What I Couldn't Tell You | Bokuaka

Chapter 1

Hanahaki Disease
An illness born from unrequited love, where the patient's throat will fill up with flowers, they will then proceed to throw, and cough up the petals, (sometimes even the flowers). One of the only ways for the disease to 'disappear' is if, the said person returns the feeling (it can't be resolved with friendship, it has to be genuine feelings of love). The infection can also be removed through surgery, though the feelings disappear along with the petals. If they choose nether options, or the feeling is not returned in time, then the patient's lungs will fill up with flowers, and will eventually suffocate.

The first time Keiji heard about it, he was seven. Young, naïve, and unknowing to some of the cruelties love could cause.
It was a rainy day in Tokyo, meaning he couldn't go out to play at the park. Instead, he sat on the floor playing with some of his toys. His grandmother sat on her armchair, knitting a scarf for her grandson. His parents had gone out about an hour ago. Keiji had heard them talking about visiting the neighbor's daughter, who had caught some strange disease. He couldn't remember the name correctly; he only knew it had to do with flowers.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, the drizzle turning into a storm. Keiji looked out the window, the dark clouds covered the whole sky, obscuring everything. He looked at his grandma, concentrated as she hummed a random tune.
"Nana," he called out hesitantly, "where did mom and dad go?"
"To the hospital dear," she said without adverting her gaze, "they went to visit someone."
"I heard them talking," he admitted bashfully, aware that he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop, "they were saying something about a disease, the Hanabako, Hana- "
"The Hanahaki disease?" his grandmother suggested a small but knowing smile on her face.
"Yes! What is that?" he asked curiously. She put her knitting supplies aside, patting her legs for the boy to climb onto. Keiji didn't hesitate to run over to his grandmother. He wiggled around in her lap, leaning against her for further comfort.
"You know what love is don't you dear?" she said asked the boy. Keiji nodded, confusion clear on his face. "Love should be mutual, however, there are times when your love for someone isn't reciprocated," her grandson furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"Reciprocated?" Keiji asked, not understanding the word.
"It's when your feelings aren't returned," she replied, stroking a hand through his hair, "when someone doesn't love you back."
"But what happens if someone doesn't love you back?" Keiji inquired, "do you get the Hanahaki disease?"
"Exactly," she said, "it's a disease where you cough up flowers." Her hand dropped from the boy's hair, opting to wrap them around him in a small hug.
"Flowers?"
"Yes, flowers," she confirmed, "your lungs fill up with your loved one's favorite flower, you cough them up until they block your airways and choke you. You die of unrequited love."
Keiji frowned, he didn't like how that sounded.
"Does it have a cure?" he questioned, hands fidgeting in his lap. It didn't seem fair, how could someone die from loving another person too much?
"It does," she answered, "either your love is reciprocated or you get a surgery. However, you'll never be able to love that person again."
Keiji nodded understanding, he looked at his grandma and hugged her, tight.
"I hope I never get the Hanahaki disease nana."
"I hope so too, my dear." She said hugging him back, "I really do."

☆☆☆
10 years later

"AKAASHI!"
Keiji slightly flinched, he really should be used to Bokuto's loud voice at this point, with the boy shouting his name more often than not, he really should. The thing is, he isn't, because despite having spent time with him throughout his first year of high school, Keiji can't find himself to be completely comfortable around the other boy. He often blamed it on his general awkwardness around people, yet he knew it was more than that. Acknowledging those facts, however, was another story.
"Yes, Bokuto-san?" Keiji asked turning around. The other boy beamed at him.
"Can you stay later after practice to help me with my spikes?" Bokuto asked clasping his hands together in a hopeful stance, "please? The match is in three days and I really want to make sure I'm ready."
Keiji sighed, part of him was tired and the idea of taking a bath and going to sleep sounded really tempting. However, the other part of him, the bigger one, couldn't resist his captain's requests. It wasn't like Bokuto even needed the extra practice, judging by how their last days' training had gone, the spiker seemed to be in top form (Keiji really hoped so). Despite that, Bokuto was still his friend and Keiji couldn't find it within himself to throw away the extra minutes spent with the older boy.
"Fine, but not too long," Keiji said giving Bokuto a stern look. The other boy only smiled wide.
"YES! You're the best Akaashi!" he exclaimed giving Keiji a quick hug before rushing to set back the net.
Keiji only stood there frozen. He felt heat creep up his face, settling on a soft pink blush on his cheeks. He heard his heartbeat loudly on his ears, hammering against his chest. He knew what that meant, even so, just like each time something similar happened, he decided to ignore it. It wasn't something he could afford to dwell on.
"Akaashi!" Bokuto shouted from the court, "c'mon let's practice!"
Keiji took a deep breath, closing his eyes to allow his heartbeat to even out. He gulped loudly, trying to untangle the knot in his throat. He turned around and walked towards where Bokuto had the ball cart, holding a ball between his hands. He smiled at Keiji, moving into position so he could spike. They felt into routine easily, one where Keiji would toss, and Bokuto would spike. His mind was clear, with no homework to worry about or upcoming exams, and especially, not growing feelings for a certain owl-haired captain.

Word count 1021