SUMMARY

Shouyou's lungs ache, filled to the brim with flowers. His heart hurts, bleeding from an unrequited love.

"You see, when I can call like that to him across space—I belong to him. He doesn't love me—he never will—but I belong to him."

― L.M. Montgomery, Emily's Quest

Shouyou's lungs constrict again, and he coughs. The spots of red mingle with the purple tulip petals, and Shouyou crumbles them with his fist as he lets his head rest against the cold wall of the bathroom. His chest has stopped aching for now, so he tries to stabilize his breathing before standing up and tossing the crumpled petals into the nearby trash can.

He washes his hands, wiping away the specs of blood from them, and makes sure his face isn't stained either before looking at himself in the mirror. His face looks ashen, and there are big bags under his eyes. His usually bright orange hair is opaque, and all in all, he looks like a strong wind could knock him over.

The others are surely looking for him, since he left practice in quite a showy fashion. Not that Shouyou had any other option, since he's not too keen on letting everyone watch him as he coughs up flowers. Especially not him.

Shouyou doesn't know how it happened. Or well, when it happened. It's almost too easy to find reasons to love him.

At first, he was the senpai that they had beaten during his first year of high school to get to Nationals. A setter he held in high regard because he was even better than Kageyama, and was an outstanding player. Then, when he arrived at university, he became his team's Captain and starter setter. They became friends, partners even. His tosses were and still are one of the best Shouyou has ever spiked, like they are meant for him each and every time. They started to work well together, to communicate well in and out of the court.

So of course, Shouyou had to fuck it up and fall in love with him.

At first, Shouyou genuinely had no idea who was supposed to be responsible for the white carnations he had just coughed up, locked up in his room.

Shouyou isn't stupid, he knows what the Hanahaki Disease is. It's one of the main topics in the health class curriculum during middle school, and later on during high school again. So he knows what it means when the pretty petals come out, with small specs of blood all over them.

What he didn't know at the time, was who he was supposed to be in love with.

It should be stated, Shouyou has never been in love before, not really. He had had crushes - even though Kageyama won't ever hear about it, no sir - but those were fleeting and never left him with a particularly deep impression. He certainly hadn't coughed flowers before, that's for sure.

So who?

He got his answer a week later, during volleyball practice. He was doing some receiving with Bokuto's help, when suddenly he saw it.

Oikawa is as beautiful as ever, he had thought absentmindedly as he watched Oikawa set for Iwaizumi in a flawless manner.

Out of everyone, Iwaizumi has always been the one Oikawa sets for the best. Shouyou thinks it's fitting, they are childhood friends, after all, but their coordination and shynch are still something to be amazed by.

Then it hit him.

Since when did he think Oikawa is beautiful?

Now, don't het him wrong. From an objective point of view, Shouyou knew and still knows Oikawa is handsome and that he has an aesthetically pleasing physique. That much can't be denied. But to go from there to beautiful… well, that's another thing entirely.

When he watches as Oikawa and Iwaizumi cheer for another good spike, how they didn't even need to say anything for the ball to be setted and spiked beautifully, something in his chest constricted, and the sudden urge to cough overcame him. Shouyou was quick to turn around, trying to keep everyone from seeing it, but Bokuto, who was practicing with him, asked if he was okay. Shouyou could only give him a wave of his hand to ask him for a moment before he went to where his bag was for one of the tissues he had stashed there for that exact situation. Not that he expected it to happen during practice of all places, but he couldn't be too cautious. Hanahaki is no joke, after all.

Everything went downhill from there. When before he had spent his time after practice doing some extra tosses with Oikawa, now he hurries out of the gym as soon as he could. Before, the two of them crossed the same hallways on their way to class and always stopped to chat for a bit, but now Shouyou takes the longer route just to avoid a confrontation with his Captain. He is not that loud in practice anymore, he showers and changes as fast as possible, and asks Anahori Shouchi, their reserve setter, to toss to him in practice instead of going to their Captain, who has always tossed for him up until now.

He gets questioning glances from his teammates, who know he and Oikawa have a good connection, but Shouyou ignores them, and when asked, plays dumb.

Even then, Shouyuo can't stop the thoughts clouding his head. How good Oikawa looks with that shirt, how appealing his torso looks when his shirt lifts during his jumps, how pretty his laugh is, and how blinding his smiles are. Suddenly, Oikawa is everywhere. In the hallways, during lectures, in the cafeteria, at practice. Everywhere he goes, he finds him, or people talk about him, or something remembers him of the setter. Every time, his mouth fills with petals of different colors, always stained with the dark red of his blood.

Most days it's tolerable. Yes, puking out flowers is in no way fun, but it's not like he constantly feels like dying. Shouyou can go on about his day, do his morning runs, then to practice, eat some breakfast, go to his classes, eat some more, attend the rest of his classes, evening practice, and bolt out for his dorm room. Since he's on a scholarship, Shouyou gets all his expenses paid, including the fancy single dorm room he and every other athlete on a scholarship gets. That means he's not bothered at all by any roommates who don't like his schedule - he does wake up rather early, and go to sleep before twelve too, practice is exhausting sometimes - even if sometimes his team comes to bother him with some thing or another. Those are mostly Kuroo and Bokuto, though, so it's not like me minds that much.

Other days, the tougher days, Shouyou feels like he can't breathe. He spends most of the day coughing up full blossoms, sitting pitifully on the bathroom floor as he tries - and fails - to get Oikawa out of his head, just like he is now.

But he can't, and it hurts. It hurts so much because even though Shouyou loves him - and isn't that scary, to love someone so much that when rejected the pain becomes physical - there's no way Oikawa would ever love him back.

For him, Shouyou is just that little Chibi-chan who sometimes stays to practice with him, the excitable freshman that was scouted by the university. They are friends, sure, but Shouyou is confident Oikawa merely sees him as a kid, since high school when they had that first practice match, and even after Karasuno defeated Aoba Johsai during those memorable Qualifiers.

During those days, Shouyou thinks about the Hanahaki Disease. It's the illness of love, the unrequited kind. Only people who fall in love with someone who doesn't love them back have it. There are two ways to cure it: the first one is if that person's love is, in fact, requited, essentially eliminating the reason of the disease enterily. The second one is a surgery. It has a seventy percent chance of survival, and in the case that it works, one forgets about everything they know about the person they fell for. There are ways around that, of course - writing every meaningful experience with them in paper assures the operated one a chance to know who that person is - but all the feelings one may have harbored for that person would be gone forever, even the ones that aren't love related.

Now, Shouyou doesn't necessarily want the surgery. The success rate isn't that high, and he doesn't want to forget Oikawa, as masochistic as it sounds. Even with the flowers, even with the pain and the aching knowledge of being unrequited, loving Oikawa is one of the most beautiful things he has ever experienced. It's almost easy, loving him, admiring him from afar in a dazed state filled with bloodied petals.

But volleyball comes first, and the flowers are slowly and painfully killing him, so it's not that difficult to make the desition. He only has to ask permission for his coach, which won't be difficult once he explains why he's asking for a leave, and then go to the hospital. Surgeries to treat Hanahaki are free of cost, and they are counted as an emergency procedure, so he could get the flowers removed in less than twenty four hours.

His lungs hurt again, punctured by the spines of the stems and filled to the brim with colorful flower petals. It's almost by reflex that his hand gets to his mouth as the petals start to come out, lilies, daffodils and forget-me-nots.

The sound of his ragged breathing echoes around the bathroom, but Shouyou can't bring himself to care. It hurts, it hurts so much. He feels the spines piercing his lungs, and the flowers filling them until nothing else can enter, breathing is so fucking hard, and still… what hurts the most is knowing his feelings are in no way returned.

Just the thought of Oikawa's rare smiles, the ones that make his heart melt because they are so genuine - the ones he usually makes when he and Iwaizumi make a good combo during practice, or when he's eating milk bread - is enough to send Shouyou in another spiral of coughs and bloodied petals.

He doesn't hear the bathroom door's opening, too busy coughing his lungs out, and by the time a pair of volleyball shoes enter his vision, Shouyou's hands are full of flower petals, blood staining his lips.

He looks up slowly, fear filling his eyes as they reach Oikawa's, and he goes to say anything when his lungs constrict again, and the flowers force their way up once more.

Oikawa kneels beside Shouyou as he goes into another coughing fit, rubbing his back in a soothing matter, trying to make him feel better. He doesn't. His presence only makes things worse, but Shouyou has no idea how to tell him that, doesn't know how to ask him to leave without telling him he's utterly and hopelessly in love with him. He can only cough flowers upon flowers, so much his hands aren't enough to hold them anymore, and the stained petals fall on the bathroom's floor, crumpled and ruined.

Shouyou only stops when there are no more flowers to cough. He has no strength left, and he's thankful for the temporal breather he gets. This is the first time his lungs are completely free since he first started with the flowers, probably because it's the first time Oikawa has actually been there while he gets them out, so he has no other option but to get them all out.

"Shou-chan?" Oikawa's voice makes him look back up. His Captain looks worried, not that he expected anything else, and he hurries to get him some wet paper towels to clean his face. Shouyou just looks at him, silent, and hopes Oikawa doesn't ask. He's not that lucky. "How… how long has this been going on?"

"What, the flowers?" his voice is raspy, and his throat hurts from the abuse. Oikawa nods, carefully wiping the blood from his chin. "A few months." there's no reason to hide it, not now that Oikawa has seen it. "I'm going to get them removed soon, don't worry."

"What?" Oikawa's face morphs into a surprised expression, momentarily stopping what he's doing.

"I was being selfish, not doing anything. Maybe a part of me thought my love would be reciprocated but… volleyball comes first. And it's not like I ever stood a chance, anyways," Shouyou says, going to stand up. "I'm sorry for running away from practice like that, I didn't want anyone to see me like this."

"Practice, you— Shou-chan, that isn't important. You've been gone for thirty minutes, are you telling me you have been coughing up flowers for that long?"

"I'm fine, I'm used to it. And I already said I'll get them removed soon, so you don't have to worry about me. I'll be back in full force by next week, and then we'll—"

"Who?" Oikawa interrupts him, and Shouyou looks up from the floor, from where his eyes hadn't strayed since he first looked at Oikawa. "Who is it, the one who holds your love?"

"Oikawa-senpai…" Shouyou tries to make up an excuse, some name he won't ever remember, but Oikawa's eyes compel him to tell the truth. "Isn't it obvious? I didn't think I was being that subtle."

"What do you—"

"It's you," he says, and he has to force the urge to cough again. So much for a break from the flowers. "It's. It's you."

Oikawa doesn't say anything, and Shouyou can't stop the flowers anymore, convulsing as he coughs them up. They are mostly daffodils, but a few lilies blend in.

They are, objectively, beautifull. Daffodils have a bright yellow color, cheerful and pretty. Lilies come in different colors, but the one's Shouyou coughs up are white. Both would look even prettier if they weren't covered with dark red spots, crumpled by his throat and his hands.

Shouyou tries not to look at Oikawa as the flowers fill his hands once again. He's surrounded by them, petals of different colors that make for a gory picture of beauty.

He still feels the setter's look on him, but Shouyou doesn't know what it means. The rational part of him knows, Oikawa is just trying to find a way of letting him down gently so he doesn't cause more harm than the flowers already do. But the smaller, naïve part of him hopes, begs for him to tell him he loves him back. He wants the pain to stop, he doesn't want to forget him. Shouyou… Shouyou wants to be loved by him.

"Shou-chan." Shouyou instinctively looks at Oikawa, who has a carefully placed expression. Shouyou can see the edges of wariness, of sadness, and worry, and his heart plummets just as his hopes are crushed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would it have changed anything?"

"Yes," and before Shouyou can ask, surprised, what, Oikawa closes the distance between them and crashes his lips against Shouyou's.

The kiss is awkward. Shouyou's head is downcast, and Oikawa has to grab Shouyou's head with his own hands to tilt his head up. The metallic taste of blood and the overwhelming scent of flower petals don't leave either of them, but Oikawa doesn't pull back, and Shouyou can see his hazel eyes closed. He's too stunned at first to reciprocate, so Oikawa moves his lips against his own unmoving ones. Slowly, clumsily so, he tries to kiss back, but his abused lungs can't handle the lack of air, so he has to break away so he doesn't choke up more flowers on Oikawa's mouth.

Oikawa rushes to help him this time, rubbing his back again agand low key panicking, probably because the flowers just keep coming out.

"Shou-chan, I love you too! I love you, so stop coughing up flowers, please!" he pleads, almost tearfully so, and Shouyou chokes on the petals making their way up his throat.

As he tries to swallow back the flowers, Shouyou mulls over Oikawa's words. He… loves him back. His love isn't unrequited, Oikawa loves him back.

A choked sob comes slips past his lips, mixing with the few petals still in his mouth. Oikawa only paniks even more, pleading to tell him what's wrong, Shou-chan, please answer! But Shouyou doesn't listen, because he doesn't trust himself with words right now, and instead, grabs Oikawa's shirt and pulls him back in for another kiss, effectively shutting him up.

This kiss still tastes of blood, and still smells overwhelmingly of flowers. Shouyou can taste the salt of Oikawa's tears, and they both move clumsily. But his chest doesn't ache anymore, and the petals back down, subdued.

When Shouyou pulls away, Oikawa is looking at him in shock, and despite everything that's going on, he smiles. Oikawa reciprocates after a few seconds, seeing there are no more flowers coming out of his mouth, and he goes for a tight hug, ignoring Shouyou's protests because you'll get your clothes bloodied, let me wash it off first!

"I was so scared when I saw you coughing up flowers just now, Shouyou. Let me have this, alright?" he whispers, mouth against his orange hair, and slowly, Shouyou lets himself melt against Oikawa's chest. "I had no idea you… if I had known, I would have done this a lot sooner, I promise you."

"Really?" Shouyou asks, tightening his hold on Oikawa's shirt, and the brunet hums in agreement. "Then how come you don't have Hanahaki?"

"I… suspected you felt the same, and just were too shy to tell me. I didn't think you thought I didn't love you back."

"Oh," Oikawa pulls apart at his answer, and makes Shouyou look at him. "What?"

"If something like this happens again, if— if you're hurt again, I want you to tell me, okay? I can't… I can't bear the thought of seeing you like this again, I can't Shou-chan." and he sounds so genuine, voice bare of any type of disceivings or that sickenly sweet tone he uses for his fangirls. He sounds like the Oikawa that gets excited after a good serve, or when he talks about aliens and space, it sounds real.

"Alright. I'll tell you. I promise," he says, and turns to hug Oikawa again.

They should probably stand up from the bathroom floor, they should clean the mess of bloody flower petals and Shouyou should wash the blood off his face. They should tell the team Oikawa found Shouyou, and that the redhead won't be playing until the flowers completely leave his system, and they should go to the hospital to know how bad the damage in Shouyou's lungs is. But he's comfortable like this right now, embraced by Oikawa's arms, knowing he is loved back with as much fervour as he loves the setter.