warning: vomiting and mentions of blood.

*

The first wave is the worst.

Roden's knees hurt from grazing the bathroom floor, and his knuckles turn white as his hands grip the toilet seat. He's bent over it, retching from the disgusting, metallic smell of blood mixed with the sweet fragrance of the flowers. There are more petals stuck in his throat, and all he wants is for them to come out, come out, come out.

It's agonizing. He can't fucking breathe, he wants to rip his whole chest open, the ache in his heart is excruciating, his vision is blurry because of the tears and he wants all of it to stop. Roden can feel the flowers in his lungs, then the smell hits him again, and he's spilling them all out and there they are, purple and beautiful and stained with blood.

From a distance, he hears the clattering of keys. Roden chokes out a sob. Fuck, no.

"Rodes? You home?" Knox calls out as he enters the house, and then there's a pause.

It takes him seven seconds to throw open the bathroom door with his eyes wide. Roden looks up at him, and he knows he's a mess—shirt drenched with blood and sticky petals, face covered in sweat and tears, bent over a toilet looking helpless and hopeless and desperate. "Oh, shit," Knox whispers, then drops to his knees beside his best friend and rubs circles onto his back. "Jesus, Roden. You should've called—the flowers and the blood outside scared the shit out of me."

"I can't," Roden wheezes as he grabs Knox's forearm and grips it hard, "breathe." God, his throat hurts like hell.

"Get them out," Knox says. "Get them all out, buddy, come on."

He's sobbing, he's hurting, and then he's retching all over again until more petals come out from his lungs and it's even more agonizing than before.

"Shit," his best friend murmurs with a sigh. "I'll be right back, I'll get you some water."

Roden doesn't know how many seconds or minutes Knox leaves him there alone, but oxygen finally reenters his lungs and he's panting for air as he slides up against the wall of the bathroom and leans back. Knox brings the glass to Roden's lips and urges him to drink. His throat fucking hurts, but he forces himself to swallow the liquid down.

Then there's a wet towel brushing against the corner of his mouth. "You're going to be fine, Rodes, it doesn't hurt so much after this."

Roden doesn't answer. Just lays his head back against the hard, cold tiles and presses his hand against the ache of his chest.

Knox doesn't ask. He doesn't ask the most important question of all. He doesn't need to, not when Roden coughs up another petal when the phone on the floor buzzes with a text from the flower herself. i'm on my way!! :)

*

Maybe he's a little bit afraid. A bit too biased. A little too in love.

But Reedley Kang Blakelee puts every word synonymous to beautiful to shame. She's in pajamas like she always is during movie nights (except this time it's Iron Man and fuck, if that isn't endearing then he doesn't know what is), her hair's tied in a bun atop her head with some strands sticking out and some falling across her face, and there are no golden locks, ivory skin, piercing green eyes—it's all olive tones, the color of her halo ink spilled across parchment, and her eyes. Her coffee-hued eyes that are always too compassionate and warm and captivating; that show her soul and all of its kindness and beauty and God, when the Disease finally kills him, he wants those eyes to be the last thing he sees.

Reed is...she's spellbinding.

He's not even paying attention to the film they're watching anymore. If he's being honest, he stopped paying attention to the the fact that it's still a little too hard to breathe, that there are flowers growing inside his lungs, and that his heart is suffering once he opened the door and let her in. Reed is snuggled up against him as they share the blanket, small hands fisted inside the pockets of her sweatpants, head laid against his chest. When she's this close, he can't worry about anything else.

But then she turns her head. Looks at him with those eyes. Smiles a little before facing the movie again. "You look like you're thinking about something."

Roden's hand comes up to caress her hair. "I do?"

"I don't even think you're watching the movie," she mutters. A crease forms between her eyebrows. Roden smiles. "Look, this is my favorite part. Pay attention."

"We've watched this a million times."

"Hey, I don't complain when we watch Finding Nemo once a month."

Roden hums. "I thought you love the movie as much as I do."

Reed crosses her arms over her chest. "Not when you love the movie more than you do me."

He doesn't mean to, but he laughs. It's all so incredibly ironic. "You're so bratty."

She doesn't even deny it. Just scoots closer to Roden until there are no spaces between them.

Later, when Reed leaves, Roden slumps against the couch and rubs his skin over where his heart is. It still hurts.

Knox comes outside of his room with his phone in hand. "You good?"

"Honestly, no."

"I've been doing some research." His roommate motions for Roden to move across the couch. Knox clears his throat as his thumb moves across the screen of his phone. "So your flower for Reed was discovered by the sixteenth century Flemish botanist, Charles...something. I don't know how to pronounce his surname."

Roden sighs. "That's not important, Knox."

"It symbolizes caution or danger...oh, so that's what it means!"

"What? What?"

"Its name comes from the Greek words rhodon which means rose and dendron which means tree, hence rose tree. You're a rose tree, dude."

Roden the rose tree doesn't bother responding. He throws an arm over his eyes and takes a deep breath. His lungs protest silently.

"Let's see what else flower expert dot com says."

"How trustworthy."

Knox gasps. "Oh, look, here. Why we grow it. Give them moisture and shade, and rhododendron shrubs offer red, white, pink, or purple flower clusters in spring...okay, useless, I get it, no need to glare. Oh, here. Deadly parts."

"Fantastic."

"Deadly parts...the entire plant. Symptoms are stomach irritation, abdominal pain, abnormal heart rate and rhythm, convulsions—"

"—probably why I still feel like shit. The fucking flower is toxic."His throat is constricting and he feels them—feels the flowers. He swallows them down.

Knox pauses for a second. "Coma and death."

"Why do you say that like I'm not going to die, anyway?"

"Stop being dramatic, you're not going to die. Just get the surgery and you'll be fine."

The brunet looks up at Knox. "That's not an option."

"It's your only option," the other boy says firmly, dropping his phone on the cushions. "Unless you want to tell me that you're going to stop seeing Reed?"

And Roden feels that. Feels the ache of those words go straight to his heart.

"Shit," he chokes out before he's leaving the room and stumbling towards the bathroom to bend over the toilet again. Knox is hot on his heels.

The flowers spill. Along with the blood and the pain and the reminder that Reed doesn't love him.

The first wave is always the worst.

*

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