Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition, Season 11, Semifinals
Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Beater 2
Prompt: On The Other Side
Optional Prompts: [word] simmer, [emotion] love
Word Count: 1483
Warnings: Hanahaki Disease, unrequited/one-sided love, character death
Notes: I took inspiration from the lyric "Close my eyes (maybe I am only dreaming)", because it immediately made me think of dreaming of someone returning your feelings, when in reality your love for them is unrequited. Hanahaki disease was something that spawned from that.
i don't want to close my eyes
Present
Dean sat alone in his apartment, his sketchpad open on his lap. The dim glow from his desk lamp cast shadows across the room, amplifying the silence. He tried to focus on his drawing, the lines on the paper blending into abstract shapes as his mind kept drifting back to Seamus. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Any moment now, he would hear the faint strumming of a guitar from the living room. Seamus loved playing his music there, his melodies a soothing balm to the chaos of their lives.
As if on cue, the soft notes of an acoustic guitar floated through the apartment. Dean closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. Seamus was playing their favorite song, the one they'd first heard together at a local coffee shop. The melody brought back a flood of memories, each note a reminder of the bond they shared.
Past
It had been a sunny day when they first heard the song. Dean and Seamus were sitting at a table outside their favorite coffee shop, enjoying iced lattes and laughing about some silly joke. The air was filled with the scent of freshly brewed coffee and blooming flowers from the nearby florist. A street musician started playing nearby, his guitar emitting a melody that caught their attention. Seamus was captivated, his eyes shining with admiration.
"I wish I could play like that," Seamus had said, his voice filled with longing. The sun highlighted the golden streaks in his sandy hair, and his smile was infectious.
Dean had smiled, nudging him with his elbow. "You're already amazing, mate. Besides, you've got your own style."
Seamus had blushed, but he'd looked pleased. That day, they'd bought the musician's album, and it had become their go-to music for studying and relaxing. The melody of that first song had stayed with them, becoming a symbol of their friendship and shared moments.
Present
The music grew louder, and Dean felt a pang in his chest. He coughed, a few petals falling from his lips. He quickly wiped them away, not wanting anyone to see. Hanahaki disease was rare and deadly, caused by unrequited love. He'd known he was in trouble the moment he realized his feelings for Seamus were more than just friendship.
He'd tried to ignore it, to push the feelings down, but it was no use. Every time Seamus smiled at him, every time he heard that familiar strumming, the flowers inside him grew. The vibrant petals were a cruel reminder of the love he could never express. The emotions simmered within him, growing more intense with each passing day.
Past
Dean and Seamus had spent countless hours together, their bond growing stronger each day. One evening, Seamus had asked Dean to help him write a song. They'd sat on the floor of their apartment, surrounded by notebooks and pens, brainstorming lyrics and melodies. The room was a creative mess, with sheets of paper scattered everywhere, filled with scribbled notes and half-finished verses.
"I want it to be about friendship," Seamus had said, strumming his guitar thoughtfully. "About how it can turn into something more." His eyes sparkled with excitement, and Dean's heart had skipped a beat. Could this be…?
"Of course, I'm not saying that I have feelings for anyone," he'd continued, and Dean's heart had sunk. "It's just an idea that's been marinating in my head for a while."
Dean had forced a smile, ignoring the fluttering in his chest. "That sounds great, Seamus. Let's do it."
They'd worked late into the night, their laughter and creativity blending together. Seamus's enthusiasm was contagious, and Dean had cherished every moment, even as he felt the first stirrings of pain in his chest. The song they created was a beautiful testament to their friendship, but for Dean, it was also a bittersweet reminder of the feelings he couldn't share. His emotions continued to simmer beneath the surface, threatening to overflow.
Present
Dean's condition worsened over the months. He coughed more frequently, and the flowers became harder to hide. He avoided Seamus whenever he could, not wanting his friend to see him suffer. But it was impossible to stay away completely.
One evening, Seamus, toting his guitar, found him sitting on the balcony. The city lights twinkled in the distance, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the potted plants around them. "Dean, what's going on? You've been avoiding me."
Dean looked away, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm fine, Seamus. Just… tired."
Seamus didn't buy it. He sat down next to Dean, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" His voice was filled with concern, and his touch was warm and reassuring.
Dean felt the tears well up in his eyes. He wanted to tell Seamus everything, but he couldn't bear to burden him with the truth. So he just nodded, hoping it was enough to reassure him. The weight of his secret was becoming unbearable, but he couldn't bring himself to let Seamus in on his suffering. The emotions simmered within him, a constant reminder of the love he couldn't express.
Seamus hesitated. Clearly, he wanted to press Dean, but was reluctant to do so. "I think I've made some progress with that new song we've been working on," he said, carefully maneuvering the guitar into his lap. "Want to hear?"
"Sure."
Dean shut his eyes as the first notes rang through the air, accompanied by Seamus' quiet voice, letting the sounds wash over him. For a moment, it was so easy to forget that he was dying. For a moment, it was easy to believe that he and Seamus were lovers, that they spent their days composing love songs for each other and wrapping themselves around each other at night. Dean wished and ached and longed with all his heart for that life so much, for a world in which Seamus loved him back and all was well.
But Seamus' song abruptly ended, and with his final crooned lyrics came the stark, harsh reality of what he was enduring. In this life, he would never achieve that dream.
But still, his smile was genuine and bursting with love as he gazed at Seamus. "I love it," he murmured.
Past
The song they'd written together became a hit among their friends. Seamus played it at every gathering, and each time, Dean felt his heart swell with a mix of pride and pain. He loved seeing Seamus so happy, so passionate about his music. But it also reminded him of the love he could never confess.
One night, after a particularly joyful performance at a friend's party, Seamus had hugged Dean tightly. "I couldn't have done this without you, mate. You're the best."
Dean had hugged him back, trying to ignore the petals he felt rising in his throat. "Anything for you, Seamus. Always." The words were sincere, but they carried a deeper meaning that Seamus didn't understand. The emotions simmered within Dean, the unspoken words and unrequited love slowly eating away at him.
Present
Dean knew he didn't have much time left. He tried to stay strong, to savor every moment he had with Seamus. But the pain was becoming unbearable. He was coughing out almost entire flowers now.
One evening, as Seamus played their song in the living room, Dean felt a sharp pain slice through his chest. He doubled over, coughing violently. Seamus was at his side in an instant, his guitar forgotten.
"Dean! What's wrong?"
Dean couldn't hide it anymore. He coughed up a handful of petals, the vibrant colors stark against his pale skin. Seamus's eyes widened in horror.
"Dean, no…"
Dean tried to smile, but it was weak. "I'm sorry, Seamus. I didn't want you to know."
Seamus shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "No, don't apologize. I should have seen it. I should have known."
Dean reached out, his hand trembling. He wanted to reassure Seamus, but already he could feel himself slipping away. He found strength for only a few words. "I love you, Seamus. I always have."
Seamus took his hand, holding it tightly. "I love you too, Dean. Please, stay with me."
I'm sorry, he thought weakly. Perhaps we'll see each other on the other side. But it was too late. His body spasmed and a full flower burst out of his mouth. More fell from between his lips, and he struggled to breathe.
This was it.
His last thought was of Seamus, the boy who had brought music into his life and filled his heart with unspoken love.
He took his last breath, just as the last flower fluttered to the ground. Dean closed his eyes, feeling the music of Seamus' voice linger in the air, a hauntingly beautiful echo of the love that had simmered within him, now silenced forever.