Azalea Petals

three

Here comes more of the flowers, falling out of Jimin's mouth.

The pink petals stained with splashes of red, falling onto the toilet bowl under him. Emptying out the flowers inside of his stomach, he takes in deep breathes.

It hurts, so much. Not just as the stems scratched the inside of his skin, but at the fact that Yoongi would never love him back.

Jimin just knew that Yoongi wouldn't love him as much as he loved Hoseok, not the same way he would look at him with love in his eyes, the way that he would smile his signature gummy smile whenever he sees him, the way he would laugh whenever Hoseok would make a hilarious joke, the way he admires him and all that. Never once did he do that to Jimin. All that Jimin received from him was brotherly love and nothing more, nothing less, nothing that would heal Jimin's illness—nothing that would even affect it.

From crouching, his knees give in as it collapses onto the tiled floor. Jimin continued to stare at the flowers that were floating on the toilet water. Azaleas were such beautiful flowers, described to be an overwhelmingly positive plant, which was quite ironic as to why these flowers were the ones who were slowly killing him.

Earlier in the day, he went to the doctor for his check-up. Like every patient, they wanted to hear some good news about their sickness or their injuries, a positive report that they will get well soon.

It wasn't the case for Jimin though. Even if he hoped to hear some good news, he knew that he would never hear any from his doctor, especially since he was diagnosed with the infamous Hanahaki disease; and what he expected came true. His doctor told him that his condition was getting worse, that he only had around a week left before the flowers develop fully and before his clock stops ticking. He was warned that if he doesn't do anything immediately, then till then end, he would know nothing else but suffering.

The flowers were nearer than before, nearer to clot his lungs until he would eventually suffocate.

Tears of pain filled his eyes. As the teardrops rolled down his skin, he shut his eyelids, pressing his eyes against the heels of his palms. He lets out sobs, afraid of the fact that he was going to die soon.

Crying because his life was nothing but a garden, waiting to be planted on.

Hours ago, he was asked by his doctor if he wanted to go through surgery so that he could be cured of his sickness. If he does take the surgery, he indeed will be cured, but his feelings for Yoongi would disappear along with it, and he didn't want that.

It is true that he neither wanted to lose his feelings for the other nor to die a slow and painful death, but if he had to choose one, then he would rather die, bringing his feelings of Yoongi along with him.

That's how much he loved him, to the point that he would die for him.

After letting out a few more sobs, he moves his hands away from his eyes and looks back at the toilet. He noticed that there were stains of blood that scattered onto the bowl and a few specks that were stained on his hands. He was losing so much blood, no wonder he was getting weaker and weaker every day.

Jimin rested his back onto the wall, exhausted after coughing out all of those petals and flowers of Azalea. He only had a few days left, probably less than seven days even, but what could he do in his remaining time before the flowers come up to his lungs?

Should I call Yoongi and hang out with him? Maybe not...

Call Hoseok and talk to him about my sickness? No, I don't want him to worry...

Hangout with Taehyung after what seems like a while? Oh right, he moved to Japan with Jungkook.

Namjoon is taking his degree, Jin is out of the country too.

Jimin lets out a dejected sigh. It just came to his realization that he had no one else to be with. All of his friends are either out of the country or doing something else, busy or nowhere out of his reach. 

While all of them are out there either having fun or doing something useful with their lives, here is Jimin, sitting in his bathroom all alone, being a complete mess and doing nothing useful but wait until his time finally comes. Doing nothing special with the time he had left.

He closes his eyes. If he could just sleep until the day arrives, he would do so. He just wanted to rest inside his bathroom and rot in there. Maybe that would be better than anything else in the world right now since all he cared about at the moment was his death day.

Then he thought about it again, opening his eyes in an epiphany.

Why wait if I could just end it already?

Jimin weakly stood up. After flushing the toilet, he went up to his bathtub and turned the faucet on, filling it up with water. He listened to the running water, allowing himself to get lost into the sound of it.

He wanted to end his pain, he wanted to end the suffering, he wanted to get rid of the flowers once and for all. He had enough and he is tired of being sick with this stupid disease.

Once the tub was filled, he turned the faucet off. With his clothes on, he steps into the tub.

This was it.

For one last time, he replayed his memories with his best friends, with his family, all the good memories he had throughout the course of his life. 

Especially with Yoongi.

He thought of Yoongi, the person who changed his life. The one who lent his shoulder to him whenever he needed to cry. The one who hugged him whenever he needed hugs. He was there for him when no one else was. He supported him when no one else would. He lent a hand when he was in dire need of one.

Wouldn't it be a miracle if Yoongi saved him?

Impossible.

He was alone in his bathroom with no one else around. Even if he screams on the top of his lungs, no one would hear him because he was all by himself.

He was meant to be alone anyway.

With one long exhale of air, he dips himself underwater and inhales. 

It was his end, it was finally his end.

It was until he heard a muffled ringing from above the water.

It was my last breath.

I dipped into the water, with my final thought of you.

I wanted the unbearable pain to end after what seemed like an eternity.

I'm sick of throwing up these flowers, tired of feeling the stems and the petals coming up my throat.

All I had to do was inhale it all.

But you came to save me.

Why?

Why did you call?