AN: This fanfiction was based on a fictional disease called the hanahaki disease in where a victim of love regurgitates flower petals until their loved one confesses to them or they die. WARNING: character death and Femslash. If any of those topics are a sensitive issue for you- do not read.

Hiroko had never considered herself the monogamous type. So, when her then-boyfriend had turned, sinking to one knee, Hiroko found bile rising up in her stomach. His ill worded proposal had her biting back a scathing retort and his exaggerated pose made her want to cry. Even so, she accepted, wordlessly plucking the ring out of his grasp and fitting it to her finger. She knew the chances of her, a musician, a woman, surviving in the cut-throat economy of Japan were slim unless she acquired outside aid. Besides, her father would have approved. She could just barely remember him. He was a tall lanky businessman; the years had not yet hardened him. People often said she had his eyes, his nose, but best of all his laugh. It was loud and rambunctious; nothing he ever did was half-hearted. Yes, Hiroko was inherently glad to of inherited that. But she had been laughing a lot less lately-something Saki Noto seemed to realized of late.

Who was Saki Noto? Hiroko often wondered that herself. In school, there had been an instant enmity between them. For all of Hiroko's flamboyant easy-to-love charm, Saki had not found her to enduring, rather gaudy and superfluous. Hiroko, in turn, had resented the fact Saki seemed to dislike her. Their rivalry had gone on for a good two years before circumstance brought them together. Forced to cooperate on a composition, the other woman had begrudgingly admitted Hiroko's talents were stellar. She took a rare liking to her and a mutual understanding blossomed between them. Over time that mutual understanding had morphed into liking which had morphed into friendship which had morphed into...more?

"Hiroko~"

Saki's even-toned drawl brought her back to the real world. An untouched cup of coffee sat next to her on the desk. Other than that the room was barren. Saki collapsed onto the floor. She wiped her forehead and glanced up at the woman on the chair.

" Next time Takahiko decides to skip out of town I'm going with him. This whole moving process has been God awful. Give me a hand with the couch?"

Hiroko fumbled with the lid of the coffee cup for a moment before standing and offering it to her friend. "Here. You need it more than I do today"

Saki shot the woman a grateful smile and accepted the cup. While Saki finished off the coffee, Hiroko moseyed outside to inspect the couch. The gray worn out leather seating was wrapped in plastic. Gingerly, Hiroko patted the armrest. She remembered The last conversation they had on this couch. The conversation had conspired only a few months ago. Indeed, Saki Noto, pianist extraordinaire was now formally engaged to Takahiko Arima. Around that time Hiroko's neighbors had moved out. The soon-to-be-Arima had taken one look at the house and snatched it off the market. And Saki was happy, truly happy with the engagement. There was nothing Hiroko could say. The other woman joined Hiroko at the adjacent end of the couch.

"Ready? One...two...three...lift!"

And all too soon they were married. Hiroko sought little solace in the fact they were now neighbors. She remembered Saki bathed in ethereal light, her pale face a mask of uncertainty.

"Don't worry" Hiroko smiled as she combed out the other woman's tresses. "Takahiko loves you. You two will make a wonderful couple."

And she'd meant it, but still the sick in her stomach refused to settle. Hiroko swallowed hard and set the veil on top of the other woman's head. Her hands drifted down to the other woman's slim shoulders where they rested timidly. Saki met her eyes through the mirror.

"You're right" Her trembling lip was only dismissed by the set of her jaw. "I'm ready"

No more than an hour after the ceremony had started, Hiroko coughed up a single cherry blossom. Her retching was not noticed by the many guests scattered around the pavilion. She leaned weakly against the railing of the outdoor venue. It was a spring wedding. Hiroko thought the night air was especially warm. The moon's gentle blanket had already encased the sky. String lights and lanterns glittered like stars illuminating the dancefloor in a warm glow. Out of the guests that had attended, Hiroko though she knew about 200 of them. Those were classmates, old friends, and teachers from the piano academy. She was just about to approach a young man whom she remembered to be quite energetic when a hand pulled her back towards the edge. She turned to stare into Saki's brilliant blue eyes. Her brow was furrowed and the porcelain-like makeup on her face made the frown seem rather out of place.

"Is everything okay Hiroko?"

Although the worry in Saki's voice was true Hiroko knew there wasn't much distress in her mind. The elation in her voice was too apparent. Hiroko knew Takahiko was somewhere around, presumably searching for his newly made wife. She brushed away the other woman's concerns.

"Oh, I'll be fine. Just thinking is all...what are you doing sulking out here with me? This is your wedding! The happiest day of your life!"

From the other side of the venue, Hiroko could see Takahiko slowly making his way towards them. She took the bride's hands and held them tenderly in her own.

"Don't you worry about me. This is it Saki Arima, the day you've been planning for all these months. Now, go. Mr. Right is looking for you and you have better company to entertain than me." She gave the woman a gentle push

Saki didn't spare her a second glance. Midnight was fast approaching when Hiroko took her leave. The marriage car had been gone no sooner than five minutes when she vanished. That night, before bed, Hiroko spit up three more petals. Her own husband was already sound asleep. Quietly the woman slipped out of bed cupping the petals in her hand and made her way to the bathroom. She placed them inside a crystal jar that resided on the top shelf of her medicine cabinet. Hiroko still wasn't sure if she were dreaming. Only after she'd closed and locked the bathroom door securely did she allow herself to weep. It would be months before another blossom would touch her lips.

The months came and passed in a blur and Hiroko had forgotten all about the Sakura blossoms. It was winter by the time the pink petals made themselves known again. As life would have it, both their husbands traveled a great deal. Work took them everywhere around the country and often times out of it.

It was one of those sleepless nights Hiroko found she could always remember. Those nights her bed was much too big and the duvet instead of being comforting was suffocating, holding her hostage under layers of thick fabric. She felt the familiar dip of the bed and half wondered if she'd sweated herself to insanity.

"Love?" she mumbled turning around in the bed. But she knew that wasn't right. The person on the other end was much too light to be her husband.

"It's me" Saki's voice was thick from sleep.

Hiroko was suddenly wide awake. She sat up on the bed feeling very self-conscience of the thin camisole she sported. The other woman sensed her hesitation.

"Please. It isn't right without someone else"

"I haven't been sleeping either" Hiroko admitted although it was not for the same reason. Against her better judgment, she let her oldest friend stay the night.

That morning before sunrise Hiroko bolted for the bathroom wretching up a fistful of cherry blossoms. She stared at them incredulously as her world spun. The pianist turned and promptly hurled last night's dinner into the toilet.

Saki's presence was sorely missed the next night. Hiroko didn't sleep at all. She sat at her kitchen table staring down at the jar of cherry blossoms. The only thing she could feel was the other woman's back pressed firmly against her own. A memory she couldn't seem to shake. Her breathing was erratic, heart hammering wildly in her chest. She blinked, forcing her dilated pupils to focus. Hiroko knew the signs of lust quite well. As a player in her late teens and early twenties, she'd had plenty experience with mutual attraction. This was an entirely different situation.

Saki was back the next night and the next and the next. And Hiroko was awake before sunrise. The jar of petals grew. The two settled into somewhat of a routine. Saki never stayed for breakfast. Hiroko never pushed her luck. This went on for a few months. One day, after a particular argument she caught a glimpse of guilt in the other woman's withering glare. Hiroko was taken aback.

It wasn't like they were doing anything.

But Saki did not come back again.

By February Takahiko had returned and by April Saki was pregnant. Pregnant, the word tasted sour on her lips but one glance into Saki's overbearingly happy eyes pushed those feelings aside.

"Ohmygod Saki, that's amazing! How far.."

"Five weeks" the other woman supplied coming in to hug her best friend. And everything was right in the world if only for a little while.

For a few months, Hiroko was kept busy with preparations for the baby shower. She kept the jars of petals under her bed and stowed away her morose thoughts for another time. It wasn't until eight months pregnant Saki waddled into her living room when Hiroko realized what was wrong. At that moment she had darted upstairs into the bathroom and had refused to come out. Even the pleading voice of her husband did nothing to console her. That night only after she was sure her husband was asleep did she vocalize her thoughts.

"I'm in love with Saki Arima?" she whispered the words tasting foreign on her tongue. "I'm in love with Saki Arima" she repeated louder.

By now Hiroko had learned to keep a jar by the bathroom sink. So when she turned, coughing up the petals like she'd done too many nights before, she was not surprised. And still, the emptiness in her chest refused to go away.

Hiroko refused to be any less friendly to Saki with this revelation. Months passed and eventually years. The little infant called Kousei was now a preschooler.

With this secret she guarded with sealed lips and buried tongues her marriage suffered. It was a Thursday in June when she came home to find her husband and his emphatic bed partner. She walked numbly over to Saki's house ringing the doorbell twice. The woman had answered immediately and by the look on Hiroko's face ushered her inside. Takahiko had left for Australia two weeks before. It was then when she found herself curled up in the other woman's arms and hidden by night's dark shadows when she grieved. The decision was made. Her husband would remain; the marriage contract would be sustained. But Hiroko did not come back to her house for nearly two months. And although he was next door, Hiroko felt worlds apart comforted only by the sound of Saki's steady breathing. As if no time had passed the two women return to their routine.

Love you" Hiroko tried one night.

"Love you too"

But in the morning when she pressed her palm to her mouth a handful of petals fell away. Saki could never love her in the way Hiroko did. And she understood that.

When she moved back into her own house it was with trepidation. She made an effort to repair the relationship with her husband but often found herself to be unmotivated. After a true heart to heart, they'd come to a mutual agreement. The divorce was quick, painless really. She knew that it was not his presence she'd mourn. The warm body on his side of her bed was rued.

And still, years past and Hiroko saw less and less of her carefree old friend. Instead, a bitter shell of what once was her sprung from her like a parasite after the fallout. She had every reason to be angry-Hiroko was there on the day of the diagnosis. Saki had clung to her tightly as she whispered words of reassurance into her ear.

"My poor baby boy. What will happen to him?" She repeated tearfully. "My poor poor boy." Hiroko thought it was like a broken record but this music gave her no joy.

In the hospital gown, Saki looked particularly vulnerable. Her shrunken features were hunched over. How could it of escaped Hiroko's notice that she was so thin! She cursed Takahiko for the first time in many years. He should have been there with Saki, not Hiroko. But it seemed for all of his absences, Hiroko had nearly taken his place. Somewhere between the lines of loneliness abandonment and grief, the two women stumbled into Saki's bed. Their clothing sheds like a snakeskin from the couch, to the rug, to the bedroom. Hiroko holds this flesh, that is so new and close to her own delicately like eggs that would crack with too much pressure. She runs her hands down the body that has tormented her for months in mesmerizing passion. The two women lose themselves to eternity-if only for a little while.

The next morning Hiroko woke in a panic, retching up cherry blossoms for a good ten minutes.

'I'm fine" She was lying through her teeth. Hiroko felt sick all over.

The two never talked about what happened that night again. Saki buried herself in her piano and her son, almost never coming out of the house. Hiroko would stop by, often dropping off their dinner when Saki would forget to eat. This time it was Hiroko who was careful never to overstay her welcome.

She felt the anger in the boy's gaze from where she stood. The music hall itself came alive, whispering its words of regret as Kousei exploded in a sea of abuse and misplaced hatred.

Only when she had wheeled the woman outside and safely out of the public's ear did she scold her.

"Really Saki you can't be serious! The poor boy works himself half to death over you!"

She felt the sting on her cheek immediately afterward and knew what had happened. She turned, spitting out a single cherry blossom, and glowered at the other woman. A single tear escaped other woman's eye. Hiroko realized how tired she truly looked.

"Damn you stubborn thing."

From then on, Saki's business was her own. Hiroko withdrew from her life almost completely. She was not the woman Hiroko had grown to love. For the first time in years, Hiroko woke to a vomit-free morning.

And when she passed away a few months later Hiroko did not cry. In fact, it took a full week before the impact of the last decade settled in. And when it did, the cry was greater than one she had ever heard. Hiroko would have taken to vomiting a gallon of blossoms to this. She pawed desperately at her chest, the dark bedroom only cementing her grief more. Hiroko heaved and heaved again but nothing would escape her lips. She tried everything to concoctions out of the refrigerator to shoving her fingers down her throat. When dawn finally rose it's morning lights the exhausted woman let out a single burp. A single cherry blossom floated down onto the duvet, basking in the warmth of the sun. Day's gentle rays lulled the grief-stricken woman to sleep.

The funeral was a quiet affair. After all was said and done she approached the grave. Through hands that shook uncontrollably she produced a jar of cherry blossoms from her bag. She placed the jar next to the grave.

"I think you loved me too"