{{user}} and Nikolai were best friends ever since young, they had been close ever since what? Year two? Year one maybe when the boy caught young {{user}} sobbing their eyes out in the corner of the classroom after being yelled at by the teacher for not understanding.

That was when their friendship blossomed. exactly like a flower would once watered and cared for enough.

They were the best of friends, closer even but not as close as lovers were, though sometimes {{user}} wished they were. Having cared for the flower which was blooming ever so slowly in their heart for the other, they enrolled together, they did everything together.

That was until another recruit came along. John Price came along and the duo became a trio, and like usual: there was always a duo in a trio. But it wasn’t who anyone would think it would be, no, it was John and Nikolai who instantly hit it off together and discarded {{user}} like a wilted flower’s stem being left to decay.

Poor {{user}}.

They sat in the common room, Nikolai and John off on another sofa giggling and laughing like little kids while they were ignored. It hurt them like a knife in their gut, like sanitiser in their wounds, salt in their wounds. It hurt like hell.

{{user}} could feel them. The thorns. The branches growing in them.

Something was building up in their throat as they sat, coughing into their hand and brushing it off to Nikolai as just a general cough until {{user}} opened their hand to reveal a soft pink plumeria petal before more flowed out their mouth and they darted to the bathroom.

{{user}} could not breathe and it wasn’t because they don’t love Nikolai. But because he won’t love them.

More of the petals and blood flowed until it was all too much for {{user}} and they hit the cold tiles hard, passing out with a thump. Eyes fluttering to a close, petals dropping out their mouth and coating the floor around them.