STAGE I

Notes:

SPANISH VER EN MI PERFIL

Ayo!

This is the first time I'm writing about Hanahaki Disease and it has to be angsty, as you may have seen from the tags… I also wanted to make it Omegaverse because I thought it would be more dramatic.

Honestly, I did cry while writing it.

The good thing is that it got me out of my writer's block, so much so that I finished it in a single day without going to university, social service, or work. I really made the most of my time, huh.

I actually edited the cover in Canva and even paid for the design (Canva Pro), so maybe in the future, I'll replace it with my own drawing, but we'll see.

The fic is already finished, and a chapter will be uploaded once a week.


Feelings were never something that was tied to Pico at all. Instincts? Yes, it was easier to get carried away by them.

He couldn't remember the times he had received genuine affection from anyone other than his friends. And that, if it could be called 'affection,' especially coming from people who have been twisted and traumatized their entire lives.

And he wished more than anything, that he didn't have to remember the person who had triggered his feelings in the first place.

Making them bloom, literally.

Making them painful every time he tried to breathe properly, catching his breath.

Why does forgetting have to be so difficult?

Pico sat on his bed, the room dimly lit by the evening sun filtering through the blinds. The walls were covered with posters of bands and concerts they used to talk about, each one a reminder of the past he couldn't escape.

He ran a hand through his fiery red hair, sighing deeply as memories flooded back.

They had attended the same school, a place where Pico's fierce demeanor often contrasted sharply with Boyfriend's easygoing nature. Yet, despite their differences, they had formed an unbreakable friendship. Music was their common ground, the language that bridged the gap between them as an alpha and omega.

Pico could still see Boyfriend's enthusiastic grin as they talked about new tracks, shared mixtapes, and spent countless hours in the school's music room, experimenting with beats and lyrics.

In those days, Pico often found himself drawn to Boyfriend's energy. He remembered how Boyfriend's eyes would light up when he got excited about a new song or when they nailed a particularly tricky beat.

It was infectious, and Pico couldn't help but feel a sense of pride whenever he saw Boyfriend thrive.

He also couldn't help but feel his lungs trapped into leaves that didn't let him breathe.

Pico's protective instincts also kicked in whenever Boyfriend faced trouble. He had defended Boyfriend from other alphas more times than he could count, his fists and sharp words always ready to ward off any threat.

It wasn't just about protecting a friend; it was about preserving the happiness that the omega brought into his life. Day. By. Day.

As these memories washed over him, Pico felt a tightness in his chest. He had always struggled with feelings, preferring to bury them deep rather than face the vulnerability they brought to him, to his fucking ego.

Admitting his love for Boyfriend, that fierce omega, had been the hardest thing he had never done. He had pushed those emotions aside, convincing himself that their friendship was enough, that Boyfriend's happiness with someone else didn't matter.

But it did matter. It mattered more than anything.

It mattered, It started to matter when his health began to be in danger when he was around.

My God, it was routine for him to spend time with Boyfriend during school. Why did it suddenly start to be harmful to him?

He believed that it would no longer matter when he decided to move to another city so he would no longer have to see him, so that he would not have to face the feelings he denied so much.

There was no warning, there was no goodbye, there were no calls or messages answered.

Not a single apology from him.

Pico stood up and walked over to his desk, where an old photograph lay. It was a picture of them together, laughing and carefree, taken during one of their many late-night jam sessions. He picked it up, tracing the outline of Boyfriend's face with his finger.

The pain in his heart grew stronger, and he clenched his jaw, trying to push it away as soon as he realized what he was doing.

"Why couldn't I just tell you?" Pico muttered to himself, frustration lacing his voice. "Why was I so scared?"

It had been a year since he walked away, trying to escape the feelings that threatened to consume him.

A year of solitude and vices where he attempted to forget his old friend, to bury the love that had taken root so deeply. Rooting from his lungs.

But the moment he saw Boyfriend again, standing with Girlfriend, an alpha who had already marked the omega, the dam broke.

He had felt it then, the unmistakable sensation of petals rising in his throat, choking him with unspoken words and unfulfilled desires.

It was painful as hell.

Pico's hand tightened around the photograph as he coughed, a single, delicate blue petal falling onto the desk.

Forget-Me-Nots.

The irony wasn't lost on him.