Pannacotta Fugo x Reader One-shots

[56] take me, part 1.

Hi, how is everyone doing today?
I hope you're all doing well because the cursed hanahaki disease is back. 
Now, the hanahaki in 'can't help it.' still giving me chills and I sometimes go back to read it because- why the freaking not? I was planning for a happy ending for that but, satan got me, I guess. 

Thank you for SwordofAwsomeness for giving me the opportunity to write hanahaki again. I'm super hyped and did my best to write this. I'm dedicating this one to you, cheers. 
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Fugo cleared his throat, uncomfortably shifting on the couch in his small private library. He was left alone on the beautiful Sunday evening bathed in sunlight striking from the windows. Only two pages left and he coughed as his eyebrows tucked together. The thing couldn't wait just like Fugo couldn't hold it any longer.

He covered his mouth with his left hand before proceed to cough. The cough keeps going, longer than he expected. He feels like burning, throat hurting like someone just pouring acid on it, tears almost falling from their place. One hand won't be enough this time that Fugo throw away the book from his hand to cover his mouth again. He's bending forward to his knees, coughing for dear life as he tried to not being so loud.

"Merda!" Fugo breathed out, gasping with closed eyes as he's leaning back for more oxygen. Hands clenched, he clicked his tongue upon the delicate things in his hands. When he opened his eyes again, he finds the same thing. They were as red as blood, but they are not. On the contrary, they are soft and fragrant. They are flower petals. Beautifully sickening at this point.

Red carnation, the flower of admiration, affection, and love.

The air is stirring with a thick fragrant aroma. The smells seeping out of his mouth, it will stay like that for a minute or so. Despite the pleasant aroma, Fugo only wants to throw up because of it. Even after six months of living like a walking garden, he could never get used to this.

"Fugo, you won't believe this!"

He jolted, shoving down all the petals to his pockets. "[y/n]? Sorry, I didn't see you coming home. Come in here." There, he saw you already standing by the door, as fluffy and as delicate as cotton candy. All smiling and energetic. Looking pretty despite the blood smearing on your cheeks.

"You see," you started, marching to sit beside him. "I can drive now! I got separated from Giorno and had to chase them. I don't know what was I thinking, but I got in the car and started driving!"

Fugo chuckled lightly. From the way you excitedly telling him the story to how your eyes light up as your smile stayed still, he finds them all very endearing. "Oh? You did it. You can do it if you try after all."

"It was hard, you know? I had to remember how you were driving. All I do was only do what you do usually."

"Me?"

"Yes, you! You're the one who drives the most and I happened to often sit beside you, enough to see what are you doing."

"I see, you're a quick learner," Fugo complimented, caressing your hair as a reward. "Still, that was dangerous. You should take me on your next mission. I won't let that happen."

"I'll ask Bucciarati when the time comes." Fugo retreated his hand, nodding in agreement. Your next lines almost startled him to death. It's not exaggerating, considering how close your face to his. "By the way, you smell just like that time. Is this perfume or your secret shampoo? You smelled like this when you came out of the bathroom that night."

"You're too close," Fugo reminded, making you retreat, but still has eyes fixed on him. "Well, um, this is my perfume..."

"You choose the right fragrance," you winked, "whatever the name, this scents suits you really well. I like it."

"Do you think so?" Fugo smiled, more like forcing it to not appearing in pain. "I'm glad you like it." How ironic. How pitiful. How hurt it is that his lungs start to feel like they're burning again. He needs to cough really bad. He doesn't want to let you go. He wants you. It's burning him inside out. "Why don't you go take a shower, [y/n]? I'll prepare you dinner."

"I almost forgot!" You stood up in hurry, glancing at him. "I promised my boyfriend to eat dinner with him tonight. Thanks for reminding me, Fugo. I'll see you later."

With that, you dashed out of the room. Fugo wasn't sure if he should be relieved or not. He's now falling onto the floor, coughing like crazy, the petals were all mixing with tears. Biting his hand, he could only hope for this to stop soon. The reality hits him hard once again. He's the one who was reminded to know his place.

No matter how much he wanted to be by your side, he could never. Was it his fault that he never confessed after in love with you for months? He wasn't confident. You're the garden while he's nothing but a pebble. The courage still wouldn't come even after he started coughing petals six months ago.

It was only a small cough. Day by day, the coughs grew more rigid, and eventually, petals came out. Fugo knew immediately what was happening, he wasn't dense. He knew the red carnation, he knew the meaning, and he knew only one person who deserves his love.

No one knows about that but him. Fugo keeps it as his secret. It hurts, sure, you being uncomfortable will hurt more though. So, he decided. It wasn't so bad until three months ago you declared to everyone that you had a boyfriend. It was devastating. He had the worst cough at that time and since that, the petal cough developed more often. Along with the fragrant aroma. 

"Do it for her," he whispered to himself amidst the chaos. "You can't keep being like this. What if someone finds out?"

Fugo coughed away along his reminding for himself. His hands were supporting his body, kneeling on the floor with closed eyes. Cleaning it will be a hassle, Fugo did think about that. It's just that he wasn't ready to see the petals floating on his blood when he opened his eyes. No wonder it tasted disgusting. 

Sat on the bed, Fugo's pinching the bridge of his temples. The clock ticking for the sake of telling him it's way past midnight left unheard. Uneven breathe, he's choking on the throat. Nothing left his lips other than warm air, grunt, and coughing. Shall it be hours since the bloody cough, the pain stayed. It won't let him sleep or even just a brief of lying down.

To not dwell too much on the pain, he's thinking. Not the best way to cope but at least, he now knows that he's going to die sooner or later. There was blood, and now he's sure something is tangling on his lungs. Why would he need to breathe anyway? His breath has been taken by you.

Fugo closed his eyes, leaning backward with hands supporting him. It was all from a simple admiration. He liked how you perceive your life, refuse to complain with no intent to give up. The rest is history. Pretty much messed up that he ended up like this but no regret.

"I love you and let me be.., my love."

It was the limit of what he could do. His body bounced forward, throwing up the familiar red petals. Blood is pouring along as he gagged almost every second. Sweating bullets and tears falling, he never knows the metallic smell of blood could complement the scent from the petals. The night is going to be very long.