i decided to make an art book. kill me.

This art has a story along with it

Yes, I'm making a one-shot with this drawing. Yes, I know that's stupid. But I made it anyways. Let's get on with the story so I can get back to writing/texting my friend. 

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Jake coughed as he finished throwing up. Third time this week. He wanted to think of this as a sickness, and it was, but it wasn't normal. Normal sickness is throwing up actual vomit. No, this sickness was different. He was throwing up...petals.

Blood glistened from the small pile of flowers and petals. The mixture of blues on the flowers was pretty. If it weren't for the fact that he threw them up, he would've actually liked them. He felt like he just took part in a sand-drinking race.

He got up and grabbed his gun. You may or may not be asking where his patrol crew was at. Well, his crew was probably at camp already. He had told them to go ahead without him. He knew that it was an idiotic move but he couldn't risk anyone finding out about his 'sickness'. Jake walked back to camp in the uneasy silence he'd left himself in.

Jake was finally back at camp. It was just as busy and bustling as he'd left it. He didn't really care about that, though. He was trying to think of ways this could've happened. Did he eat any plant seeds lately? No. Who the hell eats plant seeds straight up anyways? Did he mess with anyone that had practiced in the occult? He was sure that there was no one in the occult there so he scratched that off the list. Some mystical force controlling his every action? Maybe. Then his mind drifted somewhere it hadn't been in years. Hanahaki disease.

That seemed impossible though. Hanahaki was supposed to be fictional. Why was this happening in real life? And since when did Hanahaki exist in real life terms? Maybe the mystical force had something to do with this. He couldn't tell. All he knew was that he felt a bit faint. Like he was going to fall over at any minute. He walked over to his sleeping bag in the boys area (meaning pretty much the whole downstairs/basement of the house they used as camp) and laid down in it. He needed time to think. Who was the person he seemed to be pining after?

Jake started thinking of each person in his group. He either didn't feel any romantic feeling towards them or felt nothing at all. Then he decided to think of our other dearest protag—I mean Canada. He did feel weird around him a lot. Not in a mean way. Like a 'is it hot in here or is it just me?' way. Y'know, the 'butterflies in my stomach, heartbeat is getting faster, face is the literal definition of hot.' way.

He could feel the petal-bile-shit rising again. Shit. It was Canada. Goddamn these feelings.

Jake just sat there, thinking about what he could do. There were no experienced doctors in their group so he couldn't get the flowers removed. He didn't want to confess to Can, considering the fact that he might not love him back. If that happened, he'd probably throw up the rest of the petals and die right then and then, scarring his crush for life. Maybe he should just let this happen. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad. It would save him from heartbreak and humiliation. But what if Can did love him back? It was a possibility. A possibility that seemed impossible. And what about his sister? He was all she had. Rebeca would probably die if she found out that he was dead. She would probably even kill Can if she found out that he was in love with him and he rejected him. And then die.

He groaned from all of the stress that was being put on him. He could A) confess his love to Can and possibly get rejected, B) try and find a skilled enough nurse to perform the surgery, even though he'd be putting himself at risk of death, or C) let himself die. All of the options sounded bad. He could die from either one of them. Especially option C. So he decided to sleep on it.

It had been a few days since he had slept on it. His Hanahaki was getting worse. He had been throwing up more petals at this point and was ferociously close to dying. He could feel himself get progressively sicker. Now they were in yet another battle with the Naraks. The race whose queen possessed him and made him into a monster. Everyone was afraid of him now. Now that he looks back on it, it did seem like the people he took with him on patrol were anxious to leave.

Suddenly, he could feel the petal-bile rising. Right now? In the middle of a battle? Yes. Yes indeed. The sounds of shooting and screams now sounded very watery. Like the people making the sounds were walking past him while screaming. He could feel himself getting weaker. This was the end for him.

His knees hit the ground with a small crunch of the gravel. He was now on his hands and knees, puking out everything in his body, petals and all. There was so much blood. And so many flowers. He almost felt at peace. Despite his peaceful feeling, his body was letting on that he was in a lot of pain. Tears flooded down his cheeks in thick lines and he could feel something poking at his eye. Yep. This was definitely the end.

He could feel someone drag him into cover. They started saying things. He couldn't really hear them. There were only a few things he could make out.

"I'm so sorry...I should've told you sooner...I love you..." The darkness finally started taking over and Jake fell into a sleep that no love could ever fix.

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Done. Did you enjoy it? Probably not. Or you did. I cant tell. I'm not watching your every move. Unfortunately. Welp, see ya.