entangled in the roots of my love

Hanahaki

CW: Very brief mention of suicide

This was sent in as a request, and upon reading it I remembered that every 3-5 months, I stumble upon some tweet discussing the fanfic trope and the concept itself fascinates me. Truly much to think about. God knows why I want to try my hand at exploring this concept for this pairing out of literally any other pairing, but I'm going to at least start this anyways. (I'll just jump back and forth between this and the other requests I still have to finish based on how I feel.)

So while this is technically a request that got to skip the line, this is also extremely self-indulgent for me, which is why this is also a separate, stand-alone fic. Speaking of self-indulgence, I love floriography/flower languages, so maybe you want to keep that in mind.

A seed plants itself in the carrier's throat. Born out of "love", its roots dig deep into the esophagus as if it was soil. Before long, flowers bloom within, tickling the carrier's throat and causing them to cough up petals. If left unaddressed, that "love" will entangle itself within their victim to the point where they breathe their last unless the person they loved returns their feelings.  

Vernias had heard many stories about this phenomenon, especially when he was younger. It was the type of rumor made specifically for the people who were hungry for gossip, speaking in hushed tones as they glanced and pointed at the subject of their conversation. It was also almost unavoidable for him and all the other growing teenagers dealing with the sudden hormonal imbalance and desires that came with the age group. One year, rumors of a junior who supposedly suffered from the condition and had slit her throat over being rejected spread around his high school campus for at least a month. Another year,  a sophomore popular among his year had vanished, and speculations started flying around about him possibly catching that so-called disease, scrutinizing every relationship with every girl he had ever interacted with.

When people asked Vernias about his opinion on the matter, Vernias would say his condolences and then quickly dismiss the topic. He didn't like talking or thinking about Hanahaki disease, as most people had dubbed it, for very long. The experience of plants growing in someone's throat and the agony, both physical and mental, that came with it sounded awful. With the usual anguish from the thought of getting rejected for the person unlucky enough to catch the disease in the first place? The worry it must cause for the person whom the carrier's feeling were for? Forget it. Love almost seemed not worth it. It'd be easier to not love anyone ever.

Except Vernias couldn't imagine abandoning love. Love was supposed to be a beautiful thing. It was the sliver of sunlight that slipped through the window as the sun rose, prodding Vernias awake as he turned over to cuddle onto his would-be partner, whispering for just a few more minutes of their warmth. The coffee he'd pour out for both him and his would-be special someone as they quietly locked hands while talking about their plans for the day. The whisper of a promise made right before they kissed each other good night, happy and safe within each other's arms.

Vernias wasn't actively chasing love, but he did want to find love eventually. He hoped to eventually meet a person that he would not only click well with but also a person who would accept him for who he was. They wouldn't necessarily need to fully understand, but to just not judge him as a person. He'd gladly offer the same for them and do everything for their happiness.

Even if it meant eventually letting them go. After all, wasn't love supposed to be kind?

There wasn't supposed to be a price to love, and he didn't want there to be one. He'd love others because he wanted to love. Love should heal more rather than hurt and create more cherished memories rather than tear them apart. Vernias wanted to look forward to being in love.