His Jars of Hyacinths (STYLE)

21

POV: Kyle

"Mr Broflovski?" the man in white calls, poking his head through the doorframe to face the frail, sickly patients residing in the waiting room.

"Yep-, mhm," i awkwardly stand up, stepping over loose alphabet blocks on the carpeted floor, and heading through to follow the doctor.

he leads me into a closed off room, labelled "room D6", and locks the door behind me as i walk in.

i take a seat infront of his desk, and he sits by his laptop, starting to click away on his keyboard.

it's a moment of silence, before he speaks up.

"Kyle, is it?"

"Yeah." i nervously fidget with my hands, twirling my fingers together as i wait for the doctor to start a conversation.

"Nice to meet you, Kyle, I'm Dr Quinn, and I'll be helping you today. So, what's the problem... let's see..." Dr Quinn says, rummaging through some documents. "You said you've got the.. hanahaki disease?"

"That's right." i nod, watching the doctor sort out his papers into files.

"When did this start? Do you remember?"

"No, I don't. A while ago, I think, but it's worsening."

Dr Quinn writes something onto his paper, letting out a "hmm" to show he was listening. "And what symptoms have you been experiencing? Unusual ones, not the flowers."

"Uh... oh!" i look down at the jumper i chose to wear - it's warm, and comfortable, but completely inappropriate for the boiling heat of June. i take it off, holding my arms out to the doctor.

"Oh!" he says, looking closely at my veins. "Well that's interesting." leaning back in his chair, he continues scribbling notes onto his page.

"It started recently," i mention, pulling my arms back to dangle loosely at my sides.

"That's peculiar - not many people reach this stage without medical confrontation."

"Oh."

i knew i shouldn't've delayed this. fucking hell.

"Well, you're best choice would be to get the surgery done, since you don't have much time left." Dr Quinn says a bit too casually, looking back up at me with a bland expression on his face.

"Alright, and when can I get the surgery?"

"Well, we'll have to add you to the waiting list-"

another fucking waiting list.

"-but due to the urgency of your situation, I'd say... a week? Maybe two?" he tells me, flicking through the calendar attached to the wall.

"Okay, alright. What about my school?"

"You'll just have to go. Hope and pray."

"Right." we go to silence, as the doctor continues writing on his paper.

"I can offer you some medication to help with the vomiting. It won't stop the flowers from coming altogether, but it can lower the frequency that they occur." Dr Quinn suddenly speaks up, leaving me smiling and nodding in appreciation, then plunging us both back into silence.

he then starts talking again, "So, you can expect some blooming, but other than that, nothing significant should happen in the one or two weeks before your surgery."

"Okay. Wait wait wait-, blooming?"

--

i haven't been in school since the friday before the sleepover.

it's now thursday.

Stan's been texting me relentlessly, but i brush off his questions with a dry message, or saying i have to go.

i walk up to the bus stop, and the other three spot me quickly, slightly surprised.

"Kyle! We thought you died," Kenny muffles, waving hello.

i wave back, in my large, long-sleeved sweater.

"Kyle? Aren't you.. like... sweating?" Stan asks me, raising an eyebrow at my clothing choices.

"No." i respond bluntly, ignoring the sweat lining my face. Cartman just glares at me suspiciously, before turning back round to talk to Kenny.

when the bus pulls up, we all get on, and i take my usual seat next to Stan.

he takes the window seat, and i take the aisle seat. handing me one of his earphones, we sit together in silence, sharing Stan's music taste. and honestly, his songs aren't that bad.

"Hey, Ky?" Stan starts.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

i tilt my head, confused. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes?"

"Kay. You can tell me if not, but I won't push it." Stan smiles weakly at me, before leaning his head against the bus window, and closing his eyes.

i freeze for a moment, thinking. he cares for me. shrugging off the thought, i lean back in my seat, yawning as i do so.

the pills are helping.

"Three a day - breakfast, lunch, and dinner."

"Kyle? We're here," Stan pokes at my shoulder, and i take the earphone out my ear and pass it to the boy next to me.

"Oh, that fast?"

"Mhm."

we both stand up, edging out from behind the seats infront, and into the main aisle. we both step off the bus, thanking the driver as we pass, and heading to class.

it felt normal, like any other day.

until, the «blooming».

i felt it before it happened.

"Mr Garrison, can I go to the bathroom?" i ask rather quickly, already stuffing things into my bag.

"Yes, whatever Kyle, you can go to the bathroom, again." Mr Garrison responds, rolling his eyes.

i don't wait a second. i sling my bag over my shoulder and walk out the class before anyone could talk to me, and i instantly head to the bathroom.

discarding my bag to the floor beside me, i stand infront of the large, stretched mirror that hung on the bathroom wall. i clutch the sink infront, staring intently at my reflection.

and sure enough,

blooming.

[922 words]