THE HANANAKI DISEASE
The Hanahaki Disease is an illness where flowers will grow in the patient's lungs. They will throw up the petals and sometimes even the flowers as the body works to remove the foreign objects to avoid asphyxiation. This disease stems from feelings of unrequited love and can be extraordinarily painful for the patient. There is no specific flower for the disease, but it will either be the love interest's favourite type of flower or their favourite colour as a flower.
One of the only ways for the disease to 'disappear' is if the patient confesses and the love interest returns the feelings; however it must be real love and cannot be remedied by friendship or lies. The infection can also be removed through surgery - although the feelings and memories of the love interest will disappear along with the petals. If neither option is taken, or the feeling is not returned in time, then the patient's lungs will fill up with flowers and they will eventually suffocate.
Russia slammed his book shut, startling a few of the other students lounging in the library. He pushed himself out of his chair and plucked the book off the table, traversing the library to return it to its bookshelf.
God he was really in deep. Of all the people to have a crush on, why him? He was way out of Russia's league - and a guy no less.
Russia scoffed when he thought about them being together. The Jock and The Loner. The perfect pair. Yeah right.
People like that only get together on TV or in movies or fanfics or something equally as stupid and unrealistic. There was no way in hell they could ever be together.
With that thought, Russia felt a familiar pain beginning to form in his throat as he slid the book into place on its shelf. His eyes widened and he stumbled out of the isle, coughing slightly into his palm as an overwhelming stinging began to climb up his trachea. He booked it out the library door, ignoring the annoyed and confused glances he recived as he tried to remember where the hell the nearest bathroom was. Tears sprung to the corner of his eyes as the stinging only worsened, and he could feel his throat tearing up from the inside.
With some luck he located the men's bathroom and dashed into a stall, barely able to lock it before a hacking cough sent him lunging for the toilet bowl.
After a few agonising moments of choking and gasping and clawing at his own throat, the torture ended as abruptly as it came, leaving him with nothing but a sore throat and a bloody toilet bowl.
Russia's lip quivered as he stared blankly at the vibrant red flora stained with his own scarlet blood. There were plenty of petals and one whole flower, stem and all. Just looking at it reminded Russia of the dwindling ache in his throat as he imagined how the sharp throns sliced through his flesh and scarred his insides.
Roses.
Why of all the millions of flowers that existed did it have to be roses?
Russia slumped on his knees and leant onto the stall wall, shaking violently and crying. He didn't even realise he was crying until the warm salty liquid dripped onto his bloodstained hands.
If what the book said was true, he would either have to confess to America, the most popular and wanted guy in the school, or permanently erase all the memories tied to him.
Russia winced - neither of those sounded particularly appealing.
But instead of staying crumpled up on the ground, Russia staggered to his feet and swallowed hard, ignoring the sharp sting that came with his decision. He flushed the toilet and put down the seat, opening the stall door and dunking his bloodied hands under the cool tap water. He glanced upward at his own reflection in the dirty bathroom mirror and noticed instantly the red lacing his eyes and the blood on his shirt.
YOU ARE READING
Rusame Oneshots :|: DISCONTINUED
RomanceOk so this was a book of oneshots I wrote a million years ago and then abandoned because I left the fandom. Some of these are unfinished and some are literally just plans or prompts. I figured I'd publish them because like. I might as well! (Credit...
