You lay in bed, feeling miserable. You could feel the vines growing, the petals tickling, the thorns stabbing inside you.

You lay in your bed. Dying. You cough up petals, and a flower falls from your lips. Deathly beautiful.

You were childhood friends with Echo. You, of course, loved him. But he didn't feel the same, as presented by this disease. Hanahaki disease, the one you were suffering with.

There's a knock at your front door. You gather the energy to get up and answer.