Chuuya Nakahara locked the door and leaned against it. The pain was building up inside of him. Pain that should not exist. Heartache to a level of lethal.

He felt his lungs contort. It was killing him to hold it in.

But after four years, he figured he'd become the master at holding things in.

But not with this.

He sunk to the floor and lost his senses. Everything went black for a short time.

When he regained his vision, he looked down.

"Fuck."

Camelia petals, soaked in blood, everywhere. All over the floor.

Chuuya never liked flowers.

Now he hated them.

Never before had he wanted so badly to hear the sound of the lock on the front door being picked.

Never before had he wished so disgustingly to see Osamu Dazai, of all people.

Never before had he desired so extremely to throw his arms around the brunette and pour his heart out.

How filthy that he was having these thoughts. He hated Dazai.

Or so he believed.

If he hated him, he wouldn't have this godforsaken disease.

He knew seeing Dazai would be one of the worst things to do. Just seeing that face, that horrid face that did not love him back, would destroy him. But going any amount of time not seeing him felt like it was destroying him.

There was no winning.

He trudged to his couch and dramatically flopped on it. After his lungs being squished by flowers, he had no energy to do anything.
He later fell asleep in that position.

Chuuya woke up in a pool of petals and blood. Atrocious.

He didn't want to leave his home that day. He just wanted to stay inside. He couldn't get himself to do anything.

But he was Chuuya Nakahara. He'd hate himself for not doing anything.

So he forced himself out the door.

It was predictable that he would see Dazai. He always ran into him one way or another. Without trying, he'd always manage to find him.

But never before had he hoped for this encounter so very much.

Dazai's eyes met Chuuya's. They stared in silence for a bit, until Dazai broke the silence.

"You look awful."

It was things like that that made Chuuya question his decision to love this man.

"So what?" Chuuya retorted. "I don't care."

He felt a hand grab his shoulder as he walked away. The hand spun him around.

"Has something gotten into you?" Dazai asked him. "Normally when I say stuff like that you tell me to shut up. But you didn't this time."

"I didn't notice," Chuuya fibbed.

"Don't lie to me, Chuuya," Dazai ordered. He crossed his arms and rested his head on one fist. "I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me."

"You wouldn't leave me alone even if I did tell you," Chuuya argued. "It wouldn't make a difference. I'm leaving now. Goodbye."

Dazai let Chuuya walk away this time. But when he heard the sound of violent coughing, his curiosity was peaked.

Especially since it sounded like Chuuya.

"Chuuya?" Dazai called out.

"Fuck off," Chuuya sputtered between petals. "I don't want to talk to you."

"You're bleeding," Dazai thought aloud.

"I know."

"Where's it coming from?"

"My mouth."

"Why?"

"You're killing me. That's why."

Normally when Chuuya said things like this, Dazai shrugged it off. That was just what he did. But this time, he knew he couldn't.

He walked closer and leaned forward, seeing the camelias dancing on the ground, blood seeping through them.

Dazai immediately knew what this was.

"H-hanahaki?" he stuttered, in shock.

"Nice observation, idiot," Chuuya said crudely.

"But...why?"

"Because I'm in love with you, you bastard."

"You're what?"

"I'm in love with you. And you don't love me back."

Dazai, for the first time, was too stunned to say anything, or move, at all. Chuuya loved him? All this time he thought Chuuya hated him. Which is why he put a lid on his own feelings and didn't let himself feel that way.

Turns out that was not the right choice.

"What are you still doing here?" Chuuya exclaimed, a cold tone in his throat that slid out along with the petals. "Go away. I don't want you here."

"I'm not leaving you this time," Dazai argued.

"There's nothing you can do to help me."

"Yes there is. I could love you."

"No you could not. Don't dangle false hope in front of me--"

"I did love you."

Chuuya was silent for a moment. Then the pain returned.

"But you don't anymore," he said, "so you can't help me."

"I forced myself to not love you because I thought you hated me."

"Well, news flash, asshole. I've been in love with you this whole time. Just leave me here to die. Please."

"No. I'm not leaving you."

Dazai knew Chuuya didn't want him to leave, despite his words. And he knew Chuuya needed him in that moment more than anything.

"I will love you again. I will," he reassured the dying mafioso.

"It's not that easy," Chuuya retorted. "Good luck with that."

"I will. I promise."

"You don't have enough time to fall back in love with me."

"Yes I do. I can."

"I love you, Dazai..."

"Chuuya, please--"

"...bastard."

Chuuya blacked out.

It had been weeks. Chuuya was still comatose. Not dead yet. He held on, just like he would for anything else.

Dazai kept his promise. He loved him. He always would.

He just waited for the day Chuuya would wake up so he could tell him.

Dazai looked at the grass and crushed the bed of camelias beneath his feet.