TPN Ray / Hanahaki AU / Modern
There you were again, stuck between death and your friends’ happiness. Naturally, you chose your friends’ happiness. It’s what you did last time.
God, you thought, how lovely it would be if death didn’t chase you around just to taunt you. You wished for that sweet sweet release of death over and over, every time it happens, you just wanted it to be over. This time, it mocked you for your pride. Your reluctance to accept your own feelings even though you were well aware about them. It was your hobby to dismiss romantic connection, you thought it was a hindrance to better things to work on; wherein you didn’t even know what those ‘better’ things were.
Life slapped you in the face and told you this was one of them, when you saw your best friend Norman up on that small hill behind your school confessing to Emma who eventually hit it off and started walking home together frequently. You had a hint of happiness for them, of course you recall Norman telling you that he had some infatuation for Emma when you were kids. Though, no one noticed you didn’t have at least one say about your feelings.
That’s how you got the infamous so-called Hanahaki disease. A rare condition born from unrequited love that makes the victim throw up or cough from petals to flowers, it gets worse as the feelings grow bigger but not returned. It ends if this unrequited love is returned romantically or removed through surgery and thankfully for you, the feelings disappear as well. Though, no matter how much you persisted that you did possess such a condition, no one believed you. It never acted up in public either, so you were forced to take it upon yourself and suffer.
You saw them everyday walking through the same halls as you did, and as much as you showed nothing but appreciation for them, it sickened you shortly after. It would go from light contractions in your air pipe, to not being able to breathe until you clear your throat which leads to, at most, throwing a whole bloody plant up and out your throat. You thanked God that at least your nasty throw-ups would always occur at home.
If it doesn’t get treated overtime, the victim dies of a wide variety of reasons. You accepted that you would finally die soon and everything would stop.
Though, you weren’t aware of your special case, you won’t die from petals clogging your throat. A whole Vida plant will force itself out of your gullet to grow. Why else is there forceful pressure when you don’t clear your throat?