A gloved hand holding a sharp jaw, a medical light illuminating airways.
Between the Patient and doctor a metal tray, on it bloodied flower petals.
Cheadle Yorkshires examination room was a small, sterile space, hidden away from the offices in the hunter association building. She discarded the medical forceps she had been holding and took off her gloves with a snap and sigh. "We both know what this is, Pariston."
"I'm not a horticulturist, but I'd guess Lilies."
"Very funny, but it's Amaryllis. How long has this been going on?"
The blond man smiled, too relaxed to fit the situation. "Good question, I barely notice it, you know? It's not much more but a nuisance in my very, very busy days. You're the first to catch me while coughing, though."
"Hanahaki is a serious disease, Pariston, I'd prefer it if you'd treat it as such." The young woman rubbed her temple in frustration, before continuing her lecture. "I can't find traces of stems or roots yet, so you're most likely in the early stages. But you shouldn't let it get any further."
"Alright, you can just send the prescription up to my office later. Thank you for the emergency appointment, miss doctor." Pariston got up and headed for the door, but not before Cheadle could block his path.
"I can't write you a prescription for this, there is no medicinal cure for Hanahaki."
"...Pardon?"
"I can get you a prescription to alleviate the symptoms and slow down the Progression of the disease, but the cure has been the same for centuries. Confession."
Silence fell between the two as they entered a fierce staring match. Paristons smile didn't falter, though it grew more tense.
"A sincere love confession is the only way to completely rid you of this."
"I didn't think a renowned doctor like you would buy into such superstitions. I'll see you at the conference later, toodles!" Pariston slid past Cheadle with ease, though she walked after at a quick pace.
"It's my duty as a doctor to save people. If you're not going to do it, I'll talk to G-"
The tall man stopped in his tracks and suddenly laid a firm hand on the shorter woman's shoulder, his voice dropped dangerously low. "You are not going to talk with anyone. Doctor-Patient confidentiality. Care to remind me of the consequences of breaking it?"
This was sufficient to silence Cheadle, as she turned with a hissed "You're insane."
When they next saw each other, she would glare at him with every stifled cough.
.
.
It took two more weeks until the rest of the zodiacs, save for anyone who didn't attend regular meetings, noticed the ever more severe growing Illness the vice chairman was suffering from.
Pariston tried to brush off any comments and concerns at first, but as he started to lose control of coughing fits and loose petals scattered more often, he chose to embrace the attention it garnered him.
During a routine meeting, another coughing fit overcame him, and after he had covered his side of the table with bloodied petals and a few green leaves, he'd laugh lightly about what a powerful thing love can be.
Pyon rolled her eyes. "If it's so powerful, why don't you like, confess then? This is super gross."
"Isn't there more power in showing your devotion to love by letting your entire body be consumed by it? Maybe once you're older, you'll understand." He laughed again and casually wiped blood speckles from the corner of his lips.
"That sounds like a cop-out for being too scared to confess."
"Nonsense, what is there to be scared of of love?"
"You tell me, rat."
As the tension grew, Cheadle got between the two. "That's enough, Pyon. I'm sure the vice chairman is grateful for your concern about his health. Pariston, can I have a word with you?"
The rat waved Pyon goodbye as she stuck her tongue out, and he fell into a relaxed pace next to the other woman, down the quiet office hallways.
"You've been getting worse."
"Don't be so negative. I'm not getting worse; my love is only growing stronger. Never thought of myself to be such a romantic."
"I am not sure if your respiratory system gradually shutting down can be considered romantic."
"Maybe your view of romance is quite limited, then. How unfortunate."
"…He hasn't been here in quite a while. He probably doesn't even know you're sick, does he?"
Their footsteps clicked in a slow, steady pace on the tiled floors. Pariston tucked on the cuffs of his suit, avoided the persistent stare of the woman as she waited for an answer. "He doesn't."
"Honestly, you two… It's still surprising to me that after all this time, you've never told him you loved him once."
"To put such a nuanced and-" he took out a handkerchief and briefly coughed into it, a few petals falling to the ground in the process. "-Excuse me. Such a nuanced and complicated relationship cannot be merely summed up in three words. There is no need for it. I'd prefer to keep it that way."
"...because you know it agitates everyone around you?"
Pariston smiled, as genuine as he could muster. "Partially."
They continued to walk in silence for a bit longer, steps evenly matched, until eventually they came to a halt at Paristons office.
"I have his emergency number, Pariston. This can all end with one phone call."
"Aw, Cheadle, what a sweet offer! But if I ended this now, you'd stop worrying over me. Isn't this whole ordeal bringing us closer?"
"Closer to a funeral, definitely."
.
.
As the days passed, Paristons melodramatic suffering reached new heights as he'd spontaneously cancel meetings last minute due to "matters of the heart" and left a trail of flowers, stems and all, wherever he walked.
The Zodiacs had gathered in their conference room once more, ready to discuss important financial matters and department distribution, two seats left vacant.
Mizaistom was the first to speak up. "Did the vice chairman cancel again?"n
A couple glances were exchanged with murmurs of "I don't know"s and "Don't think so"s.
A nervous sensation crept its way from Cheadles spine all the way into her head, an aching nausea of suspicion. "I'll go check on him."
She didn't run, but her pace was swift. In her mind she went through all possible scenarios of what she may find in the man's office. A note with 'Gone for coffee xoxo'. Him dictating to some poor intern a novel about his oh-so-tragic illness. Making morbid amaryllises bouquets.
Anything like that would be acceptable, compared to-
The office door swung open, and her blood ran cold.
Pariston had collapsed on his desk, blood pooled around his head, drip-dropping from his lips. Within the deep red lay pure-white Amaryllises, grown and in full bloom. His hair clung to the sweat on his forehead, his complexion was sickly pale.
"I need an emergency kit in here, STAT!"
Her mind was racing. Cold to the touch. Lips pale blue. Carotid pulse weak but there. Shallow, short breaths.
She tucked hard on her gloves. "You owe me for this, rat." One hand kept his neck steady as the other secured Airways, pushing past and removing loose petals, leaves, and coagulated blood.
As she removed her blood-stained fingers, Pyon rushed in with an emergency medical suitcase, only to immediately turn around and gag.
"Pyon, get a stretcher and tell Botobai to come here." Cheadle started to assemble a mobile suctioning device and stared at the unconscious man.
"...And get me my phone too!"
.
.
Pariston awoke to the gentle, steady beeping of a monitor and the sound of someone humming. It took a bit for him to open his eyes and let them adjust to the sterile brightness that surrounded him. LED lights. Off-White Walls. Pale blue bedsheets, neatly folded over him.
And signature green hair.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty." Cheadle was bandaging an IV site, through which a syringe pump was steadily injecting a clear liquid.
"You think I'm beautiful?" He had intended to sound casual and teasing, but the words tore their way through his throat like razor blades, tell-tale cooper taste covered his tongue. There was no point in trying to catch his breath, as his lungs felt constricted and bound.
"I think you're an idiot. I did a CT scan, and roots have started to manifest in your bronchi. This is stage 5 Hanahaki."
"Ha...make my funeral mandatory attendance for every registered hunter, please."
"There won't be a funeral, Pariston."
"Right, a candlelight vigil would be better, good call."
"You're not going to die, and I will regret putting my license on the line for you."
The door to the single bed ICU opened, and in came no other but Ging Freecss.
Pariston shot a disbelieving glare to Cheadle, who got up from her examination chair to greet the new arrival. The monitors beeping picked up in pace.
"Thank you for coming, Ging."
"Thanks for calling." The shorter man grabbed the examination chair and took a seat next to the bed. "Pariston, I was gone for five weeks."
"Thirty-two days, if I'm not mistaken."
"Choking yourself on greenery is a bit dramatic, even for you."
"You won't have to pay for flowers at the reception." He smiled, but strain on his Vocal cords and the exhausting pressure on his lungs tired him out quick and made his vision blur.
A warm hand grabbed his, calloused fingertips over smooth skin. "Don't you have something to say to me?"
"Take a shower."
"You first, you reek of blood and rotten flowers."
Somewhere behind them, Cheadle let out an annoyed groan. Paristons let out a choked laugh, which triggered a suppressed coughing fit. Fresh petals scattered on the bedding, and Cheadle walked over to adjust syringe pump speed.
He could still tell that Ging smelled of sea salt and herbs. He always did.
The other man pressed his hand, not urgently but insistently. "Paris…"
Algid pain medication spread from his veins throughout his body, relaxed him further into the bed. "Fine, fine. The public still needs me, after all."
He wondered if this was really what dying felt like, the numb pain, the cold, the presence of someone so impactful on his life.
"I love you."
The exhaustion forced his eyes closed, but he could feel a hand that brushed away his hair, and soft lips on his temple. A familiar, raspy voice spoke into his ear.
"Mhm, love you too."
And the first breath he took in unobstructed and clear, smelled off sea salt and herbs.