink petal sat a little crumbled in his palm, exactly where he’d coughed it out.
So that’s what peony petals looked like.