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part one: the beginning
Seonghwa didn’t know it could get this bad.
He's been loving Jongho for years. No problems.
And then it started.
part two: sickness
Seonghwa had been uncomfortable for a few days.
The back of his throat felt like sandpaper, it was so dry and coughs inevitably came along as well.
It was midnight. The coughs kept coming, and he forced down some water, almost choking as the coughs came again.
He knew that he needed to keep it down. He didn’t want the others to worry. it was probably something mild. Maybe he came down with a cold?
part three: baby’s breath
Seonghwa soon found out that it wasn’t just a cold.
He had locked himself in a bathroom for the night, coughing away, until he was in tears.
Everything hurt.
His heart. His lungs.
Everything.
He coughed again and felt something on his tongue.
He picked it off and his heart dropped like a stone.
A tiny flower, barely even the size of the nail on his pinky.
part four: wonder
Seonghwa wondered when it started.
Was it when he felt the itch in his lungs? He could've got it confused with seasonal allergies.
Seonghwa coughed out more. He felt the stems move in his lungs, and another severed white flower flew into his hands.
He held onto it and cried.
It only started recently.
Jongho loved him before.
It wasn’t always one-sided.
Seonghwa beat himself up for being a coward and not seizing his chance.
part five: the parent and the child
Jongho was the maknae, a baby in everyone’s eyes.
Seonghwa was the oldest, the ‘mom’ of the group.
A parent should not be in love with the child.
Not in this way.
Seonghwa was angry.
He gripped the stems of his flowers in his quiet rage.
part six: discovery
Seonghwa didn’t want anyone to worry. He kept the flowers in.
He coughed through dance practice. He wore his mask through the dancing.
The other members did that sometimes.
But not when they were sick.
He stayed in the practice room after they were done.
Only Yeosang was left, vacuuming the floor and cleaning up.
Seonghwa coughed again. This time, his lips felt wet and the taste of iron coated the tip of his tongue.
Yeosang looked back in worry, before he froze.
‘Seonghwa?’
‘Your mask is red.’
part seven: blood
Yeosang stayed with Seonghwa the rest of the night.
Seonghwa coughed and coughed, blood coming up and bubbling through his lips. Yeosang wiped it off with a tissue, looking sad.
‘Hyung…’
Seonghwa looked up at him, tears in his eyes.
Yeosang looked back at him, just as sad as he was.
part eight: thorns
It didn’t take long for Seonghwa to realize that his lungs were growing a different kind of flower along with the baby’s breath.
He felt thorns scrape his throat when he coughed. More blood came out than ever before and Seonghwa always felt weak.
Yeosang let him take more breaks than before.
It was okay. for now.
He was okay. for now.
Or so he thought.
part nine: surgery
‘Seonghwa…’
Seonghwa turned away tearily.
‘Get the surgery.’
‘No, I don't want to,’ Seonghwa blubbered through the blood that rose out of his throat.
‘Seonghwa, please. You’re dying,’ Yeosang said. ‘You’re dying, Seonghwa. It’s too late to turn back, you can’t just stop loving him anymore,’ Yeosang sobbed.
‘Please,’ Seonghwa pleaded, his eyes full of tears. ‘A few more days.’
‘Seonghwa, you’ll be dead by then. Do it for yourself. For us, for Jongho. Please.’
‘I’ll… tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow. Give me this last day, please.’
part ten: memories
Seonghwa remembers when he first saw Jongho.
He wove his way through memories of their days in training, how nice it felt when he was happy, how his laugh sounded.
He knows he loves Jongho.
He saw the interviews, how he smiled at Jongho’s responses every time without fail.
Sometimes Jongho would get cold at night. He would come over and lie down beside him for his body heat. Seonghwa’s blush would make him warm.
He knew he loved Jongho.
part eleven: afterwards
Seonghwa woke up, seven boys surrounding him. The absence of flowers in his weak, weak lungs felt so odd. He felt so empty.
He saw Jongho and his heart didn’t spark the same way it did before.