alusion (because the world needed it)

gladiolus

brightclaws
category: oneshot
word count: 1100

When it had first happened, it was a pain he'd never felt.  Something, tearing at his chest from the inside, his lungs desperately coughing, hacking it up.  It was a struggle to breath, and he'd staggered to a tree for balance as he doubled over, shoulders shaking from his coughs, eyes squeezed painfully shut.

When he'd finally opened them after the coughing fit was done, it was the burgundy he saw first, almost looking of a deep purple, speckles of red--blood--on the petals.  Gladiolus flowers, burgundy petals.

At first, he hadn't thought it was from him.  Since when do people get sick--was he even sick?--and hack out flowers?  It was an absurd idea.  Preposterous, one Gusion refused to believe in.

It couldn't have been him.

And, yet, as the days continued, it only grew worse, more frequent.

Always after seeing Alucard.

Weeks, he dealt with it.  It never went away.  He didn't know how to stop it and, Creator, it hurt, it hurt so fucking bad.  His chest was aching, throat raw, voice rasped.  Would anyone believe him if Gusion told them?  Who knew of such a disease?  If he, a Paxley, didn't know, then surely nobody else would.  They'd believe him crazy, and he nearly thought he was himself.

Perhaps if he didn't see Alucard, it would stop.

Gusion didn't come out of his room that day, not even venturing into the kitchen or living room.  He knew he was an ass for not telling Alucard he was going to skip out on their plans, but he was desperate.  It was a last minute decision, the sheer need to make whatever the fuck thid was stop--his bedroom floor was ridden with these flowers, these petals, too many for him to clean up.  Gusion reasoned he'd have time to once this.. whatever this fucked up ailment was had finished taking its course on his body.  A time he hoped was today, when he didn't see Alucard.

Gusion was wrong.

If anything, it was worse.

A few coughs had turned into dry wretching, gladiolus petals streaming from his open mouth, thin lines of blood dripping down his lips.  Pain seared through his chest, and he blindly fell down onto his knees, clawing at his throat.  Once he had considered the purple color one of his favorites, bjt now?  He hated it.  It sickened him, almost more than whatever ailment he had.  His own coughs shrouded his hearing, the horrible paon seemingly the only thing he could feel, never-ending, perpetual, and-

Vaguely, he felt a far off sensation on his shoulder, a distant voice calling out his name.  As he struggled for breath, more petals only fell past his lips, a vomit of purple burgundy that seemed to be killing him.  Gusion didn't know how long it lasted, or what was supporting him as the petals were torn from his lungs, his body violently shaking as it tried to purify himself to seemingly no avail.  He felt so weak.  He couldn't fight it off, this pain, the forever ache.

Finally, though, it died down, and he leaned heavily on whatever was supporting him, trembling badly as his senses starting to come back.  He refused, though, to open his eyes.  He kept them squeezed shut, not wanting to see more of what had come past his lips.

"..Gusion?"

The pain in his chest doubled.

He squeezed into himself, drawing his knees up to his chest, trying to ignore the feeling of the alien arms wrapped around him.

"Why didn't you tell me?"  The question was hoarse, sounded.. hurt.

Alucard had no reason to feel hurt.

"Who would believe that I was coughing up petals?"  Gusion answered, the words shooting angerly from his lips, lips where petals had fallen from.

"People that know of the Hanahaki, you fucking dumbass!"  Alucard's response was even angrier, his grip on Gusion growing tighter, so much so that it hurt.  Not as much as the pain in his chest, though.  Not as much as that.

Gusion was silent for a bit, tensed up and trying not to let the tears fall from his eyes.  "..What's that?"

It was Alucard's turn to be silent, and when he spoke, his words were quiet.  "The disease of one-sided love."

"Oh."

It made sense to Gusion, now.

It all made sense.

Vaguely, he remembered being taught as a young child: the sickness made of love, bringing death or the destruction of all feelings and memories of the one loved.

"Who-"

"You."

Gusion's cut off was a little more than a whisper, a confession that was killing him.  Alucard froze, and Gusion heard his breath hitch.

Gusion finally opened his eyes, blinking up at Alucard, warm teardrops starting to roll down his cheeks.

"Gusion.."

He hated how much he loved hearing Alucard say his name.

"I can't.  You know I can't love you back, I can't-"  Alucard cut himself off this time, silently watching the tears rolling down Gusion's face.  Once more, to himself, he hoarsely whispered out, "I can't love you."

Afraid, fear.  Gusion knew it, knew why, knew all of it.  Alucard had told him.

"Please."  Gusion breathed, gulping.  "Please."

Alucard shook his head, his grip on Gusion lightening.  "I can't.  We need to get you to Rafaela, and she'll-"

"No."  Gusion's voice trembled, but, with it, there was strength.  "I refuse.  I refuse to forget you."

"Gusion, we're talking about your life-"

"If you cared about my life then you'd stop fearing love!"  Gusion cried out, tears falling more frequent, more insistent.  Then, the pain hit him again, and he leaned forward, forehead on Alucard's chest as he coughed, the purple petals drifting down, down, down.

"Gusion, I don't think you have much-"

"Then choose!"  It was the loudest he'd been in days, the two words themselves barely able to have been stretched out between coughs.  The pain was overwhelming, and the petals truly didn't seem like they'd ever stop.

"I can't."

It only hurt worse, more.  The worst pain had ever felt.  The pain usually subsided weakly after his coughing, but, this time, it didn't.  It only grew worse as Gusion gasped for breath, his intake seeming to be constricted by something that wouldn't come out.  Everything seemed so numb except for the pain.  He couldn't move.  It hurt.  Everything hurt.  Unconsciousness, darkness--it seemed to be creeping in, uncontrollable.  Gusion couldn't stop it, couldn't fight it.  So with the last bit of energy he had within him, he rasped out, "I love you, Alucard."

The pain subsided, and with it, nothingness.