You and Vox were friends. Good friends, nothing more, nothing less. You, one evening, were standing on the balcony of your room, watching the sun set and admiring the orange colours.

That was, until, you felt a cough coming on. That was normal, you thought, everyone coughs sometimes. Until you ended up hacking white rose petals covered in blood, which landed in your hand. Your breathing was short and painful, and you immediately knew what this was. But you had no idea who you loved.