They were pulling into the Mars' family driveway a short time later, Shaun hopping out the car and trotting to the front door with his father just behind. Norman followed more slowly, shivering in the cold air after the warmth of the car and stifling a cough into his fist. He'd visited the house a couple of times since befriending the family, enough for him not to feel too awkward as Ethan ushered him inside. The place was warm and cosily decorated, comfortably shabby in its furnishings and smelling of something halfway between almonds and honey. He couldn't in that moment imagine anything further from the impersonal sterility of his hotel room.
"Sit down; I need to put Shaun to bed, then I'll make us some coffee." Norman nodded, tensing up as another fit threatened, but father and son had already disappeared upstairs; he dropped down onto the sofa with relief, coughing roughly into his elbow. The sitting room was warm, and cosy in the yellow light from the side lamp, snow having begun to fall gently outside. He watched it for a few minutes, the flakes swirling in slow eddies beneath a streetlight, before another fit struck, making him cough raggedly again.
"Jesus — Norman, you sound like you've got TB." His friend sat down beside him, frowning worriedly, a pair of mugs in his hands. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah." He nodded wearily, rubbing at his chest, and slumped back against the sofa, accepting the mug Ethan passed him with a grateful half-smile. "I, er, guess you could say it's kinda like that. TB I mean. You heard of Hanahaki Disease?" The other man frowned painedly, nodding.
"That's — with the flowers, right? From, er…"
"Unrequited love, yeah." Norman took a sip of his coffee, surprising himself with his own frankness. Still, he was tired, like he seemed to always be these days, and Ethan wasn't the type to judge; he found himself gripped by a sudden desperation to tell someone about his condition before it fully took its course. "It's, uh, bit different, the type I got, but…" He paused, reaching for a fresh tissue as another fit started to build, found himself too ashamed to admit that his form of the disease sprang not from one specific unrequited love, but from a lack of it in general. "Yeah. Started when I was 15; doc said it could be anywhere between two an' fifty years before…y'know —" He barely got the last word out before dissolving into coughing, squeezing his eyes shut at the biting pain in his chest. But the sofa was remarkably comfortable, and Ethan's coffee was really good; he made a conscious effort to relax, determined to appreciate the simple comforts to the full.
"Jesus." Ethan was looking at him in horror, one hand gripping his shoulder as realisation dawned on the other's face. "You — I mean — Christ Norman…"
"Eh, s'okay. I, uh, never really expected I'd make 30, ya know? Not in my line of work, never mind anythin' else."
"But — you don't mean you —" His friend shook his head, shutting his eyes and putting a hand to his temple as he turned away. There was a long, heavy silence; his heart twisted at the realisation that the other man was taking it really badly.
"Hey —"
"There's no cure, is there?" Ethan looked up, his voice shaky; a jolt went through Norman to see the other's eyes shiny with tears. "Apart from — d'you remember who it was? Who you met, when you were 15…"
"Nah." He shook his head, equal parts touched and guilty that the other man had reacted so intensely to the news. "Listen, Mars, this ain't your problem —"
"You're dying, Norman! That —" Ethan shook his head, pain and frustration raw on his face. "You can't just sit there and act like it's nothing!"
"Ah, I dunno. Been waitin' for it long enough." A numbing, marrow-deep exhaustion was seeping into his bones, another sign that he didn't have long. He should leave before things got any worse; should never even have come in the first place when all he'd achieved was making his friend look like his heart was breaking. "Listen, there ain't nothing anyone can do, right? I've had a —" The phrase 'good life' refused to pass his lips; Norman swallowed tightly, pushing back against the maddening itch at the back of his throat. "I've had a lot of years to accept it, y'know? It's okay, really. I'm okay." He forced his brightest, most convincing smile, grunted with surprise as the other man pulled him into a tight hug. He froze, before relaxing hesitantly into it, returning the hug weakly as Ethan pulled him closer, one hand cupping the back of his head. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a genuine hug from someone, his friend's warmth and closeness, the care he could feel in the gesture bringing a lump to his throat. Norman pulled gently away after a moment, pain washing through him to feel the other's fingers spasm in the back of his shirt.
Shit. Poor guy's lost enough without me makin' it worse. Fuck, I should never've said anythin'.
"Thanks, Ethan. Jus'…for everythin'. I really appreciate it. I mean that." He patted his friend's arm slightly awkwardly and pushed himself to his feet, only to be overtaken immediately by another coughing fit. Norman staggered slightly, the room swimming, before warm hands were gripping his shoulders, guiding him gently back onto the sofa. It took him a long time to get his breath back, lungs heaving as though they couldn't get enough air.
"Easy." Ethan squeezed his arm in reassurance, rubbing gently at his back as Norman hunched over his knees, panting. "Is there anything I can do, or…" He shook his head wearily, slumping back into the sofa as he finally caught his breath. All his muscles suddenly felt as heavy as lead.
"No. S'just —" He broke off into more hacking coughs, grimacing as pain erupted in his chest. "S'gettin' worse. I need to get outta here."
"Wait." Ethan got to his feet himself as he stood up again, catching his elbow. "Norman you need a hospital, at least — please don't leave." He shook his head, smiling faintly despite himself.
"I gotta, Mars. Could be days, or…less. S'okay, really." His friend only blinked dazedly, shaking his head, a bone-deep sadness in his eyes where he met Norman's gaze.
"So, what, you're just going to…to go back to your hotel, and…" He shrugged, smiling faintly again.
"Eh, y'know. Jus', get drunk off my ass, try an' forget about it. Maybe find somebody for a lay, if anybody'll have me lookin' like this." He coughed raggedly again, had to fight a sudden, screaming urge to collapse back onto the sofa. Ethan grimaced deeply and clasped his shoulder, shaking his head.
"You don't have to leave."
"Huh?" Norman blinked, knees suddenly shaky again as the words sunk in.
"Dgh — what the fuck, Mars?! I ain't croakin' on your goddamn sofa — you got a kid in the house for Christsakes!" He winced as his voice gave out on the last few words, coughing lightly into his sleeve.
"I just…you shouldn't be alone." Ethan met his gaze evenly, the full weight of what the other man was offering written raw across his face. "Not for that. Please." The other frowned, swallowing visibly. "Stay."
Norman swallowed thickly himself, found himself sinking back onto the sofa as his friend squeezed his shoulder, coaxing him to sit. He was so exhausted his legs were shaking, and he'd barely taken a step.
"You…You'd do that? Seriously?" Ethan nodded, frowning painedly again; Norman grimaced as another cough wracked him, something sticky rattling in his chest on his next inhale.
"Like I said, you…you shouldn't be alone right now. Is there anyone I can call, family, or…"
"Nah." He smiled slightly bitterly, shaking his head. "Parents disowned me years ago when they found out I was gay. Real conservative-types, y'know? I ain't spoken to 'em since. There…" He trailed off into a sigh, shrugging as a wash of shame went through him. "There ain't anybody else." The other man nodded understandingly, silence settling around them for a moment.
"Well, it's a good thing you're here then." Ethan smiled lop-sidedly, blue eyes sad but filled with care where they met his own; Norman had to look away for a moment, swallowing as something warm and tender that had nothing to do with his cough tore open inside his chest. The other laid a hand on his shoulder again, squeezing gently, and for the first time since he could remember he felt like someone genuinely had his back. Genuinely cared, when he hadn't given the other man a single goddamn reason to.
"It's, uh, it's getting pretty late. I've got the guest bedroom, if you want to…" Ethan trailed off, his face pinching with fresh worry. "Is there anything you need from your hotel?"
"Nah." Norman swallowed tightly, flashing the other as much of a smile as he was able. "I'm, uh, yeah. S-Spare room sounds good. Thanks."
"It's okay."
His third attempt at getting up was more wobbly and painful than he'd anticipated, a fresh bout of coughing forcing him to sit again for a moment to catch his breath. Ethan remained quietly beside him, a hand on his arm as Norman reached for his tissues; he realised with a weak groan that he was all out.
"Man — you, uh, you got any tissues?" He gestured with the mess in his hand, closing his fingers a fraction too late to stop the other seeing.
"Of course." Ethan was up and back again in a moment with a box of Kleenex, passing him some with a worried look.
"Thanks." He scrunched the flowers up inside a couple of tissues, not looking at his friend. There was silence for several long moments.
"Are those — sorry, I don't mean to be insensitive or anything, I just —" Norman smiled lop-sidedly, shaking his head.
"S'okay. Yeah, they're uh, they're flowers. Growin' all up inside my lungs; bronchial tubes, the whole works. They, uh, they gave me the option when I was a kid —" He broke off, coughing, Ethan squeezing his shoulder reassuringly again. "Gave me the option for surgery. Only, it would've — would've stopped me from ever feelin' love for anyone or anythin', and uh…hell I, I didn't wanna lose my music. So."
"You play?" He smiled lop-sidedly, a glow of warmth flaring in his chest despite the pain and weakness.
"Piano. Used to. Wish I'd made more time for it." Another short silence, the other man rubbing gently at his back as he coughed quietly again.
"Are those…those lilies, by any chance? Your flowers." Norman smiled lop-sidedly, strangely touched by the turn of phrase.
"…Yeah." He unfolded the tissue, swallowing despite himself at the half-congealed blood covering the petals. "Meant to stand for tranquillity, hope, and inspiration, apparently. Ain't exactly had much of that in my life, so I dunno how true it is." Ethan nodded contemplatively, his gaze on the flowers.
"They're —" The other cut himself off, shaking his head with a weak smile, and Norman blinked, curiosity flickering inside him despite his exhaustion.
"What?"
"Nothing it's — it's fine."
"Seriously, what is it?" His friend shook his head, pursing his lips ruefully.
"They're my favourite colour. I'm sorry, I don't know why I…"
"S'okay. Not exactly an easy thing to deal with, someone pitchin' up on your sofa and telling you he's dyin'." A wash of cold went through him suddenly, as though all the heat had been leached from his bones, and Norman shivered, pulling his green flannel shirt more tightly around himself. The other man grimaced worriedly, squeezing his arm.
"C'mon, we should get to bed. It's pretty cold down here."
Ethan slotted an arm around his shoulders to help him up to standing, supporting most of his weight as they started towards the stairs. Norman leant on the other gratefully, a jolt of fear going through him at the realisation that he wouldn't be able to stay on his feet right now if his friend let go, never mind walk anywhere by himself. The cold suffusing him was getting worse regardless of Ethan's warmth beside him; something quiet but sure in his chest whispered that this was it. He had another couple of hours, if that, couldn't even say for sure whether he'd die in his sleep or wake up choking, be suffocated semi-peacefully or die spewing up blood.
"Listen — Mars." The words were a pant as Ethan settled him on what he presumed was the guest bed, the other man turning to search for something in the wardrobe just behind him. "I —" Norman broke off, hunching over his knees as another wave of cold went through him. "I ain't got long. Couple hours, maybe less with how I'm feelin'. You got a kid. I can't —"
"It's okay." His friend turned back to him, expression deeply pained where he tucked a blanket carefully around Norman's shoulders. "If you — he won't be coming in here, and Grace'll be over to collect him early tomorrow morning. There's…he's not going to…" Ethan trailed off into a sigh, sitting down beside him on the mattress. "Please, don't worry about it. I wouldn't have offered if that was going to be a problem." He nodded, swallowing tightly.
"Okay. If you're sure, then…"
"I'm sure." Norman nodded again, smiling lop-sidedly despite himself.
"You're a good guy, Ethan. Scratch that, you're a great guy. Damn good lookin', too, if I can say that. I can say that, right?" He grinned as the other chuckled softly, prodding him in the ribs with his elbow. "I can totally say that, I'm dyin' here!" His friend only shook his head, smiling lop-sidedly at him.
"Can't say I'm complaining! You're very good-looking yourself."
"Aah." He shook his head, waving the compliment away, but Ethan frowned, clasping his arm.
"I mean it. I was…" The other man trailed off, glancing away as a faint wash of colour rose to his cheeks. "I was hoping there might…might be something here, after we started getting to know each other. That's, er, part of why I kept asking you to go places with me."
"Aw, hell." Norman winced, realisation crashing through him even as remorse twisted his stomach. "I…I'm so sorry, Ethan."
"Christ, don't apologise. It's not like you…" The other trailed off, shaking his head with a grimace. There was silence for a moment, bar the gentle swish of leaves in the trees outside.
"Guess just, right person, wrong time, huh?" Norman smiled ruefully, nudging his shoulder companionably against his friend's where he met his gaze. "I'll catch you on the flip-side, Mars."
"Yeah." The word was a croak; Ethan looked suddenly like he was about to cry. Norman hesitated, before taking his hand, the other man squeezing tightly in response and looping his other arm around him to pull Norman into a warm half hug.
"Hey, uh, what's that line from that movie?" He stifled a cough into his fist, huddling closer as Ethan tightened his embrace. "'Meet me at the bar in heaven'? I'll be the blond in the miniskirt, downin' margaritas like medicine." Ethan choked out a laugh, cheek nuzzling his hair where he leaned into the other man.
"How can you joke, about…" He only shrugged, smiling sadly.
"Ain't much else I can do. Fuck it's so cold —"
"I'll get you another blanket." Norman shook his head and tightened his grip on his friend's hand, suddenly desperate not to lose the contact. But he had to, couldn't make this worse for Ethan by cosying up to him like this — he shook himself internally and forced himself to sit upright, squeezing the other's hand in reassurance.
"S'okay. Think it's just…what it is. Can't get warm no matter what I do."
"D'you want to lie down?" He nodded, finding himself immensely grateful for the softness of the comforter and mattress beneath him as his friend helped him get settled. "Just, make yourself comfortable, okay? Anything you need, just ask." He nodded again, shrugging out of his flannel to leave himself in his black tee-shirt and jeans.
"Can I, uh, take my pants off, if that's not too weird?"
"Not weird at all. I can lend you some pyjama pants if you want. D'you want another blanket?"
"Yeah, please. For both."
Norman settled down beneath the comforter with a relieved sigh, the extra blankets Ethan draped over him a reassuring weight. He was still cold, but not as much as before beneath the covers, and the bed was immensely comfortable now that he'd stripped down to his tee-shirt and boxer briefs, Ethan's brushed-cotton, green-and-brown-checked pyjama pants pulled on over the top.
Guess this ain't so bad. Better than bleedin' out from a gunshot wound, an' it's nice not bein' alone. Hell, who would've thought: Ethan fuckin' Mars, havin' a thing for me. I did always have the worst damn timing; probably look like a zombie right now.
"Okay." Ethan sat down carefully on the edge of the mattress, clasping his shoulder. "I need to go check something — will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?"
"Sure." Norman could feel himself drifting towards sleep already, eyes heavy and whole body aching where he let himself relax into the mattress. When he did fall asleep, that might just be it: a nice way to go for sure, but Ethan would feel terrible coming back to find him. He shifted weakly as his friend stood up, muffling another choked cough against his fist. "Mars."
"Yeah?" The other man was back at his side in a moment, worried blue eyes finding his own. Norman smiled weakly despite himself, curling his fingers in the other's sleeve.
"Save the date. Heaven. Bar. Margaritas. Gonna be about sixty years for you, but it'll feel like minutes for me, if all that works like in the movies. Don't forget." Ethan smiled painedly and shook his head, frowning as he squeezed Norman's hand.
"I won't. I promise." He smiled weakly again as his friend left the room, letting his eyes slip closed and feeling himself start to drift away into fuzzy oblivion. He'd expected to feel scared, but everything hurt so damn much, and he was so tired…it was better for it just to end. End everything, and let him rest for the first time in what felt like forever.
Ethan ended up at his computer for over two hours, poring over everything he could find about Hanahaki Disease. The majority of the information talked about unrequited love, detailing various forms the symptoms could take depending on which organs were affected, and the prognosis for the illness depending on the symptoms and the relative status of the other person regarding the patient's unrequited love for them. The disease was both progressive and terminal; there was no known cure, apart from a surgical procedure which permanently removed the patient's ability to love, both the object of their unrequited affection, and altogether.
Ethan sighed heavily, sitting back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes — before a sudden thought struck him. In all of the information he'd found, the outcome was set at 3-4 months maximum; nowhere was there anything about the disease lasting between two and fifty years. He frowned and amended his latest search to 'can Hanahaki Disease last for years?' scrolling through the given results until he found a reputable-looking article from a medical journal.
Complex Hanahaki Disease
"In rare cases, Hanahaki Disease can last for years, progressing from the intermittent, painless expulsion of petals in the early stages to the frequent expulsion of blood and whole flowers during the late-to-terminal stages of the illness. This unique form of the disease results from the patient's belief that they will never be loved, not from a specific case of unrequited love, as with Simple Hanahaki Disease."
Ethan frowned deeply, reading through the rest of the information with a lump in his throat.
"Complex Hanahaki Disease is progressive and currently incurable without surgery. If surgery is refused, deterioration can be slowed by the cultivation of close friendships and romantic relationships, speed of progression being inversely related to the amount of high-quality close relationships a patient has both pre- and post-diagnosis. Neither amount nor quality of relationships has been shown to reduce symptoms during late-to-terminal stage Complex Hanahaki Disease (the 'full bloom' stage)."
"Treatment at the late-to-terminal stage consists of palliative care and focuses upon helping the patient feel as comfortable as possible. Most Hanahaki patients who refuse surgery live for an average of 35 years post-diagnosis, although this can vary considerably depending on the age at which the patient is diagnosed, the relative size and robustness of their social circle, and the subjective quality of their interpersonal relationships."
Ethan sank back in his chair, shaking his head as a wave of pained compassion swept through him.
"God, Norman…"
Eleven years. You've had this eleven years, and it's already…You've lived your whole life like that? Alone? Thinking that no-one would ever —
He swallowed hard and pushed himself to his feet, closing his laptop before padding back through into the guest bedroom. Norman was lying curled up beneath the comforter; skin pale and sheened with sweat, his breath was a thin wheeze, shallow and laboured as he struggled audibly to breathe. Ethan hesitated, heart twisting inside him so hard it hurt, before sitting down on the mattress, lifting the comforter to lie down beside his friend. Norman's breathing sounded worse up close, a rasping, sticky kind of rattle; he grimaced hard and slipped an arm around the other man, pulling him gently close against his shoulder. Norman stirred after a moment, moaning weakly, blue eyes blinking fuzzily up at him.
"…Mars?"
"Hey. Is this okay?" His friend blinked, smiling faintly after a moment, and nodded, eyes slipping closed again too fast to be voluntary.
"…Yeah. Feels nice."
"I…I read about…what you have. What causes it. I just…" Ethan trailed off, swallowing hard, those beautiful blue eyes opening to slits to blink at him. "I don't…I want to…I want to give you that, if I can?" He swallowed tightly, blinking back tears. "If you've never felt cared for, then…I don't know if I can, but I want to…to give you that. You shouldn't…" He paused, taking a breath, before just saying it. "Nobody should die feeling alone."
Norman only looked at him, blue eyes filled with a mixture of shock and immense gratitude, before huddling closer, Ethan tightening his own embrace as the other's forehead nudged his shoulder. He shifted slightly until the other man was properly in his arms, chest against his and head resting on his shoulder, Norman's knee tucked comfortably between his own. He couldn't believe he hadn't noticed how thin his friend was before now. Hadn't noticed everything sooner, been able to give the other man a better last day than a trip to the carnival with his son in tow and a cup of store-bought coffee. Ethan tightened his embrace at the thought, rubbing soothingly at his friend's back. It was terrifying to think that the other man was dying, that he would wake up tomorrow and find — he pushed the thought determinedly away, smoothing Norman's hair as the other huddled closer, relaxing against him with a grateful sigh and relief evident in every line of his body. There was some horrible instinct to flee when confronted with somebody sick or dying, and he forced it away with revulsion, determined to do all he could to comfort his friend.
"…Y'r warm, Mars." He smiled lop-sidedly at the hoarse murmur, sliding his fingers through the other's hair when Norman leaned into the contact with an appreciative sound.
"That's good."
I don't want you to be cold.
"Never…n'ver had this. Y'know?" The other man broke off into a wet cough, breath rattling like metal filings in his lungs. "N'ver…n'ver been held like this. S'real nice."
Ethan swallowed against another wave of tears and squeezed the other's shoulders, nuzzling his cheek against his hair.
"That bar, in Heaven? We can hold each other like this all the time. I'll make you forget what it's like to feel alone. I promise." There was no response; his friend had fallen asleep against his shoulder, gaunt face relaxed and peaceful where his laboured breaths gradually slowed beneath Ethan's hands. He tucked the other closer and steeled himself, swallowing hard. Thought of Jason, and of Daniel, his college boyfriend who'd died in a shooting accident a day shy of his 20th birthday.
Be strong, Ethan.
He settled his chin on top of Norman's head and closed his eyes, finding a weak measure of peace in resolving to stay with the other man until the end. It wasn't anything even approaching enough, but it was all that he could do.
A/N: Just a reminder that I do not write sad endings lol.
