Choking On Desire~ Woosan

🌺

The students looked in confusion and horror as the star basketball player of their college, the absolute heartthrob of the campus, dashed out of the cafeteria with a horrendous coughing fit. His close friend, Mingi, immediately rushed after him.

Murmurs immediately started echoing through the hall.

 A loud gasp grabbed the attention of the students who turned to look at a girl pointing towards where Choi San was previously sat with his friends.

A single lavender flower coated in crimson contrasted heavily against the white tiles of the college.

"Oh my god."

Wooyoung's brows furrowed as he stared at the bloody flower on the floor.

"He's coughing up flowers?" He mumbled.

"No, that's a seaweed."

Wooyoung shot Yeosang a blank stare who looked at him with an equally unimpressed one.

"He likes someone." Wooyoung wondered. The implication was simply too absurd. Wooyoung wouldn't call him a fuckboy per se but the older has had a reputation of being so called 'unattainable'. He was known for dating students- girls and boys alike- just for amusement and breaking up with them in less than 2 months. 

Partly why Wooyoung despised him so much. 

He was the last person Wooyoung would expect to get the disease. While getting diagnosed with hanahaki wasn't uncommon, it was still a rarity in their college.

"No. He's absolutely in love with that person." Yeosang corrected him nonchalantly, busy munching on his sandwich.

Now that was even more ridiculous.

"What are the symptoms of that disease again?"
Wooyoung turned to Yeosang who gave him an exaggerated look.

"Seriously Wooyoung?" Yeosang deadpanned. Wooyoung just shoved him with an eye roll.

"Bitch I don't remember. None of my close friends or relatives have been infected with it."

Yeosang sighed dramatically and continued inhaling that godforsaken sandwich. Wooyoung shot him a glare.

After taking his sweet time and finishing it, he straightened up.

"So basically when the person falls in love and their love is unrequited, they start coughing up petals and if their love is still not returned it gets worse over time and roots start to grow in their lungs and they cough out whole flowers instead."

Wooyoung winced. Roots growing in the lungs did not seem like a pleasant experience. At all.

"It's fatal right?" Wooyoung did not know many people who suffered with hanahaki. He had only heard stories from other people and watched films where the protagonists choke on flowers. Though no one had been dead in any of these instances.

"If their love is not returned then it is."

Wooyoung frowned. It seemed like every other person in this stupid college was head over heels for San. It didn't make any sense to him.

Wooyoung shook his head. It didn't concern him at all. It's not his problem so he pushed those thoughts aside and ran a hand through his purple hair with a sigh. 

"Serves him right, I guess." Wooyoung muttered under his breath.

 Ever since they knew each other- practically their whole life- San had somehow always managed to get on Wooyoung's nerves. From middle school to high school, they never saw eye to eye. Always at each other's throats for the smallest things much to their friends' annoyance. It became even worse when they ended up in the same fucking college and major too. It's like Wooyoung couldn't stay away from him no matter what. 

He heard Yeosang click his tongue in disapproval. 

"That's mean." 

Wooyoung just shrugged stiffly, eyes still on the flower. 

🌺

Wooyoung didn't regret taking dance as major, no. He chose what he loved and he loved dancing and performing. But that morning he almost considered dropping out of college because his lazy ass didn't want to get up at 7 in the morning to practice for their monthly evaluations.

Yes, he was dramatic like that. He just wanted to sleep peacefully without the annoying blare of his alarm ringing at obscene hours in the morning. Sue him.

With an ungraceful groan, he hauled himself up from the comfort of his bed and dragged his legs to the bathroom. After staring at his reflection in the mirror with a scowl for a good minute, he brushed his teeth and washed his face thoroughly. He stepped out and dried his face with a towel. His eyes fell on his roommate snoring like an old hag with asthma, his right arm dangling at the edge of the bed and his blanket holding on for dear life by his feet. Wooyoung's eyes narrowed in jealousy at the hideous sight so he did what a good friend would do and flinged the wet towel at him and smiled in victory when it smacked Seonghwa right in the face. 

The older boy flinched and his eyes shot open as he looked around alarmingly. 

"Huh- What the fuck, Wooyoung?" He grumbled as Wooyoung rolled his eyes and walked towards the small closet and picked out some black sweats and a lose white t-shirt. 

"It's 7 in the fucking morning. What do you want?" Seonghwa retorted. Wooyoung started undressing, ignoring the other boy's protests as he did so. Once he was dressed, he grabbed a simple silver chain from his drawer and put it on. 

"Don't you have classes to attend?" He asked, giving himself a nod while taking a final look in the mirror. 

"They start at 2 in the afternoon." 

Wooyoung laughed disbelievingly. Seonghwa gave him a nasty scowl, flipped him off and buried himself under the covers. 

"Fucking arts students." He mumbled, putting on his vans and headed out of the room. The practice room was fortunately not far away from his dorm. He plugged his earphones in and started walking, tapping his finger on his thigh to the song's rhythm. 

He entered the room and was about to sigh in relief when he found it empty but his eyes landed on a figure at the very corner, warming up to some r&b song. 

He quitely closed the door behind him but the other boy heard it and turned around to meet Wooyoung's eyes. 

San immediately winced at the sight of him. Wooyoung scoffed. 

"Well damn. You could at least try to pretend that you don't hate me." He said, walking to the other corner. 

"Why would I do that?" San's voice echoed through the room. Wooyoung rounded on him with a blank stare. 

"You're so mature, aren't you?" San only shrugged, lips curving up in a small smile. 

Wooyoung shook his head in defeat. 

"You are insufferable, you know that?"

"No. You're the only one who thinks that." San replied, eyes on his reflection as he moved his legs according to the slow beats of the song. 

"And I'm always right." Wooyoung responded, watching San's moves from across the room. 

"Sure," 

Wooyoung narrowed his eyes at the sarcastic answer and was about to snap back when San suddenly started coughing violently. Wooyoung froze. 

He had almost forgotten that San was sick with the wretched disease. Almost.

Unable to move or do anything, he stood there dumbly and stared at the other boy who was now crouched on the floor as he began choking. His eyes widened in horror as San coughed out lavenders which were covered in his blood. Snapping out of the trance, he immediately rushed to the boy and put a hand on his trembling shoulder. The action backfired as San began spluttering even harshly at the touch. His eyes welled up with tears and his face was contorted in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and gently pushed Wooyoung away from him. 

San stood up and staggered towards the door, avoiding Wooyoung's gaze. 

"San! Where are you going?" He called out, running after him. He followed the raven haired to the washroom and saw the boy rinse his mouth with a grimace. He took a few deep breaths with a slight frown on his face. It looked like even breathing was difficult to him. 

"Are you alright?" He asked hesitantly, unsure of what to say after witnessing that. "Why, er, why are you bleeding, aren't they just flowers—" Wooyoung started. San snorted and shot him that disdainful look Wooyoung knew all too well, and he felt the familiar hatred rearing up in his chest.

"Wooyoung," San looked at him, eyes cold and distant. "There are lavenders growing in my lungs. Their roots are crushing my heart and the stems pierce my throat everytime I breath. Compared to that, is a little bit of internal bleeding really so shocking?"

Wooyoung ripped his gaze away from his bloodied lips and instead looked at him in the eye. His eyes, Wooyoung observed, were sullen and hollow, contrary to the sharp tone of his voice. And really, Wooyoung should probably apologize and get away from there but his big fat mouth seemed to have other plans. 

"The only shocking thing about this is that you're capable of loving anything other than yourself," Wooyoung blurted out, more of instinct than indignation. 

San immediately started coughing, red liquid pooling at the corner of his lips. 

"You don't know anything about me, so I would appreciate it if you would leave me the fuck alone and take your insensitive ass somewhere else," He snapped, eyes glowering. 

"What?" 

San sighed, his shoulder slumping down and the grip on the sink loosening in defeat. He met Wooyoung's eyes in the reflection of the mirror. He looked exhausted. 

"I said go away. I can take care of it myself." 

Wooyoung looked at him in disbelief.

"Don't fool yourself. I'm not worried about you," He scowled, feeling his ears burn. 

"I know," San said flatly but his eyes were forlorn as he stared at Wooyoung for a moment then left the washroom. 

As Wooyoung stood there alone, only one question rang through his mind. 

Who is it?

🌺

San first met Wooyoung in middle school. The boy too loud and jolly for him to not notice. With round cheeks and a mole under is eye, his presence seemed to occupy every inch of the classroom. While San was broody and silent like a shadow, Wooyoung's laughter was sunshine personified, making friends everywhere he went.

Maybe that was the reason San started feeling envious whenever he saw Wooyoung giggling and talking animatedly about anything and everything. He wondered how can a person be so full of life and find beauty in every little thing in this unforgiving world. 

He didn't remember when they started bickering and fighting. They were always like this, as long as he could recall. It felt like he had known Wooyoung his whole life. But not as a friend, no. Instead the younger boy was a constant in his life. Ever since middle school and now in college. 

It was inevitable, really. Now that San thought about it. How could he not? The more they bantered, the more things San started noticing about him. The once round face had lost it's baby fat and looked like it had been chiseled by the Gods themselves. His prominent jaw and sharp but warm eyes. How they crinkled when he laughed a little too hard. How soft his hair looked. How San would have given his left arm just for the chance to run his fingers through it. How his eyes glinted when he talked to his friends about the things he was passionate about.

How beautiful Wooyoung was. How unfair it is that Wooyoung got to live so cheerfully while San spent his youth pining and choking on petals.

His chest tightened painfully. He coughed again for what seemed like the thousandth time that day. His throat was itching. He could feel the fucking flowers in his windpipe. San wanted nothing more than to rip them out and crush them beneath his feet. He should've known he was going to end up like this one day. Should've thought twice before falling for him so deep that flowers started growing in his lungs. 

He knew he did from the first moment they met. Not love at first sight, no. But familiarity. Like his heart already knew it was going to be him. As a pathetic attempt in denying it, he started dating people in hopes to fall for them instead. 

Another violent cough wracked through his body as he felt the flowers rising in his throat, making him choke on them. He rushed to the toilet and crouched down in front of it. He could taste the metallic burn of his blood mixed with the soft texture of the flowers as he retched up the lavenders. They reminded him of Wooyoung's hair. Bad idea.

He could feel the thorns and branches piercing his lungs and his chest felt like it was tearing apart. He sobbed as more petals wretched out of his mouth and onto the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his chest, hoping to lessen the pain. 

Distantly he heard the door to his dorm open and Mingi's deep, happy voice flowed through the room. He sighed in relief, trying to take in deep breaths but it turned out to be a mistake as his throat started squeezing and the stems were gnawing at his esophagus. He whimpered and clawed at his throat desperately in an attempt to get the petals out. 

"San?" He could barely make out his best friend's worried voice over the blood rushing in his ears. Footsteps grew closer and Mingi's gasp echoed in the small bathroom. He felt a strong arm wrap around his trembling figure. 

"Oh my God," He heard the taller's whisper above him and he pressed himself against his chest. 

"Fuck, Mingi. It hurts. It hurts so bad," San whimpered, clutching Mingi's shirt with shaking hands. 

"Wait here. Let me get a glass of water," He said and began pulling away from San who immediately reached out to grab his arm to stop him from moving further. "No, please. Stay here. It hurts," San whispered as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

The taller rubbed his back soothingly.

"I am not going anywhere, San. Just let me get you some water." Mingi said reassuringly and gently pried him off of his arms. "Don't move okay? I'm getting you a glass of water."

"Okay," San nodded and was left alone in the washroom. In less than a minute he heard the footsteps again and a glass of water appeared in his blurry vision. The thought of anything going down his throat made him want to throw up. Still, he took the glass and gulped down the water, wincing as the liquid burnt his throat. Once the glass was drained he held it out for Mingi.

"Thanks. Can you...?" He trailed off as he struggled to stand.

Mingi caught him by the waist and supported him easily, helping him walk back into the bedroom and lay down on the bed. For a moment Mingi didn't say anything and San could almost hear the thoughts running in the other's head. He knew what he was about to say next.

"It's getting worse," Mingi stated staring at San who nodded and averted his eyes.

"San, you can't keep going on like this. It-"

"Mingi, please." San cut him off, knowing very well where this conversation was headed to. It was not the first time. It never got easier, though. As days passed by, he could see his friends getting increasingly uncomfortable with his current situation. It hurt them as much as it hurt him. And he hated it.

"Please. Don't tell me I need to get it removed,"

Mingi shook his head vehemently. "But you need help. Your coughing fits are becoming progressively worse and you're choking on full flowers now,"

San sighed.

"We have talked about this. I am not changing my mind."

Mingi glared at him exasperatedly. San stared back with equal intensity.

"You're dying, San! What part of having flowers in your lungs don't you understand? They will only continue to grow. He's killing you!"

"He's not." San snapped back immediately. "It's not his fault,"

Mingi sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Sorry, I just- I am worried about you, okay? It hurts me seeing you go through the pain everyday. I know how it feels and it's the worst thing I have ever experienced. How are you doing this?"

San knew. San knew what Mingi had gone through. He was there with him all those nights on the bathroom floor as Mingi coughed out cherry blossoms. San still remembered how his heart would break everytime his best friend choked on them and cried for hours in San's arms. But he had decided to get the surgery done and came out with no feelings whatsoever for the girl he once loved but ended up with a scar in the middle of his chest.  

San's blood ran cold at the mere idea. 

"I am not getting the surgery." He said with finalty. 

"You can't go on like this! These fucking flowers kill you!" Mingi yelled. 

San knew. He knew very well what hanahaki does to a human. He knew that if he didn't get the surgery he will die. And if he did get the surgery everything will go away. Everything. 

"I can't forget him." San gulped.

Mingi inhaled and shut his eyes. After a few seconds, he opened them and and spoke calmly.

"You won't forget him. You will just-" 

"No. I can't forget how it feels like to love him. I can't." 

Wooyoung was too well woven into his soul. Not loving Wooyoung would feel like an essential part of it had been ripped out, leaving him hollow and unfilled. Loving him was beautiful as much as it was painful. And San would rather die by these flowers than live like that. Like an empty vessel. 

So, he held onto to the pain because that was all he had of him.

🌺

Wooyoung didn't know what bothered him more; the fact that San is capable of feeling so strongly about someone or the fact that this someone didn't reciprocate his feelings. At all. 

San would be the last person he would've expected to get diagnosed with the disease. Wooyoung didn't see the problem. San would just have to confess to the object of his affection and he could bet his left arm that they would immediately fall at his feet and say that they love him back. 

Unless they knew San like Wooyoung did. Unless they knew how aggravating it can be to simply have a conversation with him. How he managed to get under his nerves with a simple glance. 

"OW Fuck-"Wooyoung yelled as the hot liquid spilled over his fingers. Hissing under his breath, Wooyoung placed the mug on the counter and rinsed his hand under the cold, tap water. He didn't realize he had been gripping the mug tightly. He huffed in irritation. San, even while not being present with him, managed to bring himself to the forefront of his thoughts. Wooyoung groaned and ran a hand through his hair. It was getting long. 

"Did you finally reach your breaking point?" A deep voice resonated across the dorm.

"Shut up, Yeosang." He snapped and took a sip of his coffee, letting it burn as it went down his throat. Wooyoung hummed in satisfaction. Yeosang hopped on the counter beside Wooyoung. 

"Guess what happened at practice today." He asked, dangling his legs as he did so. 

"Did Seonghwa finally decided to grow some balls and ask you out?" Wooyoung giggled at Yeosang's red face. The older just shoved him with a scowl. 

"No. I am sure he doesn't think of me that way." He mumbled with a dejected frown. Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

"Well, I don't see you coughing out flowers," He said, trying not to think about a certain someone who was suffering with that.

"It's not like I'm in love with him or something. Flowers don't grow in your lungs over silly crushes." The blond mumbled. 

"Are you sure it's just a silly crush?" Wooyoung suggested, wiggling his brows exaggeratedly. 

"As I was saying," Yeosang ignored the implication and continued. "San fainted at practice today," 

Wooyoung froze. Sometimes he forgot Yeosang was also in the basketball team along with San. 

"Oh," He let out, forcing his body to relax. "And why are you telling me this?" 

Yeosang shrugged casually though his eyes remained on Wooyoung, gauging his expression. Wooyoung felt oddly exposed under his stare. 

"Just thought I should let you know. Might be the best news you have heard this week," 

Wooyoung forcefully let out a chuckle that sounded fake even to his own ears. Yeosang was still observing him with careful eyes. 

"Yeah. Made my day." He replied, voice tight. He frowned at his own actions. Why was his stomach churning uncomfortably?

And most importantly, instead of being glad, why did he feel uneasy at the news?

🌺

"It's too risky," A serene voice filled in the room. San felt uneasy as his head pounded mercilessly. He slowly opened his eyes and was met with blaring lights of the medical room almost blinding him. He cursed under his breath, trying to recall how he ended up there. He looked to his side to find a tube connected in his arm to what he assumed was an IV drip. 

"What do you mean it's risky? What can be more risky than death itself?!" His mother's voice echoed through the room. San winced. 

The nurse cleared her throat. "We were able to complete a full diagnostic exam, and getting the surgery is not recommended." 

He could hear his mother's annoyed sigh. 

"If your son consents to the procedure then we'll have no choice but to abide by his wishes but it will pose a greater threat to his overall wellbeing," 

"And why is that?" His mother snapped.

"The procedure involves surgically removing the disease," The nurse explained at a clipped pace. "Which means that the roots, flowers and seeds would be extracted along with the emotional cause of the disease. Simply put, your son's feelings for his beloved would be gone."

San gulped, his throat itched painfully. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore the throbbing in his chest. 

"That's what we want, yes." She clapped back. irritation seeping into her tone. 

That's not what I want.

"Yes. But here's the problem. The X-ray shows that the roots of the flowers are very deeply entrenched in his lungs, the love that he feels for this person is an integral part of his being and ripping it away would be disastrous for his body and mind." 

San inhaled sharply. 

Integral part of his being.

"So, the procedure works only on people who just got sick?"

"Certainly not. But a love so strong and lasting is much risky to extract than, say, an infatuation. San has probably loved this individual for a very long time and ripping it away is quite tricky. The memories of his former beloved might be gone or his ability to ever love again would be over," He could hear his mother gasp. San pursed his lips and cleared his throat. 

"Mom," He called out. The curtains immediately flew open and his mother's worried face came into sight. 

"Oh, San," She whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss on his forehead. Her eyes were glossy and her lips wobbled as she took in his state. 

"My little boy," She whispered brokenly before turning away from him and wiping away tears. The nurse looked like she wanted to leave but didn't. She instead stood behind his mother's shoulder.

San sighed and shifted uncomfortably as the pressure on his arm increased.

"You must be feeling better now," The nurse said gently. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," San replied, looking at his mother's teary eyes. His heart squeezed inside his chest. 

"Okay, stay here for a while. I'll give you some painkillers and tablets. Your coughing fits should be under control for a few hours." The nurse informed, scribbling something on the writing pad in her hand. "Though, I must inform you, repressing it would only make them worse later. Do you still want it?" 

San could only nod weakly. "I don't think I'll be able to get up right now. And my chest is paining a lot. I need the painkillers, please,"

She left them alone. His mother sat on the stool beside the bed and caressed his hair gently. He could tell what her mother was thinking. 

It wasn't good. She was afraid he wouldn't survive this ordeal. He hated to admit but she had a point. It was very risky. San closed his eyes and focused on the ceiling to keep himself from crying.

"It was so close..." He mumbled under his breath. "There was so much blood...it was everywhere. It made me feel nauseous." 

His mother looked stricken at his words. She pulled San into a tight hug and held him against herself. San pressed his cheek against her shirt.

"You could get the surgery done, honey," 

San sighed.

"I can't see you like this. The nurse told me you have less than two weeks left until the roots suffocate your lungs completely." She sniffed, pressing herself closer to her son. San felt her trembling body over him. 

"Mom, I don't want to. You already know I won't." He said quietly. He knew that she did not wish to let go either. She was clinging on to hope for the both of them. San wished for the same thing.

"Is it worth your life, San? Is it really?" She asked shakily, her voice so uncharacteristically small that San almost felt guilty for putting his mother through this. But he nodded, a single tear fell from his eye.

"He's worth everything, mom. Even my life."

She smiled sadly and kissed his temple. San heard a click and turned to look at the door. The nurse entered holding a tray filled with bottles of pills.

"I need to administer the medication first, okay? Please sit still, San." The nurse said softly as she walked toward him. San obliged and watched as she removed the tubes from his arms one by one. He couldn't feel them anymore and felt numbness spread across his body. San closed his eyes and leaned back in his pillow with a sigh.

"You're doing great," The nurse assured, smiling down at him. San returned the smile with a small one.

"What time is it?" He asked dully. The nurse glanced at her wristwatch.

"It's 1 pm," She replied handing him a pill. He took and swallowed it. His mother handed him a glass of water which he gratefully accepted.

"I need to get to class," He mumbled, getting up. His mother immediately stopped him from moving any further.

"San, you can't go anywhere in this state! You have to rest for a while," She exclaimed. San sighed and placed a reassuring kiss on her knuckles.

"I'll be fine. And besides the nurse said I won't be coughing flowers for a few hours at least, right? Don't worry,"

She frowned at him uncertainly making San giggle. He gave her another quick peck before exiting the medical ward. 

He walked down the hall, taking slow steps until he reached his classroom. He pushed open the doors and went inside. The room was packed. The students immediately stopped as he entered. He was used to the attention at this point. Even before the news of the disease spread, people looked at him in awe everywhere he went.

He walked towards the empty bench and sat down. The teacher quickly arrived and took attendance. The teacher started speaking and San zoned out. He was still tired. So much so, that he didn't notice the door open and someone walking towards him. When his eyes caught Wooyoung's he nearly jumped off the seat.

Wooyoung looked at him quizzically but quickly realized why. San was slumped against the wall, head resting on his hand as he stared blankly ahead. He looked exhausted. He still felt very weak as if all the energy had been squeezed out of him. 

The purple haired boy quitely sat beside him. His fingers were fidgeting nervously as they always did when he was nervous. San waited patiently.

"I just want to say that I'm sorry for that day." Wooyoung's timid voice broke his train of thought. "I shouldn't have said that. That was very rude of me,"

San paused. He examined the younger's features carefully. He placed a hand on Wooyoung's temple and frowned.

"Are you alright? Did you hit your head or something?" He asked genuinely. It was funny how Wooyoung's face immediately went from apologetic to disbelief.

"Here I am crushing my pride and trying to apologize to you and you question whether I had a concussion. God, why did I even try?" He groaned, running a hand through his purple hair. San cackled loudly, earning a few looks from the other students and a glare from the teacher. He whispered a quite sorry under his breath. Wooyoung only rolled his eyes.

A few moments passed where none of them said anything. Wooyoung's eyes were on the teacher, seemingly listening to whatever she was saying. But San noticed his teeth digging in his lower lip. He did that whenever he was uncertain about something. It was scary how well San could read the other.

As expected, Wooyoung cleared his throat and leaned closer to him.

"I heard you fainted at practice today?" His voice was nonchalant but his eyes were sharp. He sounded curious. San bit his lips to refrain from smiling.

"It wasn't a big deal. I skipped breakfast this morning. Might have been because of that," He effortlessly lied through his teeth. Afterall, lying was easier than telling the truth. Wooyoung studied him skeptically but thankfully he seemed to accept his answer. His gaze lowered to their laps as he continued biting his lip.

"Do you have any plans after classes?" Wooyoung asked suddenly, his gaze fixed firmly at the wall opposite him. San raised an eyebrow, his stomach swooped and he found himself staring at the other boy's profile. When he got no answer, the younger turned to look at him. San immediately averted his eyes and looked at the book on the desk.

"Well, do you?" Wooyoung asked, irritation seeping into his voice.

San shrugged. "No, I guess not." San replied softly. Wooyoung huffed.

"I wanted to try out this new recipe I saw the other day. I want someone to try it. And if it turns out to inedible then at least I wouldn't feel sorry for food poisoning you," Wooyoung replied in a stoic voice. The apple of his cheeks were a bright shade of red.

"Hey, don't you think it's rude to poison an already dying man?" He asked, his lips curved up in amusement. Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. He slapped his arm with a disbelieving look on his face.

"You can't just joke about it like that!" He hissed, his entire face burning crimson. San had to physically resist himself from squeezing his cheeks.

"Ouch. What are you gonna do? Kiss it better?" San snorted quietly, trying to suppress his giggles. Wooyoung's face immediately twisted in a grimace. San ignored the jab in his chest and instead laughed harder at Wooyoung's reaction.

"If you want to die so badly then go ahead. See if I care," He muttered indignantly. San winced as a sharp pain shot through his lungs. He turned away from Wooyoung and cleared his throat in an attempt to sooth the burning in his chest. He sighed in relief when he saw that Wooyoung had not noticed the sudden bout of pain. 

They bickered for the rest of the period until the bell rang. Wooyoung stood up and began collecting his things. San tried not to let it dampen his mood. Just as the younger was about to walk out, he turned back and gave him a blank stare. 

"Come to my room after you're done with your classes," He said and rushed outside. San ignored the butterflies in his stomach and started packing up. All while a stupid smile graced his lips. 

He just hoped the lavenders inside his body wouldn't act up in the younger's presence. 

🌺

Wooyoung was insane. There could be no other explanation for why he had suddenly decided to invite San to his dorm. He just wanted to make up to him for being kind of rude. That's it. 

 He whined as he continued cleaning the small space he shared with Seonghwa who was thankfully out with his friends. He didn't even want to imagine the absolute humiliation he would experience if the older boy saw Wooyoung cooking for San in their own dorm. Not when Wooyoung had expressed time and time again how he found the other boy so infuriating and insufferable. 

Yes, that would be enough reason for him to bury himself 6ft under in embarassment. 

He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. It was 4. San's classes were over by this time(don't ask Wooyoung how he knows this).

A knock resonated through the living room making Wooyoung jump. He cursed under his breath and quickly looked around the room. He ran a hand through his hair hastily, trying to make it presentable enough. He had to remind himself that there was absolutely no reason for him to be so nervous. 

Wooyoung sprinted across the room to open the door. San stood there with hands stuffed in his pockets, looking so collected that Wooyoung felt almost ashamed at himself for being so on edge in his own space. He subtly took in San's appearance and cleared his throat. He was clad in casual baggy jeans and a gray cardigan that he somehow managed to make it look elegant. He also couldn't help but notice how skinny San had become. 

Now that Wooyoung observed him, the slight height difference that had always irked him was even more distinguishable at that moment. 

"Are you gonna let me in or...?" San's smooth voice pulsated in his ears, making him snap out of his zone effectively. 

Has his voice always been so soft?

Shut up, Wooyoung.

"Just come in," He mumbled and stepped aside to let him in. San removed his shoes and walked inside. He looked around and let out a low whistle. 

"This place is surprisingly clean for someone like you," He commented, taking in his surroundings. Wooyoung scorned. 

"I'm actually a very clean person, you know?" He retorted defensively. San only raised his brows.

"Sure,"

Wooyoung squinted his eyes. "Really,"

"Yes, Wooyoung. I believe you," San asserted, eyes boring into Wooyoung's own. The younger stood there, trying to come up with a another snarky remark. 

Anything to avoid this heavy, uncomfortable stillness that suddenly engulfed them as San continued to stare at Wooyoung with an unreadable countenance. 

Wooyoung averted his eyes, feeling his ears burn in discomfort. 

"So," He started, walking to the small kitchen adjoining the living room. "I saw this really tempting recipe for chicken bulgogi the other day and I wanted to try it. It's been so long since I cooked." He rambled, still avoiding the other's gaze. 

"It still baffles me to think you know how to cook," San said, leaning against the counter and folding his arms over his chest. Wooyoung turned to look in his direction, his left eye twitching at the goofy smile on his face. 

"Do you ever, you know, shut the fuck up?" 

San cackled loudly, the sound bouncing of the walls and in his ears. Wooyoung pretended to not notice the breathlessness in his voice after he was done laughing. 

Instead, he washed the raw chicken in the sink, ignoring San's eyes boring in the back of his head. 

"Instead of standing there like the useless shit that you are, you could at least chop the vegetables to make yourself useful," Wooyoung said. 

"Yes Sir," 

Wooyoung bit his lips to refrain from smiling. He heard some shuffling in the back and when he turned around to see what was the matter, he immediately regretted his decision. 

He came face to face with San, making him gasp subconsciously. San stood way too close to him that he could count the delicate lashes and spot a tiny mole on his cheek. He could catch his reflection in the other's eyes and notice the way they peered at him with something akin to softness. 

"Knife,"

Wooyoung blinked. 

"What?" His voice came out in a whisper. 

San nudged his chin to the drawer beneath the sink Wooyoung was standing in front of. He immediately moved out of the way and tried to catch his breath. His heart hammered inside his chest so loudly that he thought San surely heard it. 

"Thanks," San said and began cutting the spring onions while Wooyoung stood there, unable to process what just happened. 

"You okay there?" San called out, glancing at him for a second then going back to chopping the veggies. Wooyoung cleared his throat and swiftly returned to the task in hand. 

"Why wouldn't I be?" He mumbled, focusing solely on the damn chicken. The only response he received was a quite 'hmm'. 

They worked in silence until Wooyoung couldn't stand it and began rambling about whatever came to his mind. Initially, it was to break the somewhat awkward silence that fell upon them but Wooyoung eventually realised he was talking just because he wanted to. He also learnt that San, contrary to Wooyoung's bigoted judgements, was a pretty avid listener. Asking him small questions and humming once in a while to let him know that he was listening to what Wooyoung had to say.

A pleasant surprise, if you asked him. 

They'd bump their shoulders every now and then while working, making Wooyoung giggle uncharacteristically.

God, what was wrong with him today?

Instead of teasing him, like he so often did, San would just throw him an amused smile and get back to his task, almost as if he was avoiding looking at Wooyoung for too long. 

It also didn't go unnoticed by the younger boy how San seemed to coughing very frequently too. Though, not a single flower nor a petal made it's way out of his mouth. Wooyoung wondered if he was deliberately forcing them down with every pained swallow he did when he thought Wooyoung wasn't looking. 

He felt a twinge of sympathy surface his gut and almost let his intrusive thoughts take over to ask him who it was. Who was making those flowers sprout in his body? And if San had tried talking to them. He wondered if that would be too invasive of him. They weren't even close. Far from it actually. Not to mention, Wooyoung was the last person San would open up to. So he smothered the impulse and instead tried to subtly get him to rest for a bit.

"I think we're almost done. You could go and prepare the table? I'll do that," He suggested, walking over to where San was stirring the chicken in the pan. San looked at him for a moment and shrugged, handing over the wooden spoon to him. 

After setting the table, they settled down to finally taste the bulgogi that looked really fucking delicious. San took the first bite and Wooyoung looked at him in anticipation, eyes wide and curious. 

His face remained expressionless as he chewed it thoroughly, much to Wooyoung's impatient tapping on the table. 

"Well?" He insisted.

San looked at him and the corner of his lips curved up into a barely visible smile. His brows raised up in surprise.

"As much as it kills me to admit, this is actually so good." He said, pointing at his plate and picking up another piece with his chopsticks.

Wooyoung's eyes lit up at the compliment and he immediately digged in. He usually didn't think his cooking was anything spectacular but receiving validation from those who tried his dishes still felt rewarding. As they ate in silence, the soft smile directed at him went unnoticed by the younger.

The calm ambience was shattered by a violent coughing fit that caught Wooyoung off guard. San immediately grabbed a tissue and pressed it to his mouth. The white material was stained red as crimson-coated petals fell on it. He wiped his lips, crushing them in his hand and continued eating like nothing happened. Wooyoung quickly got up and brought him a glass of water. 

"Here, drink this," He slid the glass across the surface. San nodded and gulped down the water, wincing as he did so. San avoided his eyes as he muttered a quite 'thanks' under his breath and continued eating. 

Wooyoung frowned. How bad was it? How much did it hurt? 

"Have you-" Wooyoung began, clearing his throat. "Why don't you just tell them? You know, the person you're in love with," 

San's face changed completely. Whatever ounce of warmth or comfort he was sporting, vanished in an instant. His eyes become distant again. Wooyoung almost flinched at the sudden change in the mood.

"Your ignorance is truly admirable," San said, gaze hardening. "Do you think I'm fond of having these roots grow in my body and wait for them to ultimately crush my lungs and heart? Don't you think I would have already confessed if I knew for sure that they would reciprocate my feelings?" 

"If you confess, then at least you will be certain. You never know. Maybe they love you back or at least they're willing to try. If they don't then y-" Wooyoung started desperately.

"Oh yeah, if they don't then I'll get sicker. I'm already suffering, what's a little more?" San sneered, eyes raking all over Wooyoung's face. 

"What? No- That's not what I-"

San's face twisted into something painful as he suddenly started choking. The noise sounding harsh and scratchy. His hands were trembling slightly as they clutched the fabric of his sweater. Wooyoung stared at him in horror, unable to move or do anything- anything- to help him. 

Blood pooled at the corner of lips while San coughed incessantly. Wooyoung stood up, rushed to his side and rubbed his back, trying to lessen the pain. It only seemed to worsen the coughs and the next thing he knew, a full bloomed bloodied lavender dropped on the table. 

"Fuck-" He cursed under his breath. San was swallowing hard, gasping for breath every time he had a chance. He stood up abruptly, causing the chair to fall back to the ground and sprinted to the bathroom. Wooyoung followed after him only for the door to be slammed in his face. 

"San, let me in! Open the fucking door-" He banged on the door as his coughing fits seemed to be getting worse, his voice sounded too hoarse making Wooyoung wince. His heart hammered in his chest and he couldn't hear anything else above the blood roaring in his ears. The only consistent thought in his brain at that moment was San. 

San was dying, he was bleeding. He was hurting. He cannot breath. 

"PLEASE, SAN! Open the door, please. Let me help you!" He yelled, thumping his fists on the door until he couldn't feel his hands anymore. The only indication that San was alive was his shallow breathing and his silent sobs that echoed through the small and empty dorm room. 

Wooyoung ran his fingers through his hair frustratingly, guilt clawing at his heart making it strenuous for him to think rationally. He knocked on the door weakly, fingers trembling against the wood. 

"San, please. I am sorry-" Another wretched gasp. Wooyoung squeezed his eyes shut, unable to do anything but to listen to him retch and throttle the flowers. The sound so gut-wrenching that it almost physically hurt him to hear it. He slid down the door and sat against it, with his head in his hands as his fingers pulled at his roots. 

"Open the door, please. Fuck! Just-" 

"Mingi," A feeble whisper startled Wooyoung. He jumped and pressed himself closer to the door, straining his ears to make out the words, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

"M-Mingi. Call Mingi-" His voice was sore and worn out. Wooyoung frowned. He had never talked to Mingi before. He didn't even have his number.

"How? I don't have his contact!" 

"My phone. 2611," He answered, followed by a horrifying strangling sound and Wooyoung could picture San curled up on the bathroom floor, retching out bloody lavenders and branches. He winced at the picture.

He found the other's phone and quickly typed in the pin and scrolled through his contacts until he found Mingi's number. Wasting no time, he held the phone to his hear while anxiously biting his nails. His eyes were still on the door, grasping for any kind of sign that San was still conscious.

"Hello-"

"Mingi!" Wooyoung rushed, voice relieved and panicked at the same time. He could hear his confused hum from the other line.

"Who are you? Where is San?" The protectiveness in his tone threw Wooyoung for a second before he shook his head and tried to breath normally in order to tell Mingi about the situation.

"I'm Wooyoung. He is here with me right now and I- I don't know what happened, he started coughing out flowers and now he's locked himself in my bathroom. H-He won't open the door. I tr-"

"What?" The sheer rage in his voice startled Wooyoung. He had never heard him sound so serious before. Mingi was always the goofy, popular kid who seemed like he didn't have a care in the world. This was nothing like the Mingi he had seen hanging out with San and Yunho, laughing and making unfunny jokes that no one appreciated. 

"Where is he?" 

"In my dorm. Room 118," He said hurriedly. The line immediately went silent and Wooyoung realised that he had cut the call. Tossing the phone on the couch, he rushed to the bathroom door, banging it loudly. 

"San! Did you hear that? Mingi's coming. You'll be fine, okay? San?" He called out, hating how his voice trembled. When there was no response from the other side, he pressed his ear against the door, trying to pick out any minor sound of breathlessness or choking or anything to make sure that San was still with him. 

Silence. He couldn't even hear his breaths. 

 Wooyoung's heart rate picked up the pace when he received no reply whatsoever. His hands began sweating as he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

Eyes widening in panic, his fists hammered on the door alarmingly. 

"SAN? CAN YOU HEAR ME?!" Dread settled in the pit of his stomach, giving it a violent lurch. He looked around the room in urgency, the helplessness of the situation made him want to rip his hair out. He slammed his hands repeatedly on the door ignoring the stinging, until he couldn't feel them anymore. 

"Please say something. Anything," He whimpered as his vision started to get distorted. Wooyoung harshly wiped the tears away and continued banging on the wood like a madman.

 "CHOI SAN! YOU BETTER NOT DIE IN MY FUCKING ROOM. I'LL KILL YOU. I-" Wooyoung legs gave out as he fell on the ground, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. His hands never left the barrier that was separating them. He tried to turn the doorknob, but in vain. The door was locked. All his energy was drained, his body felt weightless. His hands tapped on the wooden surface limply. 

The main door abruptly slammed open, making Wooyoung flinch. Mingi's tall figure came into view and Wooyoung sighed in relief. His tired eyes met the redhead's worried ones. 

"He's in here. He won't r-respond. He's not saying anything. I tried, I'm so sorry. I really-" 

"Shut up," His rambling was cut off by Mingi's deep voice. He glared at Wooyoung, gaze hard and accusing. Wooyoung curled his arms around himself in defense. 

"Move," 

Wooyoung stepped aside and watched in amazement as Mingi kicked the door with all his strength. The hinges snapped as the door burst open in a loud crash, startling the younger. Mingi rushed inside and Wooyoung followed him. 

The sight that greeted him would haunt him forever. 

A frightened gasp escaped his lips as he slapped his hand on his mouth, trying to muffle the surprised scream that almost left his throat. 

The pristine white tiles of the bathroom were covered in crimson blood. So much blood, it made Wooyoung dizzy. Swimming in the thick liquid were lavenders. There were lavenders everywhere, as far as his eyes could reach. And in the middle of the mess, laid San, curled up against the wall. His arms were wrapped around his frame and his mouth was brutally stretched open as a thick branch sprouted from his blood-coated lips, germinating another lavender at the end of the offshoot. 

Wooyoung's knees nearly gave out at the torturous sight. He could faintly hear Mingi calling out his name but even for the life of him, he couldn't move, eyes transfixed on San's weak figure. He looked drained, like all the life had been sucked out of him along with the blood that pooled around his body. His skin looked uncharacteristically pale in contrast to the angry red liquid that stained his cardigan and jeans. 

"WOOYOUNG!" The booming sound broke him out of his frozen state and he looked at Mingi who was crouched over his friend's unconscious figure, his sneakers drowning in the pool of blood.

"Snap out of it and help me carry him," 

Wooyoung nodded and carefully walked inside, grimacing as his bare feet came in contact with the warm liquid. Snaking his arms under his armpits, Wooyoung hauled him up with the help of Mingi supporting his legs and waist. 

The branch shooting from his mouth was way too close to Wooyoung's face. He felt nausea creeping up his head. From this angle, he could clearly see how the shoot had forced itself through his lips and God, did it look disturbing to say the least.

 His body felt weightless in his arms as they carried him to the medical room, earning horrified looks from students in the hallways. Wooyoung ignored the gasps and whispers, focusing only on San's shallow breathing, the way his chest rose and fell with every intake of breath. Wooyoung tried to regulate his own breathing, tried to disregard the dreadful weight on his heart. 

Mingi was no better himself, hands trembling where they were wrapped around his legs and waist. His eyes were unwavering from his friend's miserable state but Wooyoung could see the silent tears rolling down his cheeks. 

Entering the infirmary, they were once again greeted with shocked gasps. The nurse's eyes widened, face aghast as she quickly cleared a bed and the boys gently lowered San on it. The white sheets of the bed were immediately stained red. 

"Oh my- What happened?" She whispered, eyes scanning his body in a hurry. "Did he get rejected?" 

Mingi couldn't say anything. He only stared at Wooyoung, eyes blazing in accusation. The nurse met his eyes, putting him on edge. Wooyoung looked between the two defensively. 

"I-I swear I didn't do anything. We were just talking and suddenly he started coughing and before I knew it, he was choking on full flowers. He rushed to the bathroom and locked it, not letting me in. I tried to help him, I swear. I didn't know it-it was that bad. Please, I'm sorry. I-" He rambled on, feeling an unexplainable wave of dread crash over him. The nurse sighed and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Wooyoung realized he was shaking. 

"I didn't mean to blame you. It's not your fault-"

"Excuse me?" Mingi sneered, eyes wide as another tear rolled down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away. "What do you mean? It's literally his fault! He is the reason San's dying! HE'S KILLING HIM!" Mingi bellowed, jabbing a finger in Wooyoung's chest. 

"Mingi." The nurse warned. "That's enough."

Wooyoung's blood ran cold as his entire world came to a screeching hault. The shock coursed through him slowly like raindrops sliding down the window. He stood there, unblinking, trying to process what Mingi just said.

He's killing him. It's his fault.

Just like that, the realization striked him square in the chest, making him stumble from the sheer force of it. San's defensiveness when he had told him to confess, Yeosang's scrutinizing stare when he had informed about San passing out, Mingi's furious voice when he found out that San was with Wooyoung. His accusatory glare. Everything made sense now.

How could he be so stupid? 

He had told him he wouldn't care if he died. Wooyoung would never forgive himself for that. 

"-very dangerous. We have to take him to the hospital." The nurse's voice cut through the heavy fog of his mind. "He has already lost too much blood."

She stepped outside, mumbling something about removing the branch. Mingi's eyes were unwavering from San's figure and Wooyoung couldn't do anything, feeling like someone had splashed ice-cold water at him. He stood there frozen, heart hammering in his chest so wildly that he was sure Mingi could hear it. 

The nurse came inside with a hideous looking tool which looked like something used during farming and a roll of bandage gauze in the other hand. Another caregiver followed her. 

"I will have to uproot the branch before we can take him to the hospital." She informed. already setting up the tool and bandages near the bed. 

"It is not a very pleasant sight so I advice you to wait outside and call his mother in the meantime,"

The curtains were shut and Wooyoung dragged his feet unwillingly. Mingi following right behind him, taking out his phone and dialing a number which he assumed was San's mother's. 

Wooyoung leaned against the wall, unable to support his legs anymore he slid down to the ground. Trembling hands appeared before his eyes. Coated in blood. In San's blood. 

He squeezed his eyes, trying to shut out the horrid images of San laying in a pool of blood. Roots growing inside him, crushing his organs. Flowers, whose seeds Wooyoung had planted. It's his fault. 

"Hello, Mrs. Choi. I-" Mingi took a deep breath, eyes flitting around impotently. Wooyoung felt another wave of guilt sway his mind. 

"You need to come to the campus, right now. San is not in a good state." Mingi's words quivered. "She says he has to be admitted in a hospital right away," A pause. 

"Okay," With that, Mingi hung up the phone. 

They were engulfed in an agonizing silence. Wooyoung half expected Mingi to start yelling at him, accusing him for doing this to his friend. Instead he stayed quite, hands balled into fists and eyes boring holes in the ground. Wooyoung figured he should say something - apologize- but all the words died at the tip of his tongue when a tall, blond boy he recognized as Yunho came stumbling in, eyes wandering around the small infirmary until they landed on Mingi and him. 

He walked towards Mingi who's face immediately crumbled at the sight of him. As if a dam had finally broken, he burst into tears when the taller embraced him in his arms. Yunho's gaze met Wooyoung's eyes. He looked away, swallowing harshly. 

Time dragged on for what seemed like decades until the curtain was finally opened and all three of them immediately stood up to get a closer look of San. Wooyoung pursed his lips, a frown settling on his face as he took in San's state.

The thick white bandage was securely wrapped around his mouth where the branch was previously sprouted. Now it lay in the steel tray, covered in blood. 

A few droplets trailed down San's chin, staining his neck crimson. It hurt Wooyoung to look at him. So many emotions were surging through his veins as he watched the blood trickle down the side of his face, soaking into the pillow, painting the white sheets a shade of darker brown.
San whimpered quietly.

"I've called the ambulance, they should be here any moment," The caregiver announced softly.

"Thank you," Mingi breathed out in a hushed tone, still clinging to the taller.

"I'll go fetch some tissues." She offered before she exited the room.

Yunho crouched next to the boy, gently wiping San's face clean.
As Yunho finished cleaning the stain, the doors opened once more and four medics filed in.

Their faces were pale and solemn and their steps slow. He saw a stretcher being carried in their arms.

Wooyoung felt sick to his stomach.

They wheeled him onto the stretcher, one by one helping the nurses attach the wires to him and place an oxygen mask over his nose.

"Only two people are allowed to accompany him to the hospital. Preferably a parent."

"I'm coming with him," Mingi stated, detaching himself from Yunho. The nurse nodded and Mingi followed the medics out of the infirmary, leaving Wooyoung and Yunho alone.

Silence fell upon them once more. Wooyoung couldn't help but glance towards Yunho every once in a while, noticing how his shoulders were visibly tense and he kept his gaze straight ahead. After a long while, Wooyoung broke the silence.

"Since how long...?" Wooyoung started, trailing off his unfinished sentence. He didn't need to finish; Yunho already understood what he meant. Yunho took a deep breath before meeting his eyes.

"How long has he liked you or how long has he had the disease?" Yunho asked, voice curt and low, barely above a whisper. Wooyoung flinched.

"Uh-" He hesitated, unable to
find the right words to answer. He swallowed hard, trying desperately to avoid eye contact.

"He has liked you since high school."

Wooyoung's eyes widened drastically. How did he not notice? Had he really been that ignorant?

"But the disease doesn't develop until you're 18 years old. It's been like 3 months, give or take," Yunho continued and Wooyoung was struck with a sudden pang of regret. He hadn't wanted San to suffer because of something that was completely out of his control.

But then again, how would he know? He didn't know how it felt to love someone that much, didn't know what it felt like to be loved back.

But he knew one thing for certain: it must have been awful.

"I'm sorry." Was all he managed to say.

Yunho sighed, shaking his head. "It's not your fault."

The two of them remained silent once again. They both sat there in awkwardness, trying to comprehend everything, not knowing what to say.

By the time the nurse kicked them out, it was too late so Wooyoung quietly walked through the empty hallways, feeling drained. Instead of going back to his dorm, he found himself in front of Yeosang's room. He stood in front of the door, trying to gather his thoughts and emotions.

He weakly knocked on the door, wincing at sight of dried blood on his skin and peeling around his nails.

The door opened to reveal a groggy Yeosang, his hair sticking out in different directions. He blinked slowly, squinting his eyes in confusion before letting his eyes roam over his best friend. His face twisted into shock as he took in his state, immediately looking more awake than he was seconds ago.

"What happened?" He croaked out. Wooyoung didn't reply, only stared at him wordlessly. 

He wasn't even sure if he was capable of forming coherent sentences yet.

Yeosang grabbed his arm, dragging him inside. "Wooyoung! What happened? And why the fuck are you soaked in- oh my God, is that blood?!"

He let himself be handled by Yeosang, who quickly threw him down onto his couch and hurried back inside the bathroom to grab a wet cloth to wipe his hands.

"Do you know who San is in love with?" He blurted out.

Yeosang froze and looked up to meet his eyes.
As if coming to a realization, his eyes widened and his face turned tense.

"I had a suspicion." He said, looking at Wooyoung sympathetically.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked. Yeosang let a sigh escape him and plopped down beside Wooyoung.

"It isn't my place to disclose it. There was a reason he kept it a secret," He said, gently caressing his shoulder. Wooyoung leaned into the touch, desperately looking for an anchor to hold onto.

"It's not your fault, Wooyoung." Yeosang stated firmly as if he could hear Wooyoung's thoughts. When he received no reply,  he moved to sit cross legged next to Wooyoung. He placed both his palms on his shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Do you hear me? It is not your fault. None of it,"
He said earnestly, squeezing his shoulders. Wooyoung shut his eyes, taking in deep breaths to stabilize his trembling body.

"I know, but I-" He shook his head, pressing himself closer to Yeosang who allowed without protesting about his stained clothes.

"I've said so many hurtful things to him, Yeosang. Like, I know that's how we always are but I literally said I wouldn't care if he died," His eyes widened in horror, as he recalled the moment. Although they both knew it was a joke, it still wouldn't have been easy for him.

"I know it gets worse when they get rejected or something but saying that was technically even more terrible" He gestured dumbly to his chest. Yeosang didn't say anything instead he wrapped his arms around Wooyoung's frame, for which he was immensely grateful.

They remained like this until Wooyoung had calmed down considerably then Yeosang told him that he looked disgusting and that he needed a shower to which he agreed. He didn't want to think of the state of his room and the blood in his bathroom. He would deal with it later. 

That night as Wooyoung laid down to get some much needed sleep, he, unsurprisingly, dreamed of San.

🌺

Stares and whispers followed him everywhere he went. Captious eyes bore into his back with each step he took. Wooyoung wasn't used to this kind of attention.

Apparently, news of San had spread around the campus like wildfire and people more or less were accusing him of it. Angered that their 'hearthrob' and 'star' has been suffering from such a terrible disease. 

The dirty looks they gave him also further confirmed his suspicions that they somehow found out that Wooyoung was the one to plant those seeds in him.

Yeosang walked by his side through it all, shooting whoever dared to approach Wooyoung a malicious glare. Wooyoung really appreciated it since he knew how awkward Yeosang was with strangers and just people in general.

They had to part ways during the third period and Yeosang gave him a reassuring smile, promising to meet him at lunch. Wooyoung could only nod and make his way towards the English class.

The class he shared with San.

Gripping the straps of his backpack tightly, he made his way to the back of the class, pointedly ignoring the glares and whispers.

"How could anyone not love him?"

"Right? Like, if it was me I wouldn't be able to show my face to the world knowing someone was dying because of me."

Wooyoung took a seat at the very back of the class.

"Ungrateful ass. Imagine The Choi San being in love with you. What did he even see in him, anyways?"

Wooyoung took out the books and placed them on his desk.

"Someone like him doesn't deserve to be loved by San," Murmurs of agreement echoed in the room.

Wooyoung raised his head to glare at them, unable to counter their insults.

Fortunately for him the teacher entered the class and the students went silent.

Ms. Park scanned the classroom once and cleared her throat, earning their attention.

"I don't want any disturbance in my class." She spoke, eyeing the kids who were taunting Wooyoung seconds ago.

"If you are so keen on aimlessly blaming people for things they have no control over then you are to come meet me after this period. I will not be tolerating any moronic behavior in my class. Do you understand?" She bellowed in a stern voice.

Murmurs of 'sorry, ma'am' travelled in hesitant whispers.

Wooyoung refused to look at anyone during the entire class. Everytime he tried to concentrate on the lecture his mind wandered off to San's unconscious body. Taking deep breaths, he forced himself to calm down.

The bell rang and Wooyoung jumped from his seat, sprinted to the bathroom and locked himself in a stall. He tried to catch his breath.

He knew better than to let people's useless words and accusations get to him but no matter how hard he tried, his mind screamed at him mercilessly, blaming him for San's condition.

He was probably lying unconscious in a hospital bed, with wires and tubes attached to his arms and an oxygen mask to help him breath.
The vines were probably wrapped around his heart, tugging at it with brutal force.

With each intake of breath, Wooyoung's thoughts became more violent that he felt trapped in his own mind, falling victim to the accusations hurled at him.

He hurriedly pulled out his phone and texted Yeosang to meet him.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, arms curled around himself when the sound of quick footsteps snapped his out of his wretched state and he stood up to unlock the stall.

Yeosang immediately pulled him into his embrace and Wooyoung all but melted into him. Wooyoung was well aware of Yeosang's vehement dislike to physical affection so in that moment his heart swelled with gratitude. 

"I need to see him, Yeosang. I need to know if he's alright." Wooyoung mumbled against his chest. Yeosang pulled away to look in his eyes.

"We can go now, I guess. If you're okay with skipping lunch and the rest of the classes." Yeosang smirked and Wooyoung couldn't help but crack a smile at that. Skipping classes would always be his favorite thing to do.

"I'm always okay with that,"

🌺

The smell of antiseptics filled his nostrils as they entered the hospital. After enquiring at the reception, they found the room San was admitted in and made their way to the 3rd floor.

Wooyoung's heart galloped in his chest and his hands became sweaty at the thought of facing San in this state.

As they turned to the lobby, Mingi's bright red hair came into view. It heavily contrasted against the dull white of the hospital.

Their eyes met and Wooyoung immediately faltered at the dark look in his gaze. Mingi's condition made it even worse. His eyes were puffed out and dark circles adorned them. His hair was messy and looked like it had been pulled at the roots.

Next to him sat an elderly woman who Wooyoung assumed was San's
mother.

He reluctantly walked towards them and sat down on the opposite bench. Yeosang followed him.

"What are you doing here?" Mingi's voice was hoarse. The lady looked at Mingi in question.

"It's him. Wooyoung," He confirmed her suspicions and Wooyoung braced himself for her wrath but instead was met with sorrowful eyes. Somehow that was even worse.

"So you're the boy who stole my son's heart." She said, lips curling up in a sad smile. Wooyoung could only stare at her, all his words failed him at that moment.

"You're as beautiful as he has so frequently described you,"

Wooyoung was tongue-tied, feeling as though his heart had turned into cement. It hurt so bad knowing San had talked about him to his mother, describing him as beautiful and whatnot. It hurt so bad he thought it might burst into flames inside of him.

"I'm so sorry." He croaked out. That was all he said nowadays.

He didn't realize when a single tear escaped his eye.

"Forgive me, I don't- I didn't mean to-" He stuttered, unable to form coherent sentences while his mother sat there looking so broken and so utterly helpless that he felt his own heart shatter into pieces.

"Oh dear, it's not your fault. The human heart is unpredictable. You can't force yourself to like someone. That's even more painful for the person on the receiving end."

Wooyoung tried his very best to not break down in the middle of the hospital. That'd be very unethical of him.

Mingi's arms were crossed over his arms and his eyes bore into the floor as if it was the root for all the problems.

The sound of footsteps caught their attention as all four of them stood up, eyeing the doctor impatiently.

"He is awake now." Collective sighs were heard.

"We have run multiple diagnostics over the night and we are sorry to inform you that the disease is in it's final stages. Although deracinating it is extremely critical for his emotional condition, there is no other option available."

Wooyoung's heart dropped to his stomach.

Removing the flowers surgically seemed like the only plausible option for him to keep on living. And Wooyoung wanted him to live. That was certain. But something bugged at the very back of his mind that he promptly ignored.

"But we can't proceed with the surgery unless we have the patient's full consent, I'm sorry." He informed and walked away.

"I'll go and check up on him," San's mother immediately said and rushed inside the room.

"Can I-" Wooyoung started, his feet already moving towards the room but Mingi blocked him.

"You've done enough." He stated, though his voice didn't sound harsh at all.

"Please, let me see him. I want to apologize." Wooyoung practically begged. He could see Mingi's defenses faltering slightly.
He let out a defeated sigh and ran a hand through his hair, further messing it up.

"Alright, but after his mother is done talking to him. They need some alone time,"

Wooyoung didn't argue and simply nodded. He glanced at Yeosang who gave him a reassuring smile.

His mother stepped outside, wiping away her tears. Wooyoung stood up and made his way towards the room. His mother only gave him a shaky smile but didn't stop him from wanting to meet her son.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. Tried. Nothing would ever be easy with San. Even the most mundane things set off his anxiety.

Walking into the room his heart hammered painfully at the sight of San, lying still under the bedsheets and hooked up to tubes and machines.

His eyes met San's intense ones.

They stared into each other for a few moments before Wooyoung averted his gaze and looked around nervously. What was he supposed to say? Wooyoung settled for a greeting. "Hi,"

San looked at him with unreadable eyes and said nothing. Wooyoung gulped and fiddled with his fingers, trying to find the right words.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat. "How are you feeling?" Wooyoung tried again and this time San spoke.

"Like shit,"

Wooyoung snorted and smiled, relieved that some tension had loosened up a bit though his heart still felt too heavy in his body. 

"Why- why didn't you tell me?" Wooyoung started with a small voice. 

"Tell you what?" 

"That I was the reason you had those flowers growing inside you,"

"I guess it was easier to pretend you weren't a part of everything than face the reality of you being the sole cause for my current situation." San shrugged.

Wooyoung pursed his lips, trying not to let his frustration show.

 "Are you going to yell at me too?" San asked sarcastically.

Wooyoung sighed in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why did things have to be so difficult for both of them?

"No, I won't. Not yet anyway." Wooyoung replied.

"Good," 

Silence fell between them once again, leaving Wooyoung with his head spinning from all the emotions running rampant through his system. How was he supposed to respond to that?

"I'm sorry," Wooyoung muttered at last. It wasn't much but it was a start. And somehow it made everything just a little bit more bearable. San's eyes softened at his words.

"You have nothing to be sorry about," 

San smiled and it reminded Wooyoung how breathtakingly attractive his features were. "It was inevitable."

Wooyoung frowned at his comment. "What do you mean?" He demanded.

"I knew what was going to happen to me, you know. There was no point in hiding anything." Wooyoung felt nauseous.

 He looked back to all those years of them bickering and being at each other's throats at every given moment. Every insult thrown at the other's face. Each fight. The way it ended up always hurting San more than anyone else.

"You deserve better than me," Wooyoung whispered. San looked away from him, a pained expression taking its place on his face.

"Don't," San said, voice sharp and firm. "I have never ever regretted loving you and I will never regret it. Even if it costs my life," Wooyoung was well aware that San's feelings for him were strong enough for flowers to grow in his lungs but still hearing him say it with such certainty knocked the air out him. 

"Stop saying that," He choked out. "I'm not worth it, San." His voice broke at the end of his sentence.

 San turned to look at him. "Yes, you are," He replied. "You're worth everything," 

He started coughing and that was when Wooyoung noticed a steel bowl beside him. He retched the flowers in it. No matter how many times he witnessed the scene, Wooyoung thought he would never get used to seeing San choke on flowers and blood.

Wooyoung passed him a tissue and San accepted it with a small 'thanks' and wiped his lips. His chest heaved, eyes watering as he breathed heavily. After a while he stopped coughing and Wooyoung couldn't help but reach out to rub his arm gently. San froze at his touch, his lips twitched as if he wanted to say something but decided against it. 

 If two months back, you would've told Wooyoung that he'd be beside San in the hospital, he would've looked at you like you had grown an extra head. But life was always as unpredictable as it was inevitable. Never in this life could he entertain the thought of San having any feelings other than dislike for him and yet here they were. 

After that day, Wooyoung made it a habit to visit San everyday in the hospital after his classes for at least an hour or two. He convinced himself it was only because he felt guilty and definitely not to see the way San's eyes lit up whenever Wooyoung entered the room. 

With each passing the day, his condition seemed to get worse and when Wooyoung visited him later that evening, his heart had stopped altogether at the sight that greeted him. The eyes that acknowledged him with delight every time they met with his, were shut and an oxygen mask was fitted over his mouth, hiding his serene features from him. It fogged up with each troubled exhale of borrowed air and became clear with another intake. 

Wooyoung, unable to leave his side, sat beside his bed waiting for him to open his eyes so they could talk like they usually did nowadays. Hours ticked by and he still waited until the staff had to inform him that visiting hours were over. 

That was when it slammed into him all at once. San was barely surviving through borrowed air. His days were scarcely limited and each minute the roots tightened around his organs little by little, on their way to inevitably squeeze his lungs until he wouldn't be able to breath anymore. 

San might die and if he did not, he would be back and never look at Wooyoung again. The mere prospect of San's gaze sweeping over Wooyoung without wavering- the thought that Wooyoung might meet San's eyes and see there nothing at all, not even resentment- was unbearable in it's own and ignited a dull throbbing in his heart. 

The fear that San would no longer love him caused an instantaneous, almost wretched epiphany to strike through his very core. 

All those conflicting feelings, the hushed glances, the way his heart raced in his chest during their silly banters, how he wished they didn't have to end their mindless bickering, how San managed to appear in the forefront of his thoughts even when he wasn't physically present. 

Breathless by the revelation, he ran until he stopped in front of Yeosang's dorm. When the door opened, Wooyoung immediately sighed in relief and tried to catch his breath. Yeosang only looked at him, waiting for him to speak. He invited him inside and when they sat on his worn out couch, did Wooyoung finally open his mouth to speak. 

"What if-" Wooyoung's voice shook, he cleared his throat and attempted to calm his erratic heartbeat. "What if the victim's love is returned? Is it possible for the victim to stay sick even if their feelings are requited?"

Yeosang's brows shot up at that. He stayed silent for a moment, seemingly gathering his thoughts. 

"Hanahaki is a disease of perception, which means that it is heavily based on your self perception and the perception you have of others," Yeosang explained patiently. "That being said, if the victim doesn't believe that their feelings are reciprocated, then the disease still continues to thrive," 

Wooyoung stared at him, brows pulled down in a frown. So many thoughts ran through his head that he found it difficult to focus on any one. 

"How the hell do you know so much about Hanahaki?" Wooyoung asked stupidly. 

"If you weren't snoring your ass off during every bio class then maybe you would've known too," 

Wooyoung's mouth snapped shut at that. 

Yeosang met his eyes and he could see the question basically etched on his face. Wooyoung gulped and avoided his stare, choosing to look at the floor instead.

"So?" The blond pushed, nudging his shoulders. 

"I-" Wooyoung pursed his lips and fumbled with the loose thread of his sweater. 

"I think I'm in love with him," He whispered, afraid to say to any louder. 

"You think?" Yeosang asked raising a brow. Wooyoung sighed defeatedly and ran a hand through his fading purple hair. 

"No. I love him. I really do," He confessed, feeling like an immense weight had been lifted off his chest. A small smile appeared on his lips and his heart fluttered lightly in his ribcage. 

"But you've got to tell him before it's too late," Wooyoung's smile vanished from his face. "He won't know unless you confess to him directly. He still thinks that you don't love him that way," 

Wooyoung stood up abruptly, making Yeosang flinch. 

"Let's go,"

"Huh?"

"I have to tell him," Wooyoung stressed. "Right now," 

Yeosang got up and held Wooyoung's hand.

"It's very late now. We can go tomorrow and-" 

"No," Wooyoung interjected, shaking his head. " I have to tell him now. I won't be able to sleep until I've confessed. He has suffered enough, Yeosang. I can't bear to see him get worse," 

Yeosang sighed and nodded. Grabbing his keys and phone, he followed Wooyoung out. 

The ride to the hospital was unnerving and Wooyoung felt like he was going to combust before they even reached to their destination. 

Entering the hospital, Wooyoung wasted no time in rushing to the 3rd floor but was stopped by the flurry of doctors and nurses dashing around, shouting for equipments and supplies. Blood rushed to his ears, his pulse picked up a rapid pace. He looked around in confusion, trying his best to ignore the dreading feeling crawling at his heart. 

San wasn't the only patient on this floor. It could be anyone. 

Amongst the chaos, he spotted the familiar mop of red hair and sprinted towards him. 

"Mingi!" He yelled. The aforementioned turned to look at him and Wooyoung noticed the tears glistening in his eyes. Panic clutched at his senses with cold fingers. 

No, please.

"What's going on?" He breathed, voice breaking. 

"San almost didn't make it through the night."

"What?" Wooyoung croaked. 

"He's in the ICU, they're trying to spell air into his lungs to buy him some time. He still won't agree to get the surgery," Mingi said, lower lip wobbling as another set of tears rolled down his cheeks. 

"I need to see him," Wooyoung mumbled. Mingi's face immediately turned stoic. 

"Don't even think about it," Mingi retorted. "You've done enough,"

"I'm trying to fix this," Wooyoung pleaded. Mingi shook his head.

"You can't. It's too late," 

Wooyoung's eyes welled up with furious tears. 

"So what now? You'll leave him there to die?" He snapped, wiping away the wetness on his cheeks.

 "Please, let me see him. If anything happens to him, I won't ever forgive myself, please," His voice turned softer more desperate. He was going to beg on his knees if he had to. Seeing that Mingi only stared at him unrelentingly, Wooyoung did what he thought was best and took off towards the direction of all the commotion, ignoring Mingi's screams.

The emergency sign above the room blared and a number of medics were gathered outside. He attempted to rush past them but was held back with a strong pair of hands wrapped around his forearms, preventing him from moving any further. He whimpered, struggling to set himself free.

"I'm sorry but you're not allowed to enter the ICU during emergencies. Stay back," A stern voice meddled through the roaring in his ears. His sight became blurry and steady tears flowed from his eyes. 

"Let me go!" He cried, wriggling in his hold. "I have to see him, please. I need to- I can fix this, trust me," Heavy sobs escaped his throat. 

Without thinking twice he sunk his teeth into the skin of the one holding him, causing the man to let out a cry and Wooyoung bolted towards the unit without looking back. 

He was immediately hit by the heavy smell of antiseptics and a metallic tang from stainless steel in the open air. He grimaced and covered his mouth with his hand. In the middle of the gigantic room, laid San on a bed. There was absolutely no sound except for San's heavy breathing and the constant beeping of the monitors. 

Wooyoung's eyes widened at the sheer number of tubes and wires attached to San's arms and even his naked chest, all of this to buy him some more time. An oxygen mask covered half of his face and his dark hair shielded his eyes. His breathing was erratic, chest rising and falling in a rapid motion almost as if the air was insufficient for his lungs. 

He went and stood by his side. Another tear rolled down and landed on San's unconscious face. He gently took his cold hands into his warmer ones and rubbed his skin. 

"San," He whispered. "I know I'm late but here I am," He caressed his hair with trembling hands. 

"Please, open your eyes," He begged, eyes flitting urgently over his face. 

The commotion outside became louder and San still won't wake up. Wooyoung, as a last resort, lifted the damn oxygen mask and pressed his lips firmly against San's chapped ones. His stomach swooped at the contact and Wooyoung could hear the beeping sound of the monitors pick up a quick pace and San's chest heaved swiftly under his touch.

 Wooyoung caressed his face and tilted his head to deepen the kiss. His tears fell on San's eyelash and a slight movement beneath him startled Wooyoung. He pulled away just enough to see San's eyes fluttering open and meeting Wooyoung's teary ones. 

"Wooyoung?" His raspy voice send shivers through his entire body and relief crashed over him like waves on a shore. He managed to give him a wobbly smile. 

"San," He replied weakly. He buried his face in the crook of his neck and sobbed, unable to wire through the emotions hurdling his mind. A gentle hand came up to caress his head and Wooyoung's heart felt like it was about to burst out of his body. 

"Hey, look at me. It's alright," San's soothing voice managed to somehow calm his nerves and he slowly lifted his head to look into his eyes that still held the same intensity each time their gazes met. 

"Took you long enough," San raised his brows and Wooyoung couldn't help but snort at that. Instead of replying he grabbed his jaw and connected their lips in a searing kiss. San responded with equal intensity, his hand coming up to hold the back of his neck. Wooyoung's skin tingled like nothing before, San's touch was igniting and Wooyoung wanted to burn in his flames. 

They pulled away and rested their foreheads against each other.

"I love you," Wooyoung whispered in his mouth. He could feel San's swollen lips curve up into a grin. 

"Yeah?" He tried to sound cocky but failed when his voice broke at the end. Wooyoung smiled, his heart melting into a puddle. 

"In case it wasn't obvious, I love you too, dumbass," Wooyoung giggled and pecked his lips once again. San sighed contently and God-

-he could finally breath. 

🌺

Wow.

Believe it or not, this was supposed to be 5k words only LMFAO but anyways it's over and I can finally breath. (no pun intended)

I was 🤏close to giving this a sad ending but decided against it bwahhaha.

Sorry for making my boo suffer but someone had to go through it (i enjoyed every second of it) and don't go on hating on my mans Mingi, he was STRESSED asf and it was his best friend going through it so you can't blame him now, can you?

I'm thinking of writing a cute little epilogue to compensate for all the angst, so look forward to it although I can't guarantee when. I literally wrote this during my finals and today was Bio and I fucked it up. Wooyoung just like me fr