stressed too much about Hanahaki part 2, that I started writing another oneshot to destress. Also thank you all for reading the first part, I genuinely didn't know it would get these many notes and didn't plan too much ahead
NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader | Vigilante!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Credits: 1 2 3 divider
Summary: The feelings you tried to bury down for a certain green eyed man seem to arise, after waking up with petals in your throat.
Authorโs Note: My first fic that I've posted after years so give me grace lol. Also this was supposed to be a oneshot/practise writing and now I have to split it into two parts.
Warnings: Mention of vomiting and blood. Second half was written half asleep without my glasses I apologize.
Prologue
๐๐๐ซ๐ญ ๐จ๐ง๐
It's funny, you think as you stare at the page in front of you.
These emotions, the feelings that you tried to shove down, the same ones that you've kept a secret to ensure stability in the team and keep your heart from pain, coming to choke you back.
It was never supposed to go this deep.
ย You've had crushes before; silly little puppy loves throughout life. Nothing your mind spent too much time dwelling on. Hell, you're pretty sure having a crush on Dick was a part of anyone's initiation process to the whole vigilante thing.
But this?
This means something.
For the roots to take hold, the love you feel must already be so buried into your soul, so intwined with your very being that it manifests physically.
โฆ
Youโve screwed up really bad.
You look back at the petals in your hand, seemingly crushed by your fingers as you were lost in thought. Bright yellow with a few strands of pollen, the latter surely making your throat still itch. Theyโre clean now, along with the rest of your floor. But you think you can still smell that awful mix of sweet and acid.
Yellow feels like a joke. It was the last colour you would associate with him.
Red, obviously. Or green, for his eyes. But staring at the yellow peeking through your fist, you take second to question if it even is him.
You snort out loud.
Of course it's him.
Who else can raise your heart by just entering the room, unknowingly taking all your attention. Who else burrowed so deep into your heart that you don't know how you ever lived without him.
Who else would make you want to be a better person, a person who makes you want live through another day just so you can see him one more time.
Pathetic, a voice sounding too much like Damian, whispers within you. Making yourself vulnerable, making a person your weakness.
You sigh.
You can wallow in your unrequited love any other day. this was not new. What you should be doing is making a plan. How are you going to deal with this.
As far as you know, there are two ways to cure Hanahaki. The obvious confession of feelings, where your get your fairytale romance of requited love and the flowers disappear in an instant as the movies claim. Or the much more reasonable surgery. a simple operation to remove the roots of the plants, along with whatever feelings a person may have.
The risks are high, you know that. The extensive list of side effects listed in the medical book is not an exaggeration. For people who dedicated their lives to their loved ones, few lose their purpose in life.
Cases show theyโve lost interest in all things and stopped being themselves. And other lose their ability to love permanently. Any type of love. But these are not enough stop you.
You sigh. Itโs not like you have any other choice. Even confessing to Jason will put you in the same path and you like to be efficient. Quick. Deal with the problem and jump to the next one.
ย It has nothing to do with clawing feeling in your stomach when you even think about mentioning your feelings to anyone.
*โ โพโ*
You arenโt afraid to admit you are a scared of Leslie Thompkins โ one of the few that could defy Batman and lie to his face. Making her the perfect person to go to.
โRight so you know your options well thenโ she stares at you, one eyebrow raised.
You try not to shrink under her gaze, keeping a steady front.
โA surgery seems the bestโ.
You see an imperceptibleย change in her face though you canโt seem to decipher her emotions. She waits a moment, collecting her words, before nodding.
โRight, if youโre so sure then come down to the clinic a week from now.โ
What
Her eyebrow seems to raise higher of possible.
Right. You said that out loud.
โAre you sure there isnโt way to do it much soonerโ you plead. You need this done quick, before anybody can find out. Sooner the better
โIโd rather get it done quickly," sounding unashamedly desperate.
โWith the recent hijinks in Gotham, some of the medical supplies have been depleting more fasterโ She shuffles around the white office you both are in, opening a few drawers here and there, โand with yourโฆ condition still in the its early stages itโs not too much of a risk to delay the surgery for a few daysโ
Tell that to your sore throat and the ruined carpet of your living room.
You donโt voice your displeasure, but it must be evident on your face.
She finally comes up to you with a long strip of tablets, and holds it out to you, still talking.
โTake these for whenever you feel an itching in your throat, they would numb the feeling for a while.โ
You nod. But halfway to the door, she stops you.
She says your name, โAnd if you can, I would highly advise you confess. It may do you more good than you thinkโ. Thereโs a knowing look in her eye.
Right, Alfred and she are close friends, and you donโt bet that Alfred doesnโt have an inkling of your feelings. Didnโt take that man for a gossip but also maybe your feelings are embarrassingly obvious that Doctor Thompkins who you have limited conversations with can also figure them out.
You thank her quietly and leave.
By the time you exit out the back entrance, you feel like you can finally breathe. You scan youโre the rooftops overhead as you make your quick way home. Sure, this goes past the usual paranoia, but youโre keeping your caution at the forefront.
Because you already know what happens if anyone finds out.
You might not be a part of their family, but Bruce always saw you as part of his team. Especially after taking you under his wing for your โnightlyโ activities.
Tim and Stephanie, your best friends, Dick someone you always looked up to and even Damian, despite the evidence to the contrary, tolerates you to an extent.
And Jasonโ
You donโt let yourself finish that thought.
ย Itโs basically a love language for them, to try and solve otherโs problems whether how intrusive or invasive it may be.
You snicker, knowing their intentions and being a part of that world, you know thatโs how they show they care. Hell, you and Stephanie basically camped in Timโs apartment after a real nasty hit he took during patrol. Had to tie him down to the bed to get him to relax .
Metaphorically. Not really.
Speaking of, Tim might be the first to see any discrepancy in your schedule, just last week asking Dick why he spent 15 minutes more than he usually does at the gym.
It will spread from there to Stephanie and Cass, and then by the end of the day, youโll have them banging at your door. And your poker face isnโt really up to the task to defy stand against them all. Or maybe Jason already knows how you feel and will come to confront you about it
The familiar feeling of petals builds up in your body. You rub your throat, trying to ease the pain. It seems like the mere mention of him in your thoughts can stir up the flowers.
So, for the next one week to go smoothly, you might need to avoid making any drastic changes, keep the phone calls and the visits to the clinic to a minimum, no matter how much you want a rip out the roots in your lungs.
โฆYou should have used a burner phone to make your appointment.
Fuck.
*โ โพโ*
You grapple to the nearest building, lowering yourself quietly to the dark alley way. Rats evade your path as you faintly make your way to the dumpsters in the back. And you promptly empty your heart, or in this case lungs out.
The past two days were a breeze, compared to what you thought. Patrols were easy enough, you havenโt met anyone that noticed anything. You postphoned going out with your civilian friends but needed no excuse, for they were so understanding that you nearly wanted to cry for their help anyways, no matter how selfish it was (they didnโt even know who Jason was, no use dragging them into this).
You only crossed paths with Cass who asked about your red eyes, and youโve made an short excuse of sand getting in, the answer being fortunately interrupted with a mugging, below you.
Bu things seem to get worse for you. The mere thought of Jason in now making you cough, the petals growing in size.
Now, trying to keep the volume at bay, you try to remove the acrid taste from your mouth. It was all blood and petals now. Staining the gravel below.
Ping
A text. And as if by the sheer force of you thinking about him, the text is by him.
-โComingโ
All the precautions in the world, and thus stupid text is what might expose you.
You should refuse. You ARE going to refuse. It would be crazy not to when just a text makes it hard to breathe.
Just as try to type, to say sorry and refuse, another text comes along.
-โbad dayโ
Thereโs the heavy hitter.
Because this is one thing you canโt refuse. A place for him to unburden himself and somehow being with you seems to do that. And unadmittingly large part of you, wants to see him. To be in his presence as if all your worries would disappear at the sight of him.
Ironic.
But you can do this. Just one night and who knows when you will see him again.
Everything will be fine.
*โ โพโ*
Jason was having a bad day.
Scratch that, a bad week.
A trail regarding high profile drug dealers led to a dead end, Bruce reprimanded him again in front of the whole team, and to top it all off, a stupid store robbery in the middle his patrol, that usually takes 10 minutes to diffuse, escalated when more guns got to the scene.
And now heโs irritated, annoyed and all the other words in a dictionary. Add a slightly bruised ego to that, everything is trying to get under his skin and all throughout the ordeal, he has been vibrating as if awaiting something.
He knows what it is.
He lands with a soft thump on the small landing, barely qualifying as a balcony. A single lone plant, on the brink of death, occupies the space. Lifting his phone to his face, he can once again see his message to be delivered and read. Just a single reaction of thumbs up.
Typical.
Switching it off, he is now enshrouded in the usual darkness of the night, barely seeing anything beyond the thick curtains covering the glass door. But he can hear you.
Hear you probably standing near the sink, a cacophony of dishes clattering as you stand just a few metres from him. And already a warmth blooms in his chest. He can barely tamp down the small smile and a blush โheโs lucky to be hidden beneath the helmetโ tapping on the glass door, not too quick or loud as to betray his eagerness.
Immediately the sound of water stops, and he can your footsteps nearing.
And there you are in all your glory.
He barely raises an arm to wave โhiโ when you open the glass door
"Hey,โ you say closing the door behind him after he slips in. Removing his helmet, he quietly follows you, as you pad back to the sink.
"3-day old stir fry in the fridge" you answer his unasked question before turning back to your dishes.
Itโs quiet in the kitchen, just the sounds of you washing and the microwave buzz.
Itโs hard to know when this started. Maybe when you first arrived at his warehouse*, the closest one you knew, though your relationship was still on the rocks. When he finally noticed your injuries after berating you for intruding before quietly slinking off, probably making you think he left you before coming back with a first aid kit. (Then berating you for not going to the Cave anyways)
*to be fair, you thought it was a abandoned and needed a breather to lick your wounds
Or maybe it was just weeks later, seeing him trying to stitch himself in an alleyway near your neighbourhood. The least you could do is provide a clean space for him to heal.
The awkward silence broken by the offer of food, which was the olive branch you both needed. Starting the tradition of crashing into each otherโs places, for aid and emergency carb loading in the middle of patrol, quickly transitioning into texting and more casual late-night visits, under the guise of venting.
To his knowledge, the others just think you are at most acquaintances, something both of you havenโt refrained from correcting. You may not have felt it, but he was relieved. These nights essentially becoming a haven, away from everything and everyone.
His thoughts are interrupted by the beeping of the microwave, and after eating for a minute, all while standing at the counter, he finally looks at you.
Tense shoulders, tired eyes and subtle glances at him, you were trying to be inconspicuous.
โCome on then, if you already ate without me, the least you could do is keep me company,โ he tries to quip. He doesnโt know whatโs worrying you but surely youโll open up after some time.
"Oh, sorry next time Iโll just wait till 3 am to eat my dinner," you can't help but snark and he finally grins back. You follow him though, to the couch and he sees your shoulders dropping as you lean back.
โYou owe me,โ you mutter before reaching for the remote. With the background noise of some random sitcom secured, you turn towards him. โNow spill, whatโs got you looking like youโre going to break my walls.โ
He chuckled through a mouthful of food.
โI would argue you had it worse, you look like you havenโt slept. Or eaten,โ he raises his eyebrows.
You just roll your eyes back at him before facing the TV. โIf you donโt want to complain what stupid thing Batman made you do today, fine by me.โ you huff out.
And he canโt help the loud laugh that escapes him.
This.
This is all he needs.
A selfish part of him may want for more, to not have to restrict himself to these few times a month, craving for a domestic dream. He wants it so bad, to have you by his side, to be the one to take care and be trusted by you, to be everything for you.
He snorts internally. That would your worst nightmare. For you to be tied down to wreck like him, an unstable anomaly that couldn't control his rage. You deserve better, someone whole.
Someone who you wouldnโt have to take care of, to be something that drags you down with him.
ย He couldnโt prove to you that you were right to keep your distance at first. To be the monster everyone makes him seem like.
It took time to build your trust and to let him in.
He's not going lose it to a pesky thing called love.
"-son? Jason?" he suddenly turns to you, shaking his head from his stupor.
"Everything fine?โ, you question him, giving a once-over that shouldn't send shivers down his body. โYou seemed a little spaced out?โ
"Yeah" a strained laugh rings out. Putting the empty dish on the table, he turns to you.
"So let me tell you what happened on patrol."
And just like that, as he's recalling the day, he can't help exaggerating it, all the tension melting away. All the problems in the world seem so small, for if you are there, by his side in no matter what way, who cares.
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!Reader | Vigilante!Reader
Word Count: 2.7k
Credits: 1 2 3 divider
Summary: The feelings you tried to bury down for a certain green eyed man seem to arise, after waking up with petals in your throat.
Authorโs Note: My first fic that I've posted after years so give me grace lol. Also this was supposed to be a oneshot/practise writing and now I have to split it into two parts.
Warnings: Mention of vomiting and blood. Second half was written half asleep without my glasses I apologize.
Prologue
๐๐๐ซ๐ญ ๐จ๐ง๐
It's funny, you think as you stare at the page in front of you.
These emotions, the feelings that you tried to shove down, the same ones that you've kept a secret to ensure stability in the team and keep your heart from pain, coming to choke you back.
It was never supposed to go this deep.
ย You've had crushes before; silly little puppy loves throughout life. Nothing your mind spent too much time dwelling on. Hell, you're pretty sure having a crush on Dick was a part of anyone's initiation process to the whole vigilante thing.
But this?
This means something.
For the roots to take hold, the love you feel must already be so buried into your soul, so intwined with your very being that it manifests physically.
โฆ
Youโve screwed up really bad.
You look back at the petals in your hand, seemingly crushed by your fingers as you were lost in thought. Bright yellow with a few strands of pollen, the latter surely making your throat still itch. Theyโre clean now, along with the rest of your floor. But you think you can still smell that awful mix of sweet and acid.
Yellow feels like a joke. It was the last colour you would associate with him.
Red, obviously. Or green, for his eyes. But staring at the yellow peeking through your fist, you take second to question if it even is him.
You snort out loud.
Of course it's him.
Who else can raise your heart by just entering the room, unknowingly taking all your attention. Who else burrowed so deep into your heart that you don't know how you ever lived without him.
Who else would make you want to be a better person, a person who makes you want live through another day just so you can see him one more time.
Pathetic, a voice sounding too much like Damian, whispers within you. Making yourself vulnerable, making a person your weakness.
You sigh.
You can wallow in your unrequited love any other day. this was not new. What you should be doing is making a plan. How are you going to deal with this.
As far as you know, there are two ways to cure Hanahaki. The obvious confession of feelings, where your get your fairytale romance of requited love and the flowers disappear in an instant as the movies claim. Or the much more reasonable surgery. a simple operation to remove the roots of the plants, along with whatever feelings a person may have.
The risks are high, you know that. The extensive list of side effects listed in the medical book is not an exaggeration. For people who dedicated their lives to their loved ones, few lose their purpose in life.
Cases show theyโve lost interest in all things and stopped being themselves. And other lose their ability to love permanently. Any type of love. But these are not enough stop you.
You sigh. Itโs not like you have any other choice. Even confessing to Jason will put you in the same path and you like to be efficient. Quick. Deal with the problem and jump to the next one.
ย It has nothing to do with clawing feeling in your stomach when you even think about mentioning your feelings to anyone.
*โ โพโ*
You arenโt afraid to admit you are a scared of Leslie Thompkins โ one of the few that could defy Batman and lie to his face. Making her the perfect person to go to.
โRight so you know your options well thenโ she stares at you, one eyebrow raised.
You try not to shrink under her gaze, keeping a steady front.
โA surgery seems the bestโ.
You see an imperceptibleย change in her face though you canโt seem to decipher her emotions. She waits a moment, collecting her words, before nodding.
โRight, if youโre so sure then come down to the clinic a week from now.โ
What
Her eyebrow seems to raise higher of possible.
Right. You said that out loud.
โAre you sure there isnโt way to do it much soonerโ you plead. You need this done quick, before anybody can find out. Sooner the better
โIโd rather get it done quickly," sounding unashamedly desperate.
โWith the recent hijinks in Gotham, some of the medical supplies have been depleting more fasterโ She shuffles around the white office you both are in, opening a few drawers here and there, โand with yourโฆ condition still in the its early stages itโs not too much of a risk to delay the surgery for a few daysโ
Tell that to your sore throat and the ruined carpet of your living room.
You donโt voice your displeasure, but it must be evident on your face.
She finally comes up to you with a long strip of tablets, and holds it out to you, still talking.
โTake these for whenever you feel an itching in your throat, they would numb the feeling for a while.โ
You nod. But halfway to the door, she stops you.
She says your name, โAnd if you can, I would highly advise you confess. It may do you more good than you thinkโ. Thereโs a knowing look in her eye.
Right, Alfred and she are close friends, and you donโt bet that Alfred doesnโt have an inkling of your feelings. Didnโt take that man for a gossip but also maybe your feelings are embarrassingly obvious that Doctor Thompkins who you have limited conversations with can also figure them out.
You thank her quietly and leave.
By the time you exit out the back entrance, you feel like you can finally breathe. You scan youโre the rooftops overhead as you make your quick way home. Sure, this goes past the usual paranoia, but youโre keeping your caution at the forefront.
Because you already know what happens if anyone finds out.
You might not be a part of their family, but Bruce always saw you as part of his team. Especially after taking you under his wing for your โnightlyโ activities.
Tim and Stephanie, your best friends, Dick someone you always looked up to and even Damian, despite the evidence to the contrary, tolerates you to an extent.
And Jasonโ
You donโt let yourself finish that thought.
ย Itโs basically a love language for them, to try and solve otherโs problems whether how intrusive or invasive it may be.
You snicker, knowing their intentions and being a part of that world, you know thatโs how they show they care. Hell, you and Stephanie basically camped in Timโs apartment after a real nasty hit he took during patrol. Had to tie him down to the bed to get him to relax .
Metaphorically. Not really.
Speaking of, Tim might be the first to see any discrepancy in your schedule, just last week asking Dick why he spent 15 minutes more than he usually does at the gym.
It will spread from there to Stephanie and Cass, and then by the end of the day, youโll have them banging at your door. And your poker face isnโt really up to the task to defy stand against them all. Or maybe Jason already knows how you feel and will come to confront you about it
The familiar feeling of petals builds up in your body. You rub your throat, trying to ease the pain. It seems like the mere mention of him in your thoughts can stir up the flowers.
So, for the next one week to go smoothly, you might need to avoid making any drastic changes, keep the phone calls and the visits to the clinic to a minimum, no matter how much you want a rip out the roots in your lungs.
โฆYou should have used a burner phone to make your appointment.
Fuck.
*โ โพโ*
You grapple to the nearest building, lowering yourself quietly to the dark alley way. Rats evade your path as you faintly make your way to the dumpsters in the back. And you promptly empty your heart, or in this case lungs out.
The past two days were a breeze, compared to what you thought. Patrols were easy enough, you havenโt met anyone that noticed anything. You postphoned going out with your civilian friends but needed no excuse, for they were so understanding that you nearly wanted to cry for their help anyways, no matter how selfish it was (they didnโt even know who Jason was, no use dragging them into this).
You only crossed paths with Cass who asked about your red eyes, and youโve made an short excuse of sand getting in, the answer being fortunately interrupted with a mugging, below you.
Bu things seem to get worse for you. The mere thought of Jason in now making you cough, the petals growing in size.
Now, trying to keep the volume at bay, you try to remove the acrid taste from your mouth. It was all blood and petals now. Staining the gravel below.
Ping
A text. And as if by the sheer force of you thinking about him, the text is by him.
-โComingโ
All the precautions in the world, and thus stupid text is what might expose you.
You should refuse. You ARE going to refuse. It would be crazy not to when just a text makes it hard to breathe.
Just as try to type, to say sorry and refuse, another text comes along.
-โbad dayโ
Thereโs the heavy hitter.
Because this is one thing you canโt refuse. A place for him to unburden himself and somehow being with you seems to do that. And unadmittingly large part of you, wants to see him. To be in his presence as if all your worries would disappear at the sight of him.
Ironic.
But you can do this. Just one night and who knows when you will see him again.
Everything will be fine.
*โ โพโ*
Jason was having a bad day.
Scratch that, a bad week.
A trail regarding high profile drug dealers led to a dead end, Bruce reprimanded him again in front of the whole team, and to top it all off, a stupid store robbery in the middle his patrol, that usually takes 10 minutes to diffuse, escalated when more guns got to the scene.
And now heโs irritated, annoyed and all the other words in a dictionary. Add a slightly bruised ego to that, everything is trying to get under his skin and all throughout the ordeal, he has been vibrating as if awaiting something.
He knows what it is.
He lands with a soft thump on the small landing, barely qualifying as a balcony. A single lone plant, on the brink of death, occupies the space. Lifting his phone to his face, he can once again see his message to be delivered and read. Just a single reaction of thumbs up.
Typical.
Switching it off, he is now enshrouded in the usual darkness of the night, barely seeing anything beyond the thick curtains covering the glass door. But he can hear you.
Hear you probably standing near the sink, a cacophony of dishes clattering as you stand just a few metres from him. And already a warmth blooms in his chest. He can barely tamp down the small smile and a blush โheโs lucky to be hidden beneath the helmetโ tapping on the glass door, not too quick or loud as to betray his eagerness.
Immediately the sound of water stops, and he can your footsteps nearing.
And there you are in all your glory.
He barely raises an arm to wave โhiโ when you open the glass door
"Hey,โ you say closing the door behind him after he slips in. Removing his helmet, he quietly follows you, as you pad back to the sink.
"3-day old stir fry in the fridge" you answer his unasked question before turning back to your dishes.
Itโs quiet in the kitchen, just the sounds of you washing and the microwave buzz.
Itโs hard to know when this started. Maybe when you first arrived at his warehouse*, the closest one you knew, though your relationship was still on the rocks. When he finally noticed your injuries after berating you for intruding before quietly slinking off, probably making you think he left you before coming back with a first aid kit. (Then berating you for not going to the Cave anyways)
*to be fair, you thought it was a abandoned and needed a breather to lick your wounds
Or maybe it was just weeks later, seeing him trying to stitch himself in an alleyway near your neighbourhood. The least you could do is provide a clean space for him to heal.
The awkward silence broken by the offer of food, which was the olive branch you both needed. Starting the tradition of crashing into each otherโs places, for aid and emergency carb loading in the middle of patrol, quickly transitioning into texting and more casual late-night visits, under the guise of venting.
To his knowledge, the others just think you are at most acquaintances, something both of you havenโt refrained from correcting. You may not have felt it, but he was relieved. These nights essentially becoming a haven, away from everything and everyone.
His thoughts are interrupted by the beeping of the microwave, and after eating for a minute, all while standing at the counter, he finally looks at you.
Tense shoulders, tired eyes and subtle glances at him, you were trying to be inconspicuous.
โCome on then, if you already ate without me, the least you could do is keep me company,โ he tries to quip. He doesnโt know whatโs worrying you but surely youโll open up after some time.
"Oh, sorry next time Iโll just wait till 3 am to eat my dinner," you can't help but snark and he finally grins back. You follow him though, to the couch and he sees your shoulders dropping as you lean back.
โYou owe me,โ you mutter before reaching for the remote. With the background noise of some random sitcom secured, you turn towards him. โNow spill, whatโs got you looking like youโre going to break my walls.โ
He chuckled through a mouthful of food.
โI would argue you had it worse, you look like you havenโt slept. Or eaten,โ he raises his eyebrows.
You just roll your eyes back at him before facing the TV. โIf you donโt want to complain what stupid thing Batman made you do today, fine by me.โ you huff out.
And he canโt help the loud laugh that escapes him.
This.
This is all he needs.
A selfish part of him may want for more, to not have to restrict himself to these few times a month, craving for a domestic dream. He wants it so bad, to have you by his side, to be the one to take care and be trusted by you, to be everything for you.
He snorts internally. That would your worst nightmare. For you to be tied down to wreck like him, an unstable anomaly that couldn't control his rage. You deserve better, someone whole.
Someone who you wouldnโt have to take care of, to be something that drags you down with him.
ย He couldnโt prove to you that you were right to keep your distance at first. To be the monster everyone makes him seem like.
It took time to build your trust and to let him in.
He's not going lose it to a pesky thing called love.
"-son? Jason?" he suddenly turns to you, shaking his head from his stupor.
"Everything fine?โ, you question him, giving a once-over that shouldn't send shivers down his body. โYou seemed a little spaced out?โ
"Yeah" a strained laugh rings out. Putting the empty dish on the table, he turns to you.
"So let me tell you what happened on patrol."
And just like that, as he's recalling the day, he can't help exaggerating it, all the tension melting away. All the problems in the world seem so small, for if you are there, by his side in no matter what way, who cares.
Thatโs not what scares you, the nightmares. But this tightness. A tightness in your chest thatโs making is harder to breathe every passing moment. You take a deep breathe and you can feel it, pressure building in your chest.
You cough, trying to force whatever it is out.
A moment passes
And suddenly youโre doubling over the side of the bed, vomit staining the floors. Coming out with such a force that you quickly grab on to the bed frame to avoid tumbling down.
You touch your fingers to your lips but you donโt need to confirm what you already know. The sharp metallic taste in your mouth. Blood
Fuck
You scramble to switch on the bed lamp, carefully sitting more up now. Your head feels like itโs been through a wood chipper and so does your throat, but as your vision slowly clears, you see it finally.
Petals. Yellow ones that seemed to a be stark contrast to the blood staining them.
And before you can even think of what it means, (surely a mistake, it must have been something bad you ate this can't mean something)
Thatโs not what scares you, the nightmares. But this tightness. A tightness in your chest thatโs making is harder to breathe every passing moment. You take a deep breathe and you can feel it, pressure building in your chest.
You cough, trying to force whatever it is out.
A moment passes
And suddenly youโre doubling over the side of the bed, vomit staining the floors. Coming out with such a force that you quickly grab on to the bed frame to avoid tumbling down.
You touch your fingers to your lips but you donโt need to confirm what you already know. The sharp metallic taste in your mouth. Blood
Fuck
You scramble to switch on the bed lamp, carefully sitting more up now. Your head feels like itโs been through a wood chipper and so does your throat, but as your vision slowly clears, you see it finally.
Petals. Yellow ones that seemed to a be stark contrast to the blood staining them.
And before you can even think of what it means, (surely a mistake, it must have been something bad you ate this can't mean something)
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