The Hanahaki Series : BTS

Peonies : ksj

Here Hanahaki is an unfamiliar phenomenon, not everyone knows of its existence.

You remembered the very instant you had felt it beginning. It had been the new employee's third day on the job and you were helping train him. He was leaning in close to watch what you were doing as you folded the napkin and when you glanced up to see if he got it you were surprised at how close his face was to yours.

His beautiful face. With his smooth caramel skin and his big, bright eyes under striking dark brows. His hair was dyed a soft pink and his lips - they were rosy and full and they looked so soft and perfect. He glanced up and your eyes met. And when you drew in your next breath you felt a tickle deep in your chest, your air snagging for the briefest moment.

He smiled, his pretty eyes squinting just a bit and his perfect lips turning up at the corners. You inhaled. There was that tiny tickle again in your lung but you just cleared your throat and swallowed and averted your eyes, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks as you blinked quickly.

But the tickle didn't go away. Whenever you looked at him or thought about him for the rest of the day it was like your lung itched from the inside, that little tickle down in the bottom of it bothering you. But just a bit. It was only faintly uncomfortable.

Until the next week. You had tried not to think about him during the two days you had off, but when you were tying on your apron and he walked into the restaurant - his pink hair pushed back off his forehead and his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his broad shoulders stretching his shirt tightly across his chest - the tickle had gotten stronger. Had turned into a catch in your lung and when you inhaled you broke into a sudden coughing fit. You covered your mouth as you coughed and turned around, getting your airway clear and shaking your head.

You had just gotten your breath when you felt a hand patting your back and you glanced up, your eyes watering a bit to see him looking down at you, his perfect features wrinkled in concern.

"Are you alright?" He asked. You felt the urge to cough again as you looked at him, stronger this time. You couldn't get your breath. You waved him off as you coughed into your hand, the catch in your lung seeming to get more intrusive. You quickly stepped away from him and hurried down the hall toward the bathroom where you clutched the sink, leaning over it and coughing harder. You felt a fluttering in your lung and then something rose in your throat and you gagged, spitting it into your hand.

It was a single, pale pink flower petal.

That was a month ago and your symptoms had been worsening ever since. If he so much as smiled at you in the middle of a shift you found yourself dashing to the bathroom, your hand clamped over your mouth as your lungs fluttered, the tickle rising in your throat and blocking your airflow. As soon as you got into the bathroom you would lean over the sink and cough violently, sucking in sharp breaths once your airway was cleared and spitting pink petals into the basin.