COSMOS

Weeping cherry blossoms: lies

What if... what if the sheer existence of myself is torture to someone I care? What if every time I talk, the person writhes in pain? What if every time I laugh, the person cries in agony? Will he hate me eventually? Will he wish we have never met? Maybe wish I were dead? Do I need to keep on living?

I don't know what is right anymore. What should I do?

Tell me, what should I do?

***

"It's a hanahaki disease, still in its early stage though."

The voice of a doctor was calm and nonchalant as if casually bringing up what he ate for lunch. It's stage 4 lung cancer. It's pneumonia. It's tuberculosis. It's a hanahaki disease. Just another diagnosis for the doctor, the sound of the world crumbling beneath his feet for Brett.

"I have seen roses and cherry blossoms for this condition but this is the first time I have seen cosmoses," the doctor commented as he flipped through Brett's medical record.

Brett stared at his chest X-ray, his eyes solemn and dark. Between the white and the black of his ribcage, small flowers were blooming inside his lungs. And Brett thought Eddy was the one who was into indoor gardening.

Cosmoses. Why cosmoses though?

"The medical community has yet to figure out the exact reason behind the condition but it is a rare disease in which flowers begin to grow inside the lungs due to one-sided love. If left unattended, the roots start to damage the heart and lungs, the petals block the airway, ultimately leading to suffocation," the doctor kindly explained, making sure Brett was following him.

"Is there a cure?" Brett asked slowly, rubbing his chest. The sight was sickening, to be honest, and Brett couldn't believe this was actually happening to him. Everything seemed like a bad joke.

"The condition usually ends when the romantic feeling is returned. When this is not possible, surgical removal is the only option. The side effects of the surgery may remove the patient's romantic feelings for their love as well as the memories of his or her lover."

"What??" Brett shouted, almost too loudly. Brett covered his mouth in surprise and then whispered again - "what??"

"I would say it is not the side effect of the surgery itself but the body trying to protect itself from another hanahaki disease. Almost like an alternate form of active immunity."

"But...but I can't lose him! I mean...we kind of work together and we have this business and tour and videos and..." Brett yammered on, terrified.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Yang," the doctor shook his head slowly.

"Is there ... is there anything else to reduce the symptoms at least?" Brett asked shakily.

"There is an inhaler used to soothe the coughing and the pain, temporarily. I will prescribe it to you today."

"Thank you," Brett murmured.

"You need to come to the hospital as soon as you start to cough up full flowers. That signals complete obstruction of the airway in a few days."

"Of course," Brett nodded.

Please, stop yearning for something you can't have, my heart.

***

"So... it was an asthma attack?" Eddy asked when Brett took out the inhaler.

"Yep, didn't know I had one," Brett breathed into the device just before the cough hit him. The scent of bittersweet lemon filled his lungs. He felt the effect of the drug numbing his airway, dull pain in his chest subsiding a little.