blooming through the concrete [✔] (Miguel O'Hara x Reader)

Chapter 5

"What do you mean 'hanahaki'? That's impossible!" It''s hard to tune out the loud conversation happening outside of the hospital room. Muffled arguing can be heard from behind the door as you try your best to get comfortable in a metal chair propped up against a wall. You're sitting in a pristine white room next to one of the four fully equipped beds. Only one of them is occupied by a patient at the moment.

You look at Miguel's sleeping form and take in the steady movement of his chest as the beeping of a heart monitor echoes through the sterile room. Your eyes follow the tubes snaked around his body, connecting him to a chunky ventilator standing at his bedside. He's okay. He's not dying.

You feel tears prickle in the corner of your eyes.

He is dying.

Your initial reaction to seeing the petal on his lips was denial. There's no way that Miguel could love someone enough to actually grow flowers in his lungs. It had to be some speck of debris from the environment around you.

You clung to this thought as the Spider-Doc emerged through the portal and stabilized the man's condition. It remained in your mind as the three of you returned to Earth-928 and landed in the middle of the infirmary. You kept wishing that it wasn't true as they hooked him up to a life-support system and x-rayed his chest to determine the source of this relentless bleeding.

Looking at the shocked expression on the doctor's face you realized that your hope was futile.

It was hanahaki.

You gently place your bare hand on Miguel's, giving it a tender squeeze. You know that he would scoff at such a gesture if he were awake, so you wanna do it while you still can.

It's an interesting experience, being able to actually feel his skin. The man's usual holographic suit has been replaced by a light-blue hospital gown. You glance at your watch, noting the hour.

The doctor said he should wake up in a few hours and that the only reason as to why he fainted in the first place was lack of oxygen - most likely caused by petals blocking up his respiratory system. Miguel was rushed to the surgery room and the majority of the petals got removed.

"Not all, unfortunately. I couldn't remove them all cause-"

"We know. That's Miguel's decision to make."

"God." You whisper to his motionless form, tightening your grip on his hand. "You really are dying." It's hard to hate him when the shade of his skin nearly blends with the white sheets. "I'm sorry for being a nuisance. I'll stop I swear, just..." You quickly wipe away your tears before they manage to escape. "Just don't die on me."

The door creeks open behind you, causing you to quickly let go of his hand. Miguel stirs on the bed and for a second you worry that you woke him up. His eyes remain shut, and you can't help but feel a tad disappointed.

"He's still sleeping?" Asks Jessica, approaching your seat. She places a hand on your shoulder and you lift your head to meet her concerned gaze.

"Yeah, unfortunately." You answer, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You don't want her to see that you've been crying, though the redness of your eyes probably already gave it away. "I overheard some of your 'conversation' with Spider-Doc. Any news?" Apart from the fact that your frie- leader is on the brink of death.

"Not much." She sighs, her hands finding their place on the back of your seat. "I did find out that it's apparently a fairly recent development. Doc said that the flower buds in his lungs seem to be about a week old." She pauses, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Which begs the question, why did we only learn about this now?" You both fixate on the steady, yet shaky, rise and fall of his chest. Jessica's tone shifts as she picks up where she left off, this time tinged with anger. "Do you think... he was planning to keep it to himself? That he wouldn't have told anyone until it was too late? Until he was-"

"Jessica." You cut her off before she manages to say that dreaded word. "Like you said, the buds look very young, he probably... he probably needed some time to process everything." You briefly touch her hand, offering a comforting squeeze before releasing it. "I'm sure it will all make more sense when he wakes up and we can talk to him. For now, let's... we should just let him rest."

As you shift your gaze back down onto Miguel's peaceful form you don't see a flicker of curiosity in Jessica's eyes as the woman glances between you and him. Her brows furrow, deep in thought. After a few seconds, she finally spots your bandaged leg.

"And how are you feeling? Heard you needed stitches." You flinch at the memory.

"Yeah, the wound was pretty deep. I have no clue how it even happened, you know? One minute you're just talking to a bad guy and then bam, you're being hurled at walls." You feel tired just talking about this.

"The two of you were just talking, hmm? No funny business?" She raises her eyebrow teasingly and you stumble over your words.

"Ok, maybe I was flirting, but just a little! Didn't even get a chance to comment on his luscious lips." You fake a resigned sigh. To be honest, you're not really in the mood for thinking about the villain. All your thoughts are solely consumed by Miguel. "... do you think he'll make it?"

"He has to." Jessica responds softly. "I don't think the Spider Society can survive without him."

"I don't think I can either." You murmur under your breath, and against your better judgment, reach out to intertwine your fingers with his. Jessica looks down on your jointed hands and this time she knows exactly what's going on. Her lips press into a tight line.

"Okay, I'm going to go." You look back up at her. "You coming with? You deserve some better place to sleep than just a chair, this can't be comfortable." You chuckle at her concern.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. I can stay here for an hour or two, I don't want him to wake up alone." Being a Spider-Man means taking risks, and taking risks means almost dying on a daily basis. You know the feeling of waking up alone in your room after a nasty fight all too well, you don't want him to experience it too.

Not right now.

"Suit yourself. Text me when he wakes up." And with that, you are back to being the only awake person in the room. You readjust your grip on his hand and try to get more comfortable in your seat, closing your eyes as you rest your head on the wall behind you.

A nap sounds amazing right now.