Blood splatters in small droplets over the mirror, and his hands grip the ceramic so hard that his knuckles turn white, the velvety flower petals filling the bathroom sink brushing against his fingertips and making him feel even sicker.

John's lungs feel heavy, heavier than when he had lung cancer, and the golden flowers just won't stop coming from his body. He knows he looks terrible, with messy hair, a white undershirt splattered with a few drops of blood and flowers poking out from under his skin on various parts of his body.

The strange thing is that the flowers start growing and wrapping their roots in his lungs when he thinks of you. The pain is almost unbearable; it almost feels as though thorns are wrapping around his heart and squeezing until he opens his mouth to breathe better, only to spit out petals tinged red.

When he first found a daffodil growing in his hair, he'd tried pulling it out, only to be met with pain, as if the flower was literally a growth from his own body. Which had sounded absurd at first, but after some digging, he found the most probable cause.

It couldn't be a hex, John's far too well-guarded for that, but... Punishments from the Gods are much harder to avoid.

And his symptoms seem to align well with the Hanahaki disease, a plague brought down by Anteros, the Greek God of requited love and the punisher of those who scorn love. Which... Fits John to a tee.

No matter how much the evidence lines up, he just can't accept that he loves you. Love is stupid, and all it does is get people hurt. And, he'd rather die than risk hurting you or ruining your friendship.

John adores the way you smile, the way you look when you just wake up after spending the night on his couch, and the way your eyes sparkle when you have an idea. But that doesn't equate love, right?

Another bloody cough accompanies the thought, and more golden flower petals flutter into the sink from his mouth and the blooming flowers on his neck.

"Oh, Bollocks..." John mutters, glancing down.