It's becoming harder to get through the day.

He spends most of his time hunched over the toilet seat than on his feet, and sometimes it's two in the morning, and sometimes it's five, when he sits up wide-eyed with unbearable pain in his chest before rolling over and spewing the petals out. Roden goes to class looking more dead than a corpse, and he's lost count over how many times his classmates ask him if he's alright. His body is weak, his throat is burning, his lungs find it hard to take up all the oxygen he needs, and as an excuse for the violent coughing fits, he's smoking again even though he stopped junior year. The energy that he used to have to go to five to seven classes everyday, attend science team meetings and still go to swimming training, is gone.

He's getting worse. The Disease is actually starting to really kill him.

And this is what he thinks as he sits on Reed's bed with a scarf over his neck to hide the darkening lines etched on his skin. Reed's notebook is on his lap, and he was in the process of looking through some of her new sketches of building designs for an assignment (she's improved so much with the help of her classes, and Roden is proud of her) when Aaron the asshole calls.

His hands don't touch the sketchbook in Reed's absence.

When she comes back, unlike that last time, she has stars in her eyes and happiness on her lips. "He's picking me up in an hour. We're going on a date."

"Oh," he said. "That's great."

And Reed actually squeals, like the first time Aaron asked her out months ago and Roden was the only person she could tell. Then she's gushing, rambling about how she's glad they're actually going to spend time together and how much she missed him and that she has tons of work due but that it can wait until after the date, and all Roden can do is watch her as she digs through her closet, the anticipation and eagerness radiating off of her palpable. He's happy for her, he tells himself. She deserves this much.

Roden sits frozen while Reed brings three different dresses to the bathroom with her, making sure to grab the small makeup bag sitting on her desk. Through the thin door, she says, "Sorry. You must think I'm dumb for being excited about a date."

"I don't think you're dumb," Roden answers immediately. "I would never think that."

"Then what's got you so quiet?" There's rummaging inside the bathroom. "Is there something bothering you?"

Roden coughs. Reed notices. "You shouldn't smoke again," he hears her say quietly, in that tone she uses when it's about something she dislikes or disapproves of. "You know how proud I was when you stopped years ago. We even celebrated at a karaoke and you had me singing horribly."

He couldn't help the curve of his lips at the memory. Oh, good times. "It wasn't...horrible."

"You can stop lying." He hears the smile in her voice, too. "In all seriousness, Roden. It's not healthy."

Neither is loving you, he wants to say. And it's not like I have anything else to lose. "I know. I promise I'll stop."

Reed doesn't say anything for a while. Roden hates that he's disappointing her, but he needs the excuse. He needs the distraction, the high it gives. Reed doesn't understand, and that's fine. He doesn't need her to.

"I'm going to ask again and you're going to answer me honestly, Roden Olivers," Reed says. Roden flips another page in her sketchbook. "What's bothering you? Tell me."

"I'm quitting the swim team."

Reed slams the door open, and it scares Roden so much that he jumps back from surprise, hand going to his chest to clutch his racing heart. "Jesus, you scared the living shit out of me."

"You're what?" Reed snaps, eyebrows furrowed. "I think I heard you wrong."

Roden has to catch his breath, because she doesn't look any less gorgeous with shock and anger in her expression and with her long, black hair a mess from all the changing, her cheeks flushed, and in a navy blue chiffon dress that Roden recognizes immediately with one of the spaghetti straps hanging off of her shoulder.

He clears his throat. "Hey, is that the dress you wore for our high school graduation? It's the one I accidentally spilled Coke on when we went out to dinner afterwards and you yelled at me for the first time because it was a gift from your mom."

She shakes her head and comes close to where Roden is sitting before taking the book out of his hands. With less distance between them, it's harder for Roden to breathe when he can see the specks of freckles peppered across her nose, the stretch of the midnight sky in her eyes, and the slightly crooked front tooth he's always found cute and endearing. "Yes it is, but we're not talking about that right now. Why are you quitting the Tankers?"

Because I can't swim anymore. Because I drown every time I'm in the water. "Because it doesn't make me happy."

Reed stares at him, and it feels like she's staring directly into his soul. "You're lying."

And sometimes, Roden hates that she knows him so well. "I'm not," he says in the most neutral voice he can muster while maintaining eye contact. "It's not something I want to do anymore."

She scrunches her nose, the way she always does when she's confused. "But...the guys are great, aren't they? And you said so before, your coach already has a spot for you in the national team after you graduate, and—and you love swimming, don't you? You can't quit. There's a different reason. What is it?"

Roden smiles. He can't imagine the way she's going to react if she finds out the Disease is the reason, and the reason for the Disease is her. "It just doesn't make me happy anymore, Reed."

Reed stares at him again. Desperately searches the lie in his eyes.

When she can't find it, she says, pleadingly, like she can't believe Roden is giving up on the sport he loves, "Think about it for a few more days. And then if you really want to quit...I'll support you. I want you to be happy. Always."

Roden almost chokes on the flowers threatening to escape his mouth as he looks at Reed and sees nothing but sincerity in her gaze. "I'll think about it."

"Okay," she whispers, hand reaching out to run her fingers through the thick strands of his hair. "Okay. You don't have to wait for me to finish getting ready, you know?"

"Yeah," he breathes, because she's so close and she's touching him and God, his chest feels tighter and his body feels weaker. "Yeah. I have a lot of work to catch up on so I'll leave in a bit. Enjoy your date and let me know when you get home safe and sound."

Reed smiles, leans over and kisses his cheek. "I will. Lock the door on your way out."

When she's gone and back inside the bathroom, Roden coughs out three purple petals. All beautiful, all stained with blood.

*

Roden thinks about it and comes to the same decision.

"Kid, what's going on?" Coach Miller demands for the third time, eyes wild and unwilling. "You can't just quit—you're our ace swimmer. I've got a spot for you in the national team, damn it, Olivers!"

"Coach, I'm sorry," Roden says again, and his heart is breaking, because he doesn't want to do this and yet he's here and he's actually giving up. "I'm sorry."

"Is that all you can say?" Coach snaps, and though he's angry, Roden can see his worry and desperation. "We have a month and a half before championships and you spring this up on me. A month and a fucking half, Roden, do you hear me? Are you sick? Is that what this is about—why you haven't been attending training?"

I can't swim, he wants to yell. I'm suffocating in the water, how the hell am I going to do championships if I can't even do a fucking lap?

His mouth stays shut. Coach exhales heavily and firmly places his hand on the table. "Look, kid. You've been on my team since the very first day you've entered this school, and if you think I'm stupid enough to believe that you're quitting without an acceptable reason, then you're wrong. Find it and come back to me. Mull your decision over, and when you do, I hope it's what you and I both want to hear, because you may want to give up on your talent, potential, and skills, but I ain't that easily. You got that?"

Roden closes his eyes and nods. Coach Miller reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. "Roden. You're a good kid. I don't want to see you out of the water so soon because it's what you love. I see that, so don't bother lying to me. You've only swam a few meters, and I believe that you can swim miles. It's why I need you stay and why I need you to be in the national team. Do you understand?"

Roden nods again, too ashamed to look him in the eyes. Coach lets him go.

He feels numb as he walks out of his office. When his eyes meet the olympic-sized pool the university houses, he bends down and brushes his fingertips through its ripples. Roden feels the relief it gives and the urge to dive in rushes through his veins. It feels as though it's always been his safe haven, like it never stopped.

"You have it, don't you?"

The voice belongs to Toby Remmington, a fellow Tanker who's in a year below Roden. Roden stands and tilts his head to the side, confused as to what he's referring to. Toby sighs. "Is it why you're trying to quit?"

He blinks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The Hanahaki Disease," Toby clarifies. Roden's gaze shifts to his hand where the younger is holding a plastic bag with a blood-stained rhododendron petal inside. Roden's eyes widen. "This is from you, isn't it?"

"How did you—"

"You weren't exactly thorough with cleaning the gutters when you threw up."

"Fuck."

"No, hey, it's alright. I was gonna throw it out after I showed it to you. You were really out of it during our last competition at St. Patrick's and I—I just had to make sure it was you."

Roden's still confused. "Why?"

Toby rubs the nape of his neck with his free hand and lets out a breath. "Last year, I took two weeks off of training. You probably don't remember, but it was when we had that medley competition at Mountain View and Warren Ellis was chosen as my replacement for the freestyle stroke."

He remembers. "I asked Coach about it and he said you were sick."

"Yeah, I was." Toby chuckles, walking over to the trash bin to dispose the plastic bag. "Yeah, I, um. I had the Disease then," he says quietly. "I got the surgery and needed to recover."

Roden kind of figured, and he doesn't know if he wants to hear this, but he asks, "What happened?"

His teammate laughs, but it's humorless and empty and sad. "I'm not sure if it was the stupidest thing I've ever done, but the plant...once it was out of my lungs, it felt like a part of me was missing. Like my heart had been ripped out," he mutters, and his hand comes up to clutch at the collar of his shirt. "The pain while I had the Disease was nothing compared to the hollowness after the surgery, because I looked at the girl I used to love and I couldn't...I couldn't understand how I'd ever felt something for her." Toby's voice breaks. When he looks at Roden, his eyes are pained and regretful. "I almost came to resent her."

Roden's jaw hardens. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want you to know the consequences of the alternative," Toby answers harshly. "If you decide on the surgery so you wouldn't give up swimming, this is the price you'll have to pay—you'll forget what it feels like to be alive around the person you loved. You'll hate them. You'll never want to see them again."

"I'm not you and I don't decide on the easy way out."

"Careful with your words, Roden," he warns with a piercing glare. "I'm not your enemy. I've been through the same shit you're going through right now—deciding on things is the worst repercussion of the fucking Disease, and no choice is easy. I know you're scared, but your life literally depends on the decisions you make."

"I'm not scared." I'm fucking terrified.

The younger sees right through his lie, but he murmurs, "You should be. I'll see you around."

*

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