Disclaimer: I do not in any way own Hetalia.
The first time Gilbert Beilschmidt had coughed up flower petals, he knew. He knew instantly. He had known that it was the hanahaki disease - of course he had, how many other illnesses had you coughing up flowers, for Christ's sake? - but moreover, he knew who the cause was. That was, unfortunately, more than what some people got - so deep in their denial of their love that they refused to face it even when the evidence was shoved right in their face.
Yes, Gilbert knew that his love for Matthew Williams was slowly killing him, but he wouldn't have it any other way. He knew that it was impossible that the other boy would ever feel the same way, and he wouldn't dare harm the friendship they shared. Of course there was no way that Matthew could ever return his feelings - after all, who would ever love someone like Gilbert? He was just some no-good delinquent drunk that Matthew had undoubtedly befriended out of a mix of pity and proximity to his brother.
This of course is why Gilbert found himself on the floor of his apartment, slowly suffocating on the snow-white petals caused by the love-borne illness. He choked out yet another mouthful of the cursed leafs, joining the multitudes of them strewn across the floor. It had been worse today, much worse, with Gilbert waking up already nearly unable to breath for the petals clogging his throat, them pouring out of him in such quantity his humble apartment would nearly resemble a florist's if not for the uniform whiteness of the leafs..
He'd known it was coming for a long time now. He'd suffered from the Hanahaki disease for years now, always managing to drag his sorry hide to the next day, but Gilbert knew he wouldn't manage to do that forever.
In fact, he knew he wouldn't even be able to manage that until the end of the day. He knew he was dying, he could feel the life slowly draining out of his body as his mouth, throat, and lungs filled up with flower petals, depriving him of air. His vision was fading in and out, in and out, and Gilbert's last thought before it went completely black was that Matthew was picking him up for a night out with their friends and he would be so disappointed that Gilbert couldn't make it now, wouldn't he?
Matthew stood in front of the door to Gilbert's apartment, his annoyance and worry increasing with every unanswered knock at the door.
"Gilbert, I know you're in there. I can hear your music," he said loudly enough to be heard even through the door and over said music. Maybe he was asleep, or too engrossed in something else to notice the banging at his door? But no - neither of those was like Gilbert at all. He always answered for Matthew. The blond tried his best to block out all of the worst-case scenarios and what-if's, but
"Alright, Gilbert, I'm coming in!" Matthew announced, utilizing the spare key that Gilbert had entrusted him with as, in his words, his only responsible friend, to unlock the door.
He stilled upon entering the apartment, silent except for the tinny classical music playing from some hidden corner. It was eerily quiet and distant sounding, playing just to serve as background noise - Gilbert said that he couldn't stand silence, but Matthew would go insane if he listened to violins and pianos and whatnot all day everyday.
Matthew shook himself out of his daze and cast his eyes about the room, feeling like something was just generally off about the whole place. Where was Gilbert? It wasn't like him to be quiet.
The violet-eyed stepped inside before closing the door behind him, shutting it with a gentle click. Taking another step inside, Matthew was shocked when he nearly slipped on a pile of petals. That wasn't right - Gilbert never had flowers in his apartment, or any place that he spent a lot of time. Trepidation only growing, Matthew carefully stepped over and around the heaps of flower petals as he made his way over to the space designated as the living room.
Matthew froze at what he saw. Gilbert, splayed out on the couch, petals leaking out of his mouth like a faucet someone had forgotten to turn off. His eyes were half lidded, glassy, and Matthew resolutely refused to see if he was breathing as he reached for his wrist, praying to find a pulse.
It was stone cold.
Dead.
Matthew sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. He looked to his right, sighing in relief when he saw the figure to his right.
"Just a dream," he whispered to himself.
"What was just a dream?" Gilbert asked, causing Matthew to jolt in surprise. He'd forgotten what a light sleeper his partner was.
"N-nothing!" he stammered, not wanting to cause Gilbert any distress.
"C'mon Mattie, talk to me," Gilbert said, sitting up and rubbing calming circles onto Matthew's hand with his thumb. "You have a nightmare?" he asked.
"Yeah," came the whispered response.
"What happened? In the nightmare, I mean."
"Remember the day I first found out…" Matthew swallowed. He didn't like saying it. "When I found out you had been...sick. I came into your apartment and...you were on the sofa. You were...you were…"
"I was passed out because I couldn't breathe. You saved me. The doctors said it was a miracle," Gilbert filled in.
"In the nightmare you weren't just unconscious," Matthew said, nearly bursting into tears. Gilbert pulled him in for a hug, shuffling around awkwardly to rest the taller man's head on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Gilbert...I know I'm a crybaby, and I hurt you, and - and you n-nearly d-d-died because I was s-so oblivious, and, a-and-"
"Hey don't talk like that! Nothing that happened was your fault, so don't blame yourself, don't you dare!" Gilbert ordered sharply.
"S-sorry," Matthew whispered.
"No, no don't - don't apologize. There's nothing to be sorry for. We're both here now, and that's what matters. All of that's years in the past now, anyways."
"Y-yeah," Matthew said, letting out a shaky sigh.
"C'mon, let's go to sleep now Mattie, we've got work in the morning.
Matthew hummed agreeably as he and Gilbert both laid down, the latter still holding the former close.
So I wrote this as a request for a friend. Hope y'all like it.
