You had known Heiji Hattori since both were children, the bond forged through countless adventures and shared laughter. To you, Heiji was more than a friend; he was the sun that lit up your world. But you had never dared to tell Heiji about your feelings. How could you, when Heiji was always so carefree, so unaware of the depth of your gaze or the warmth of your touch?

As both grew older, Heiji became closer to a girl named Kazuha. You noticed the way Heiji’s eyes softened when he spoke to her, the way his laughter seemed brighter in her presence. A cold knot formed in your chest. He must be in love with her, you thought bitterly. And who could blame him? Kazuha was kind, brave, and beautiful in a way that seemed effortless.

The knot in your chest tightened day by day, until one night you woke up coughing. At first, you thought it was nothing—a cold, perhaps. But then you saw them: small, delicate petals stained with blood in his trembling hands. Your heart sank. Hanahaki Disease.

The vines began to grow inside you, wrapping around your lungs, stabbing you with every breath. The flowers bloomed where your unspoken feelings festered, a cruel beauty that mocked you. Yet you said nothing. You couldn’t burden Heiji with this, not when he seemed so happy.

Heiji, of course, remained oblivious. He would grin and ruffle the your hair, dragging him along on new escapades. You would smile back, hiding the pain that gnawed at you with every step. Heiji’s closeness was both a blessing and a curse, a fleeting joy that left behind an ache so deep it felt like drowning.

As the petals spilled from your lips in secret, you wondered how long you could endure. How long you could pretend that everything was fine, even as the flowers inside you threatened to consume you whole.