What seemed like a quick fifteen minute nap to Lance ended up being two hours. He was awoken by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket-his mother; apparently she had called him three times prior to him waking up. Groggily, Lance picked up the phone. "Si mamá, que quieres?"

"Don't pick up with that tone, huevo!" Sofia scolded. Lance ran his palm down face and stood up.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm just tired."

"Where are you?"

"Walking home. I took a nap under that tree in the park."

"In the snow? Ay dios mio, mijo come back quickly."

Lance gave her an exhausted, "mhm," and hung up. The Cuban walked back to the store, shivering harshly. The snow had seemingly bit through his sweatshirt and the icy wind started to trickle into any opening it could; the walk back was horrid-and the snow seemed to fall harder than it did when he walked to the park. Dammit, he should've listened to his mom.

Upon making it back to the store, he found it to be closed. Lance walked to the door next to the shop and made his way upstairs, to the medium studio apartment he shared with this mother and their tabby cat.

The apartment was a nice little space honestly. Lance had helped his mother to add another wall to form a room for him, and one for Sofia when he was twelve; the studio had a large window facing the street that allowed for the place to have natural light illuminate it. During the day it felt like living in one of those cheesy ass romcom movies-but at night, the moon and what little stars he could see made it feel like a witches' home. Lance adored the little apartment he shared with his mom.

Lance trudged to his room, stripped out of his wet, snow covered clothes and into warmer ones; black sweatpants and a Disneyland t-shirt he bought two years prior. His hair was damp, but he decided to leave it to air dry-he liked how curly his hair got anyway.

When he returned to the living room, his mother was in the kitchen, making hot cocoa for her son; Lance walked over to her and gave her head a soft kiss. "Hola mamá," he muttered, looking for an apple to snack on.

Sofia returned the greeting and handed a cup of the hot beverage to her son. It had three marshmallows floating in it and a spoon in the cup to stir more milk into it-just the way Lance liked it. He thanked her and leaned against the counter as he enjoyed the hot cocoa with his mother.

"Something is troubling you," she noted, putting a hand on her son's cheek. He leaned into it, sighing softly. "Talk to me."

Lance put down his cup and his apple and stared at his mother for a moment. She was beautiful, really. Smile lines graced the corners of her deep brown eyes, and she had prominent cheekbones, making her smile even more comforting than it already was. She smelled like vanilla and honeysuckle, and despite how odd that mixture sounds, Lance found it smelled like home.

"Lance."

"Sorry. Dozed off for a moment." He closed his ocean eyes and gave her a weak smile. "I've just been feeling a bit sick lately. It might be the sudden snow storm." Sofia knew it was a lie, having known for years how her son operated. But she decided to just let Lance continue. "Maybe it's allergies or somethi-"

As if on cue, Lances body shook with a coughing fit far more violent than the one that had ravaged his body earlier that day. His mother fretted for a moment and rushed to get him a glass of water, but something was different this time; he felt like throwing up. But his throat was dry? His chest heaved a little, and he felt his eyes water as his body rejected...something.

Almost as soon as it had started, the coughing stopped. Lance was hunched over clutching his stomach with one hand, and holding his throat with the other. A mix of worry and confusion and terror was etched into his face as he coughed one more time; this time, two rose petals fell from his mouth, one dark purple, the other, a pale lavender.

Sofia drew in a breath. She was just as confused and worried as her son. "Hijo..."

Lance stood up slowly and took the glass of water his mom gave him. The world seemed to slow down. He took a sip of the water and just stared at the two petals on the linoleum kitchen floor. What the fuck? Petals from his throat? That was fucking weird, not to mention impossible. Humans just don't grow flowers inside of them. That was the stuff of nightmares, and fairy tales. The Cuban put the cup of water down next to his unfinished hot cocoa and apple, and gulped.

The action burned his throat.

"I...think I'll head to sleep early," he told his mother, voice devoid of all emotion except fear.

"Lance, you can't go to sleep without eating-"

He seemed to not have heard her. "Goodnight mamá."

Lance felt like he was at his wits end in the matter of a few minutes. He made his way to his room and laid down, his blue eyes closing almost immediately. "What the fuck?" he muttered, running a hand through his chocolate curls.

Maybe if he fell asleep, he'd wake up under that snow covered willow tree. Right? This was all a damn crazy dream that was probably induced by the week old chili he ate last night; humans don't just vomit rose petals! That's just not how humans work.

Sleep wasn't that hard to acquire for Lance, and just before he slipped into a deep slumber, he hugged a stuffed animal close to his chest for comfort, stuffing his face into the soft fur of the hammerhead shark plush.

He hadn't done that in almost ten years.