➭¹
Namjoon coughed, hands enclosing around the familiar petals. Another cherry blossom seemed to be blooming within him. It was almost as if the branches of the trees were expanding in his chest. He ignored the burn, and put the pretty flower in its place among the rest.
The flowers sat their, among the polaroids of Namjoon and Jeongguk, over time. They highlighted the black and white of each picture, splattering them with color. Every time the other fawned over them, Namjoon had to make up a place where he'd collected them.
"These are so cool!" Jeongguk pointed out, one day.
Namjoon has forgotten that the flowers were there, and initially blanched, thankful that the other's back was to him.
"Oh uh.. those? I picked them up, there outside the library." He waved dismissively, shame bubbling up alongside the next flower.
"They're pretty," Jeongguk commented once more, before they both focused their attention back to the opened books, meant for studying.
—
The next time that the flowers became a discussion, was after the death of a classmate. They called it Hanahaki Disease. Apparently, Yoongi had been blooming sunflowers for so long, apparently his loved one and roommate; found him in the morning, with only a single flower, blocking his airway.
Namjoon thanked the gods that his flowers were small. Though he knew that soon, enough of them at a time would cause him to choke. He was starting to cough them up in the singular digits.
"I can understand why he did it," Jeongguk said, finally.
"Did what?"
"Keep it from Hoseok." Jeongguk leaned back, a sad expression on his face. "I think I'd rather keep it a secret from the person."
"Why wouldn't you just get the surgery?" Namjoon asked, feeling like his chest might cave in.
"And forget them? It'd remove all the branches of love and its memory. That'd be even sadder, don't you think? When the other person finds out, they'd feel worse. You'd feel worse, too. Even if you didn't realize it. You'd wonder why your heart feels so empty, every time that you see the person."
—
The last straw, was when Jeongguk introduced his latest boyfriend to Namjoon. The other was perfect. Tall, handsome and friendly enough to be considered a people person. He figured that at least, he fit one of Jeongguk's types.
Still, when the other discreetly asked him to spend the night away; Namjoon made a decision. He agreed with a tight smile, and packed only the sweater that Jeongguk had gifted him, summers ago when they still cuddled up in his twin sized bed.
He cried to Jimin for hours, coughing up the petals of unshared love. For the first time in years, he took them and threw them away in Jimin's trash. The sadness made his eyes blurry; he only coughed up even more.
"I don't want them anymore." He told Jimin, finally.
"Are you sure?" Jimin asked, eyes filled with worry as he checked around Namjoon for any more of the petals.
"I want them gone, Jimin. I'm tired of feeling like this."
That night, when the anesthesia started to put him to sleep; he pictured that it was Jeongguk holding his hand instead of Jimin. He thought of bunny toothed smiles.
—
Waking up didn't feel any differently, though he couldn't remember his reason for surgery. The doctor simply told him that it was a surgery, necessary for his heart; and that all had been taken care of. He missed the sadness behind Jimin's smiles.
When the other dropped him off at home, he spotted unfamiliar shoes, but didn't say anything. He would have bought them at some point, even if he couldn't remember. Though, the boot style wasn't really for him, he could see himself using them for aesthetic purposes.
It doesn't occur to him that something is off, until he opens the door to his room and the sight of another male in there, surprises him. The doe eyed man is crying, wiping frantically at his face.
"Namjoon. Namjoon, tell me it isn't true." The other pried, cheeks flushed and voice shaky.
Namjoon wonders who this is, and if he knows that he's beautiful. He feels something bloom in his chest.
But...
"I'm sorry.. who are you?"
That makes the other really break down, sobbing more incoherent stuff as Namjoon watches with wide eyes. And then he takes in the wall to his left. There are pictures of the two of them, framed by delicately glued cherry blossoms.
He still doesn't understand.
He hears a cough to his left, and watches in horror as the other male holds open a palm. There, is a single cherry blossom.
Something in him, aches.
"You should get that removed," he tells the other, worried that this collection from the boy will only get worse.
"I could never." Bunny teeth, oddly familiar. "I could never give up the idea of love with them. I'd feel so empty."
Namjoon feels that way, too. He turns back to the pictures, confused at the way that something feels as if it's blooming in his chest.
"Why do I feel empty?" He asks, softly.
"Because you gave up," the man whispered, sadly.
Namjoon turned to him, eyes sad and searching. "Did I... did I give up on you?" He asks, finally. Glancing down at the cherry blossom in the others hand, he thinks he knows the answer.
"We never began."
—
Jeongguk smiles widely, as Namjoon pointed at another picture, from where they were curled up. "What's the story behind that one."
He asks, pointing to a picture that is far above the rest; unlike the others, it's alone, as opposed to a row.
"I think that's your first flower." Jeongguk whispered softly, a little sad as he looks at the picture.
"How old were we?" Namjoon asked, just as quietly.
"You were 11. I was 9." Jeongguk coughs again, hands instinctively coming up.
There's no flower. He looks at Namjoon.
"Jeongguk."
