Gardens in Bloom

by OnyourRadar

Summary:

Lucas falls head first into love one day. He’s told it was different for everyone when it happens. For him, it was a feeling of insurmountable pain. A touch of love that had his heart forming cracks, spidery fissures opening up and breaking to the sound of laughter that struck him at the core when he heard it; not for the first time— but for the first time like this. 

 

Falling in love, for Eliott, was a slow and intimate affair. It was living and learning how to breathe, it was crumbling and building himself back up, it was feeling his heart break over and over and mending into the shape of the one he loves— it was realizing that Lucas was the one.

 

He is the only one.

—or—

A hanahaki au where they are both in love and too afraid to admit it.

Notes:

took a break from writing my bang fic to finally finish this short fic after close to years of writing that first half. I actually think they are still looking for OG artists. If you're interested. Go sign-up <3. Excited for it, can't wait.

This fic is complete. I will upload Pt. 2 in a bit. There is a bit of blood and light body horror.

Chapter 1: A Bud

Lucas falls head first into love one day. He’s told it was different for everyone when it happens. For him, it was a feeling of insurmountable pain. A touch of love that had his heart forming cracks, spidery fissures opening up and breaking to the sound of laughter that struck him at the core when he heard it; not for the first time— but for the first time like this . 

 

A sound that has Lucas wanting to keel over; wanting to touch his forehead to the ground to catch the feeling of a fading cool. It has him punch drunk from the assault on his heart and delirious with happiness as he clutches at the open wound hidden underneath his shirt and out of view. 

 

He is scared. He is scarred. 

 

Lucas wants badly to run the moment it happens if only to nurse his wound in the confines of his tiny bathroom, away from prying eyes and nosy mothers or worried friends. Half because this moment was his to hold onto, the other half because how does he explain that Eliott’s laughter has him seeing light break through clouds and wishing for more of it while it slowly drains him as he looks on. 

 

How does he explain the way his chest breaks open and the contents that spill out are beautiful flowers— petals of golden hues and stems of the greenest patches of grass, dipped in the blood and tangled with his insides. 

 

He can’t. He doesn’t know it himself—why roots puncture his lungs and break skin, curling for thorns to lay intimate love on his ribs until they fracture.

He doesn’t miss the fact he wasn’t the one that made Eliott laugh like that. Lucas chooses to ignore it. All of it. Bites down on his lips until they bleed—rather than allow himself that comfort of grasping at stems, vines of all different kinds, and pulling them out and up through his mouth. 

 

His throat, it hurts. He coughs up baby's breath, little bleeding hearts, sunflowers of the brightest colors, little blue forget-me-nots that lay forgotten, and hyacinths of the sturdiest purple— he holds them at night. Places every little piece of him in a vase as he thinks of Eliott and his soft smile. 

 

His kindness and warmth that water the roots inside him.  

 

Lucas doesn't understand why he sheds blooms and blossoms like he is leaving a trail for Eliott to find. And every day it gets worse until his bedroom floor has become a little garden that he nurtures. 

 

And still Eliott has yet to notice. 

 

Not with the way Lucas sews himself back up, pulling his ripped skin close like a blanket to hide those broken and bruised ribs, using thorns to hold himself together until evidence that he is broken disappears. Fades when he sleeps and reappears when he wakes. 

 

Lucas feels like he is withering, changing and he grows quiet. This is normal, he tells himself. Because love can break a person in the best ways. It is beautiful. From the way those gardenias grow from his eyes, blinding him at night as he tries to sleep but dreams of Eliott, to the way those dandelions that pop up on his shoulders where Eliott touches, only to transfer to the air at the slightest gust of wind. 

 

Yann catches him crying from the ache inside his chest, palms cupped and catching the dead leaves that forcefully tear their way out of his face in a rush to leave his body before his skin mends itself. 

 

"Please tell him, Lucas. This is killing you." 

 

Lucas lets the leaves fall to the floor and he is right as rain hitting grass. He smiles and says, 

 

"Yann, it hurts."

 

But Lucas finds himself unable to hold it together as he coughs up full and yellow petaled daffodils and innocent white daisies. He shakes his hands to rid the flowers of the redness that latched on, as the stems and leaves tore up his throat. 

 

When he holds the bouquet out for the other boy to take, Eliott accepts with a smile, and Lucas is lost on the pure happiness he sees on that face. 

 

He smiles back, gums aching from how hard he tried to erase the blood in his mouth. 

 

"I got those from my garden. They're for you." Only for you , he wants to say. 

 

He hates how big Eliott's  heart is. Hates how much he cares. Because Lucas continues to grow Eliott flowers while Eliott gives them all away. 

 

He wishes the flowers came with a message. Written out plainly so Eliott could see. 

 

I love you. But they don't. Eliott doesn't see any of it. 

 

Chapter 2: Blooms, Below the Pulse

Eliott counts petals like he counts the breaths he takes and holds in his lungs. Until it burns away a feeling that he thinks is unwanted. Doubt or too much love for one body to hold down. That burn was a familiar feeling, one he has grown used to— like an old friend or the ghost of a lover who lingers. 

 

Falling in love, for Eliott, was a slow and intimate affair.  It was living and learning how to breathe, it was crumbling and building himself back up, it was feeling his heart break over and over and mending into the shape of the one he loves— it was realizing that Lucas was the one. 

 

He is the only one. 

 

Under the scrutinizing eyes and concerned whispers of his friends, Eliott slow-danced, he grinded, bumped chests and greeted his secret, accepting the feelings that left him with his adrenaline rushing, a little breathless, and more worse for the wear.

 

But he takes care to carry the buds of his love with him wherever he might go. He keeps them safe, there, in his chest. Still and without bloom just below his pulse. 

 

He bears the weight of it. Like a hope that hasn’t quite withered. Eliott thinks, perhaps, one day it’ll bloom. Bloom like everything else has. When it does, he’d give himself and all his love away— pour it into the hands that cup at his heart. It is just the start. The start, like the beginning of a minute. 60 seconds filled with cataloging every little detail of a face he’d become so familiar with but can not call his own. Though he wants to. 

 

1

 

It is a sharp nose , bowed lips painted a light pink always parted with joy, with laughter, with a welcomed sarcasm. Caught between teeth in uncertainty. Like the pink lilies that burrow, make home and grow and rip up Eliott at the lips,  before dying quickly. Too quick for him to give away like a gift. 

 

12

 

The pale stretch of skin dotted with the barest hint of freckles across the bridge of that nose. Milky and soft. Not for Eliott to touch. He breathes in deep, plucks his flower before it dies, stares down at the bloodied bloom and smells the scent of sweet nectar. He thinks of Lucas. 

 

27

 

Lucas and his small frame and wild hair. Care-free. Eliott only carries devotion entwined in his soul for this man who he wants as his better half. Where he might be able to give him flowers, primroses that he coughs up, bloodied into the palms of his hands, deep pink petals with a yellow eye in the center. 

 

36

 

He says, I can’t live without you and my love is forever , with his little bouquets that he keeps for himself. Because Lucas deserves so much more. He deserves a garden in bloom to match the size of his guarded heart. 

 

40 

 

Eliott seeks Lucas out like he is the last sliver of sun when it’s sinking. He is the before the night sinks in and the aftermath of a warm sticky day when the air clings to skin . An embrace. It feels like nothing else he’s encountered. Eliott thinks, he knows, nothing will ever match that again. 

  53

 

Match it in  a way  like how they might match breaths when next to each other. He inhales and Lucas exhales. That is the kind of life that Eliott feels coursing through his veins. He cherishes it. Like he cherishes the sprigs of lavender that he knows are meant for Lucas. That he knows will split him open, his veins split apart, valleys and grooves canyon deep — A web, where he bleeds on his arms, his legs. Everywhere. A maudlin affair of what he couldn’t say but wants to in the scars that he wears on his own body. Scars that he hides because he’s not ready. 

 

Everywhere.

 

60

 

And nowhere all at once, because home is where he finds Lucas. Lucas who has his body turned away like he’s hiding, but face looking at Eliott head on. Fingers clutching at a bundle of daffodils and daisies tinged with a bitterness that Eliott wishes to erase.

 

Lucas says, 

 

“I got those from my garden. They're for you.” 

 

Eliott hears Lucas’ voice shake with a timbre that begs Eliott to bury him— that is everything that he does not want. But he struggles with his words, and he struggles with his feelings, and he struggles with just being enough. 

 

Because not all his buds have bloomed. How can he gift something so incomplete? All he wants is to lay the world at Lucas’s  feet. Eliott waters himself, he soaks Lucas up like the sun. His lungs burn and his throat is full as he coughs and coughs and hurts until he feels the deep roots and leaves split the joints of fingers. Crack his nails straight down the middle until he’s staring at deep deep purples of violet’s that scream I am devoted . 

 

I love deep and I love you. Just you. 

 

White acacia’s that burst at his temples when he thinks of Lucas then drop as he walks, a pathway that is a simple show of where he wants to be led.  When Eliott takes Lucas’ flowers, he hangs them to dry, a little piece of forever that he keeps in a vase.

 

Idriss watches as he treasures something dead. The smile that he gifts Eliott is sardonic, acidic because he sees his friend as foolish. 

 

He says, “I know why you keep it… is it worth more than what you could have?”

 

Eliott feels fear eat away at the leaves and the vines inside him, until it feels like there is nothing but particles of dust left behind. 

 

“What if I can’t do this?”

 

“The same way he couldn’t?” Idriss asks. He is not wrong. “Which one of you will give until you no longer have the choice?”

 

The thought terrifies him. He takes that and allows it to lead him towards Lucas. Lucas who can be found lying in the field drenched in sunlight. His eyes are glazed and his cheeks dusted with a delicate green. Moss and time and simplicity. He’s waiting. He’s decaying. 

 

Eliott drops his violets, his white acacia’s, his pink lilies— his love , all around Lucas and he says, 

 

“I’m sorry I made you wait.”

 

Blue, blue eyes look up at him. Blink slowly. Blue like the blues of  morning glories. He tells Lucas with this, his willingness to be exposed. 

 

Lucas runs his fingers over every fine petal, slow. Like every piece is to be dotted on, to be loved, to be cared for. 

 

He says, 

 

“I’d wait forever.” For you, for you. 

 

Eliott loves him all the more for it. 

 

Chapter 3: ART

Summary:

A piece of art from the lovely AltErLove2021 ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Absolutely stunning and I'm in love.

Notes:

Thoughts and comments? Hope you enjoy.