Straight? Sorry I'm Gay [bl]

Arc 1.5: Love Confession At Death's Door

"Please wake up."

A week had passed since the incident. This week felt like it was eternity for the young crown prince. There were no tears left to cry.

All he could do was hope.

Like his beloved tutor asked of him.

The gorgeous male was sickly pale. His lips a crimson red contrasting to his face. The larger males hand squeezed the frail and weaker one. His eyes had yet to open. Only his weak breathing could be heard.

Little did he know what was going on in his tutor's mind.

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"System 000. How long should I keep this up. It's exhausting acting like a sick person."

[Host, I could provide you with the antidote at a discount!]

"No thanks. I'll keep this up for awhile longer or else it would be suspicious"

[Your so *sniff* brave host. Stay strong! (●*∩_∩*●)]

Nian gave a virtual pat to his adorable system before sighing and sinking deeper into the silk sheets.

His mind trailing to a certain memory when they were older as he stare at the set of flowers to the side of him. They were Poppies. He had seen them being brought in buy a servant when Li was on duty.

He closed his eyes. Reminiscing at the scene. A soft smile painting it's way onto his features.

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The boy lay on his stomach, watching the tiny, red flowers.

"What are they?" he'd asked his tutor at one point. He'd never seen them before, or at least never noticed. He pocked at the flower in which gently swayed within the breeze

"These are what are known as poppies."

"Why are they here?"

The child tilted his head cutely. Putting a finger to his lips contemplating.

This earned a chuckle from the tutor.

"Well obviously because they flourish in this weather."

He poked the child's head. Both of them laughing.

"I just didn't expect them to grow here. The servants would probably thought of it as a weed."

"What is going inside of that little brain of yours!?"

"Nothing. Haha!"

"Well these flowers are used for war."

"War? Are they war flowers."

He look confuzzled at this. Inspecting the flower. Before pointing at this. His eyes saying 'this harmless little thing?'

"Silly child."

Jazz held the flower in her fingertips so that it did not touch his scuffed palms. How was it that in all this chaos this delicate bloom should survive? It's stem was the hue of spring grass and it's brilliant red petals so thin that even the air, made dim by the plumes of debris and smoke, could shine through them; bestowing an unearthly glow. 

The smile that had played at the corners of his lips cracked into a sad smile. This flower, while reaching for the sun was a living corpse, it was alive and dead. It was a symbolism or pleasure but was used to pray for the fallen one.

The child stared at his tutor's saddened face frowning.

"Well this small fragile flower means pleasure. But also hails the fallen ones. From at least where I am from."