ATEEZ ONESHOTS [BXB]

-A Silent Bouquet (2)-

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3ʀᴅ ᴘᴏᴠ
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✎...

"Hyung... who do you like?"

Yunho's fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt, twisting the fabric nervously as his eyes fixed on the floor. The silence stretched, his gaze unmoving, betraying his inner turmoil. "I... I can't say."

Mingi's expression tightened, his brow furrowing and lips pressing into a thin line. His eyes, darkened by frustration, quickly softened into a look of sorrow. "Yunho, you know you have Hanakai disease. The only way to break free is if they love you back or if you face rejection. Please... don't make me lose another friend."

Yunho's head lifted slightly, his eyes wide with a mixture of confusion and concern. "Another one?"

Mingi's gaze shifted away, his shoulders sagging with a visible ache. "Before I moved here... there was someone. He had Hanakai disease and loved me, but I never realized it. A mutual friend had to tell me. I was so absorbed in my own problems that I missed the signs. By the time I understood, it was too late. He was gone, and I was left with a heavy heart full of guilt."

Yunho's eyes widened further, a pang of regret flickering across his face. "Oh, Mingi... I'm so sorry."

Mingi's voice softened, a gentler edge to his words now. "It's okay. But you have to talk to them. Keeping it to yourself might destroy you. Anyway, I have to head out. Try to take it easy, and I'll see you later." He pulled Yunho into a tight embrace, holding on as if to anchor them both against the weight of the conversation.

Yunho returned the hug with a faint, strained smile. "Thanks, Gi."

As Mingi left for work, Yunho watched the door close with a sense of finality, the click of the latch echoing in the quiet room. He sank onto his bed with a weary groan, sprawling out as if trying to escape the pressure of his thoughts. His hands raked through his hair, and he pressed a palm against his chest, feeling the relentless thudding of his heart. Anxiety knotted in his stomach, mixing with a sharp, burning sensation in his lungs—each breath felt labored, as though he had inhaled the acrid smoke of a hundred cigarettes.

Mingi had told Yunho's mother about his condition, but she had only assumed he was ill, not grasping the severity of his affliction. Yunho turned to the window, watching the dark clouds gather. The sky mirrored his own gloom, each raindrop against the window a small, comforting rhythm. He allowed himself a small, bittersweet smile, finding solace in the rain's quiet mourning.

Days passed, and Yunho's condition worsened. He had hoped to be well enough for school, but when morning came, he collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as a harsh cough wracked his body. Blood splattered onto his hand as he coughed violently, prompting his mother to rush in and help him into a seated position.

Desperate, she took him to the doctor, but the physicians were baffled by his symptoms. Their confusion led them to prescribe basic medications and send him home. During the drive, Yunho could sense his mother's growing anxiety; her rigid posture and the tight grip on the steering wheel spoke volumes. Despite his attempts to reassure her, he felt the sting of guilt.

Messages from friends trickled in, their notifications a steady but unremarkable hum against the backdrop of silence from Wooyoung. Each ping felt like a reminder of his absence, an ache that pierced Yunho's chest deeper than he anticipated. He wrestled with his thoughts, desperately trying to push Wooyoung out of his mind, but each effort seemed to amplify the gnawing pain in his body.