The Great Book of One-Shots

Hanahaki

I'll be posting random one-shots between requests for a bit since all the ones I have to do now are smut and I kinda want to break them up with some non-smut :P

So, I found out about the Hanhaki disease thing on tumblr and, after doing some research, had to write about it!!

Warning: blood, character death

Enjoy!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ben had a good idea of what it was that was making his chest hurt. When he started coughing, the suspicion only grew stronger. When he started coughing up specks of red, he was almost certain. When a few bloody rose petals came up after a coughing fit, it was undeniable.

He had Hanahaki Disease. The condition that made victims out of those with an unrequited love.

Just a month ago, Ben had finally gathered up enough courage to tell his best friend that he was in love with him. Though, when he confessed to Ian, he had been met with an awkward pause and an eventual "Sorry, dude, I don't feel the same."

He had instantly been heartbroken and found himself forcing a smile as he spoke, "It's fine. It was just a silly little crush anyways, nothing big. Still friends?"

Ian had smiled back, "Still friends."

They had carried on the day like normal and Ben had gone home around sunset, as he usually did. It was there that he broke down.

Because he had been rejected.

Because he had lied.

Because Ian meant the world to him.

Because his chest already felt like a knife was being stabbed into it.

He had assumed the feeling was heartbreak, and it probably was at first, but as a few months passed and the feeling only got stronger, he knew it was something more.

Now, with the bloody petals in his hand, he had his proof that he had the disease - the fatal Hanahaki Disease.

Those who loved those who did not love them in return almost always got it. It would start in the lungs where flowers would begin to grow. Then, as the plants irritated their bodies, the victims would begin to cough up blood and petals. It was then that a decision would have to be made. Let the disease continue and hope that the person who had caused the disease would magically start to love them back or get surgery to cure them of the disease.

Letting it continue would mean letting flowers grow until the person choked on their own blood and petals and was guaranteed to end in death. However, with surgery, the flowers could be removed thus curing the person of the disease, but there was a catch - those who had the disease removed would never be able to love again.

It was usually a tough decision, but for Ben it was simple - he'd let it continue. He didn't want to die, but he couldn't imagine life without love. Even if it killed him, he wanted to be able to feel that amazing, intense feeling. 

He knew that his decision meant that he only had a few weeks to live.

He knew that each day would be more painful than the last.

He knew the last few would be filled with coughing and choking as he struggled to breath.

Now, tossing the petals into the trash and wiping the blood off of his hand, Ben grabbed a pen and paper. He spent several hours writing draft after draft of the same letter and tossing one after another into the trash. With a sigh and a cough, he gave up for the day and curled up in his bed.

As he quietly cried himself to sleep through the pain, he couldn't help but to smile as a thought came to mind. Wouldn't it feel amazing to lay here with Ian holding me? Though, the thought of the other triggered a coughing fit and the fantasy was quickly ruined.

The next few days would go by very similarly. Wake up. Work on the letter. Cry himself to sleep. All the while coughing up more and more rose petals.

It was about a week later that so much happened. That he was finally able to get his thoughts into words. That he was able to write out just how much he truly loved Ian and finish the letter. That he was able to rewrite it in his best handwriting. That he was able to mail it to the man he had fallen for. That he started struggling to breath.

That night, he was afraid to go to sleep. Because he couldn't help but to be afraid that he wouldn't be able to breath well enough to make it to the next day. Because he was scared that he'd die.

He ended up pulling an all nighter. Though, the next day, he had crashed and fallen asleep at his desk. He had woken up in a panic a few hours later as he gasped and struggled to breathe.

By time he had caught his breath enough to calm down, Ben was shaking and holding his hands around his sore throat. He had been terrified that that was going to be the end. Though, as he stared in horror at the first whole flower he'd coughed up, he'd be even more scared to know that was just the first of many attacks.

He quickly found that each and every cough would lead to those horrifying moments of not being able to breath. That the coughing fits now made his head ache and spin. That his vision would go dark and he'd see stars from the lack of air.

As the coughing became more frequent, Ben stopped caring to wipe away the blood that came with each one. By now, he had accepted that he'd always have trails of red coming from each corner of his mouth and dripping from various parts of his bottom lip.

Iron was all he tasted and he didn't dare try to eat or drink anything to get rid of it. Last time he had tried to do so, the pain had made him choke and he ended up coughing so bad that several whole flowers came up.

It had only been four months since the first petals had been coughed out and Ben's breathing had already become shaky and labored. He had gone from giggling to dying in such a short time. 

Blood and petals and roses covered him and his bathroom. The small room had became the limit of his world as hadn't left it in days. His pain was now so intense that even the thought of moving hurt and he knew he'd never be able to make it to the next room.

So, he had settled for curling up on the floor and crying. He cried in pain at what felt like a thousand razor blades going down his throat and a million knives stabbing him in his chest. He cried in sadness as he knew his time was nearly up.

Ben struggled through another coughing fit that left him too drained to fight another anytime soon. He was dizzy and his vision was blurred and the room felt like it was spinning. Blood spilled from his open mouth and he forced himself to breath.

To his horror, Ben felt another coughing fit coming on and knew he wouldn't be able to get through it. He would die here. He took a last look around the room. All he saw was roses - blood and roses.

He hated the roses.

He hated the pain and suffering they caused.

He hated the Hanahaki Disease.

He hated himself for ever confessing.

But he still loved Ian

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

1227 words! Whoop, there's my angst!! Ya guys always request smut so I gotta get my angst in somewhere :P

Hope you enjoyed!

Requests always open!!

~Angel ^-^