Aug 7
Can't beleive no one has written a carcar hanahaki au! They were practically MADE for that shit homygod
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Can't beleive no one has written a carcar hanahaki au! They were practically MADE for that shit homygod
after all my years in fandom. finally gave hanahaki disease a chance.
How does Achilles (Hades) handle Hanahaki?
Confesses immediately
Takes the cure despite the consequences
refuses to confess until the last second
ignores the problem entirely
What kind of flowes should Javk get when he gets hanahaki?
Lillies
Daffodils
Peony
Orchids
Because @permanent-fire-hazard wants to be kill me. Here is my retaliation to this post.
It took Jack an embarrassingly long time to realize what happened.
The way Michael held him like he was trying to memorize the exact indents he mad against his skin. The subsequent months of nothing. At first he was afraid for a different reason. He’s seen it with some of his guys, felt it for a while after coming back.
God.
Robby felt.
He felt for an elderly person who sat on a park bench with the ghost of another. He felt for a young child racing through the park fully trusting the world to be kind to them. He felt for dogs that rambled along with their owner even as their body sags with exhaustion.
It was something Jack could never fully comprehend. How a man who bleeds every emotion could somehow be a doctor, an emergency doctor, of all things.
And he might’ve always feared that one day Robby would feel just a little too much of the wrong thing.
He nearly cried with relief when he heard Michael’s voice. It was calm and even and completely unaffected after hearing Jack’s voice. That was the first hint. One that Jack couldn’t even see until hours later after pulling himself out of a spiral.
I’m sorry, sir, but I really don’t know you. Sir. Robby called him sir.
Sir is for E-1’s who sound like their balls haven’t dropped yet. Sir is for random civilians who see him in uniform. Sir is for cheeky assholes like Martinez. Sir is not for Michael Robinavitch who knows him too well to ever have that distant respect.
I hope you find who you’re looking for. But it’s Robby. He was looking for Robby. He’s always looking for Robby.
Why does Robby sound like he doesn’t know him?
He’s not the type to pull some elaborate cruel prank.
Some part of his brain—the doctor, the person that looks at twenty injured men and determines who’s actually got a shot at surviving—pieces it together. The wedding. The sudden disappearance. The apparent lack of memory.
But he’s a soldier, he doesn’t leave a man behind. He doesn’t abandon his battle buddy, and Robby’s been his since they were twenty one with brains melting during Physiology.
Charlotte find him manically trying to call Robby back.
She doesn’t try to stop him once he explains. She holds him when realty hits and his calls aren’t even going through anymore.
~~~~~
The world has some fucked up sense of humor. Truly, cruelly.
Dr. Robinavitch is in front of him. Ten years older with a beard and the implication of crowsfeet. He has his hand out to shake Jack’s. They’re on the same panel, how to handle trauma in unprecedented events. The aftermath of a hurricane and an active battlefield respectively.
Dr. Robinavitch looks good, healthy with a slight bounce in his step. He mentions a boy, Jake. The way he sounds…it’s like he’s his own son.
Jack notices Dr. Robinavitch mindlessly rub his chest. Right between his ribs.
Jack makes sure to stay clear of Dr. Robinavitch.
~~~~~
Jack comes to Pittsburgh to die.
He promised Charlotte after the convention fiasco to never look up Michael Robinavitch. Not professionally and certainly not personally. She demanded this for his own sake and that’s why he was resistant. It wasn’t until she started to sound bitter that he finally acquiesced. He was always better at doing right by others than by himself.
Charlotte’s dead now. He laid her to rest a month ago. Most everything was sold or given to various family members. Jack certainly wouldn’t need it.
The only thing he keeps is his ring.
He slides into the emergency department without any resistance. He’s not planning on staying too long but he doesn’t wish to go out on that bad of a note.
He’s placed on nights which is inconvenient because Robby’s a day attending. But it’s so poetic Jack can’t find it in himself to try and change shifts. It’ll just mean his plan will take a bit longer. Which means more suffering. More penance.
He doesn’t fall in love with Michael, he woke up to it. Something latent turning over and coming back into conciousness. Jack doesn’t immediately try to befriend him, but they’re about the same age, unmarried, and in the same nightmarish job.
It starts with dragging their feet during handoff, the evolves to drinks at the bar, then mutates to going over to Robby’s. His town house leaves Jack hollow, every room is shifted 2.5 inches to the left. Almost in the form of home decor.
It’s the same hybrid of classic wood, mid century modern, and esoteric mad scientist. There’s no pictures of Robby during med school.
Jack starts to insist they go to his, citing accessibility. Robby is needlessly apologetic about being ‘inconsiderate’. Jack figures he needs to buy a coffee table and some plants to not seem suspicious.
It’s easy, loving Michael Robinavitch. It’s easy to love his compassion, his dedication, his loyalty.
The flowers remain stubbornly dormant.
Years past. Adamson dies. Jack starts therapy and greatly minimizes his reason for coming to Pittsburgh. Robby continues to decline. There’s still no damn flowers.
Neither of them say anything.
Pittfest is another type of beast. One that everyone handles with depressing efficiency. Over worked, over stretched, under paid, and not protected. They still do their damn jobs.
He finds Robby on the roof on the wrong side of the barricade and Jack thinks, “This is it. If he goes I go. One way or another.”
Not exactly how he planned it all those years ago, but it would hurt. It might be enough for absolution. No it won’t. Nothing will.
But he can’t let Michael die.
The leave that night and for a moment Jack can imagine what life might’ve been like if they weren’t cowards. If Robby fessed up. If he just reached out during those eleven months. If he tried to explain during the conference. If he confessed now.
Maybe they never would’ve been lovers, maybe they’d always just be brothers in arms. But there would’ve been this comradery and some delusional part of Jack thinks it would be enough.
By the time the 4th comes around everyone’s lost and nothing is okay. Jack’s finally watching his oldest Robby fear come to life. Robby feeling too much of the wrong thing.
It’s ugly.
He’s mean.
He can’t even look Jack in the eye.
Jack’s never left a man behind. He doesn’t plan to now.
“It’s you and me.” A vow and a curse and the only thing keeping either of them here.
Robby rides off and Jack wonder for the nth time why he doesn’t have and flowers.
He loses his mind quietly in the peds ward (thankfully void of children and corpses). Why are there no flowers. He loves Robby. Probably had for much longer than he was ever aware of. And Robby can’t love him. Because that’s the whole point of the surgery and he hates him for making that call and loves him for doing what he must to survive and hates himself for being the cause of all this and maybe hates Charlotte because if not for her he would’ve figured it out eventually. Right? Would he? He would have to. Because the alternative is he would’ve just forced Robby to suffer permanently and what kind of friend, doctor, person would he be?
Thankfully Pittsburgh’s kind and Jack’s spiral is uninterrupted.
He gets back to his house and he notices a motorcycle.
He practically trips through the door. Would crawl over glass of that’s what it took because what if he’s too slow and Robby decides to leave?
There, on his couch, wrapped in an old sweatshirt of their Ala Mater, Michael looks like he did thirty years ago.
Jack doesn’t wake him. He brews some tea, black tea with honey just the way Robby’s Bubbe makes it.
Michael wakes up only because his body isn’t so exhausted that it can’t sense another presence in the room.
Jack’s sitting on a chair. There’s the tea on the coffee table he scrounged from a garage sale because it was only meant to be needed for two years.
Jack and Robby know each other fairly well in this life. Jack knows Robby’s coffee order; Robby knows Jack’s IPA preferences.
Jack shouldn’t know Robby prefers black tea but doesn’t drink it as often because he can it reconcile his job with its caffeine to liquid ratio. He definitely shouldn’t know he prefers it brewed on the lighter side with only half a teaspoon of honey.
Robby look and Jack and something nudges closer to it’s correct place. The switch precariously tilting to the correct side and closing the circuit.
He sounds like he’s testing out the name.
“Jack.”
All right @permanent-fire-hazard, I see your incredible hanahaki story and raise you hanahaki with some body horror.
Robby was not a stupid man. He was the chief attending at one of the top EDs in the country for Christ sakes. He was plenty smart, thank you. He was also fully aware of what was going around him despite what some people thought. He might not always work on his flaws but he was aware of them.
So when he coughed up the first set of red petals, he didn't bother trying to argue himself out of it. He had seen enough Hanahaki patients in his time to know what was happening. He also knew it was because of Jack. But he wasn't about to make a move on a married man.
Treatments had come a long way since he was in med school. There were ways to stem the tide of the petals but still no cure other than surgery. Robby started the pills when he graduated from petals to full buds with the thorny stems scratching up his throat. The weed killer in them would destroy the flowers but also his insides. These were not for long term use.
So he altered between the pills and the symptoms as he did his best to handle his unrequited attraction to his best friend. It wasn't an optimal situation but it was manageable. That was all he really needed in the end. Even when Jack's wife died, Robby kept up his treatments and his silence. Jack was straight. There was no point in even trying. Of course there was the option to undergo surgery but he couldn't do that to Jack. To deprive him a friend when he was at his lowest. Jack needed him and he had to be there for his friend.
And there was a sick part of him that liked the thorns as they ripped through his throat pulling out bloody pulp along with them. It felt like the universe punishing him for the many sins he seemed to commit so often. When Covid hit, he went off the meds entirely, allowed it to scrape him open from the inside out to make his physical self match his mental self image. But he wasn't stupid so he did go back when they started blooming. There were too few doctors, he couldn't check out now.
Robby was a doctor which meant he knew he was abusing the pills to keep his disease in check. By the time the 4th of July came around, he had the plan formed in his mind. Jack was clearly enamored with Samira and she could give Jack what he couldn't. Dana had told him the ED would survive without him. It was time to let the disease run its course.
He stopped taking the pills after he left the Pittsburg city limits. At first it was just the tickle of petals which felt cooling compared to sharp stick of thorns. But he had been holding back too long and the disease caught up with it's course quickly. Robby could barely go a mile without a full rose clawinng its way up his throat and out of his mouth.
The woman behind desk of the motel six he stopped at gave him a worried look at he pulled the fully bloomed rose out of his mouth. Robby waved off her concern as he paid for a room for the night. He staggered to the room, feeling wood coming up which meant the end was near. He ripped out one of the thorns as he collapsed on the floor of his rented motel room and began to carve.
The next morning, a scream echoed through the sky as the maid opened the door of the room to a bloody scene. A grown man lay on the carpet, a rose bush sprouting from his mouth with petals gently raining down on his face. Scratched into one arm was the word "JACK" and on the other was "I'M SORRY".
sighhhh i wish i could get a free bag of chips (newt x fem!reader hanahaki au where newt cant be what she needs and its really angsty and devastating) sighhhh if only
Hanahaki disease
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