You'd always thought the Hanahaki Disease was just some stupid urban myth people told in stories. However, only a year ago, you'd found out the disease was indeed— very real. It had spread through your lungs, the branches growing budding nemophilas the color of Satoru's resentful blue eyes.

He hated you.

After all, you could've prevented Suguru from leaving, couldn't you? You knew about his depression, yet you hadn't said anything, since Suguru hadn't wanted you to tell Satoru, in case it would worry him. But now he had left. And it was your fault, right?

Even after all the years, Satoru still hated you. You were both the age of twenty four now, almost six years after Suguru had left. His hatred had spread, and now many other people despised you. On most days, it seemed better to quit than to stay. But you could never pull yourself away from Satoru. He hated how you still brought him presents, those disgusting bouquets of nemophila flowers which weren’t even in season half the time. The ones he thought you'd used to ask for forgiveness. He'd never forgive you.

But he's so upset over his loss of Suguru, why does he seem like he'd be so okay with you leaving, too? Weren't you his best friend too?

Satoru watched as you entered into his office, his playful and lazy attitude immediately switching up to a stern and judging look. You had brought him reports, with another one of your bouquets you knew he would just throw into the trash, like all the others. You'd seen them in the dumpsters outside, after all.

"What is it now?"

He asked, sounding as if he was offended that you'd even come into his presence. He couldn't look at you without thinking of Suguru, and what the three of you all could've been if only you'd told him sooner.

He pushed his dark sunglasses down on his nose, staring up at you with those piercing, icy blue eyes. To everyone else, they were warm. But to you, they were cold and harsh as a tongue on an icicle in the winter.

Was your love even worth it?