Prinxiety One Shots

Hanahaki Disease

It had to happen eventually, didn't it?

Roman sat absent-mindedly at his desk, vacantly drawing something on a scrap of paper. Normally whenever he was creating something, his mind raced with ideas, like a blizzard of possibilities all fighting to be put into the world. Now? It was relatively quiet. He thought about nothing in particular and let his hands do the drawing.

It wasn't like his mind was just a blank slate or static on a TV screen. Just instead of the normal roar of ideas, there was only a whisper. A whisper about Patton, then maybe a whisper about Virgil, then it moved to his personal effect on Thomas, and yet on to something different. The nice thing about thinking without thinking is that the same concept never comes twice. And he never even had to tune in.

He looked down to see what he had made. It was a rough, sketchy outline of a rose. He debated what color to make it, because it was quite pretty, and it deserved color. He settled on purple and grabbed a colored pencil of every shade of it he could find.

Slowly and mindlessly, he traced over the outline of the rose with dark violet, then he did a flat layer of lilac. He filled in the shadows and light spots to give the flower depth and dimension, tucking away all of his pencils once he was satisfied.

He looked over it again. It was quite nice. He noticed that it matched Virgil's color scheme and decided to give it to him. It wasn't uncommon to the other Sides for Roman to hand out basic drawings, and they all enjoyed his art anyway.

Roman knocked on Virgil's door. He heard a slight grumble from inside in response and let himself in. The lights were dim and Virgil was laying on his bed, presumably listening to music.

"Sorry to intrude. I drew this, and I thought you might like it. It sort of suits you." He handed Virgil the small piece of paper. He sat up looked at it closely, taking out one earbud.

"This is really nice. Thank you, Roman." Usually, Virgil would never speak to Roman without some edge to his voice. And Roman knew that it was an honor for Virgil to take out an earbud. It was a small gesture but a meaningful one nonetheless. He also really appreciated that there was no snark in Virgil's voice. He didn't make a joke or anything. He must really have liked it.

"I'm glad you like it. I'll leave you to what you were doing." Roman left the room, closing the door behind him. He felt somewhat strange, but he couldn't quite place it. As he walked back to his desk, he thought more about Virgil. What had happened shouldn't have meant all that much to him, but it did. Every interaction they had meant something to him. He didn't know why.

He tried drawing again, but this time his brain was occupied with too many different things and his hand just wouldn't cooperate. He stood up before flopping down on his bed. He looked at the time. It was getting late anyway. He should go to sleep.

In the morning, he woke up to find himself curled into a ball, covered in blankets. He found himself being suddenly in the middle of a coughing fit. As he coughed, he thought about what was happening. Sides couldn't get sick. It was impossible.

As the coughing subsided, he looked at his hand. There sat a flower petal. He didn't know from what type of flower it was, but that hardly mattered. He tried to understand why there had been a flower petal lodged in his throat.

Then it clicked. He thought it was a myth. Hanahaki disease.

He tried to kid himself and act like he was surprised. He tried every way he could think of to convince himself that he didn't know why this was happening. But he knew. He always sort of had, deep down. He was in love with Virgil.

He panicked. He didn't want to tell anyone and make them worry. It was still early, and he most likely had a while to figure it out. But still, he needed to ask someone for help. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone.