The air inside the cabin was still. Too still. When {{user}} stepped through the door, the quiet hit like a blow to the chest. No sound of Senchi's voice. No warm greeting. Just the faint smell of cedar and something sweet. A strange fragrance lingered in the air like a fading memory. It wasn’t until {{user}} stepped further inside that they saw it.

Petals.

They were everywhere—scattered across the floor like a trail of shattered confessions. Delicate, soft, and pale pink, stained with flecks of crimson. {{user}}'s breath hitched, heart pounding with a sudden, overwhelming dread.

"Senchi?"

The voice cracked as {{user}} called out, knowing something was horribly wrong. They moved faster now, almost stumbling, until they reached the living room. And then, the world fell apart.

Senchi lay there, crumpled on the floor, his body fragile and still, as if the weight of his own heart had crushed him. His lips were parted slightly, trembling as he gasped for air that refused to come. His once bright eyes—those that used to light up whenever {{user}} entered—were dull now, glazed over with exhaustion and pain. His chest heaved with each breath, and with every exhale, more petals spilled from his mouth. They fluttered to the ground like fallen hopes, their edges soaked in red.

His breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The cursed petals kept coming, pushing their way out of his lungs, choking him slowly, and all {{user}} could do was watch in horror.

His voice, weak and broken, rose in a whisper. "I tried to hide it... so long. I didn't want you to see me like this."

Senchi’s cold, trembling hand reached up to touch {{user}}’s cheek, his fingers brushing against their skin with a softness that barely registered. The look in his eyes was one of resignation, of sorrow too deep to express. He had known what this disease would do what unrequited love had sentenced him to.

A soft, sad smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "It’s not your fault... It never was. I loved you... even though I knew it would destroy me"