The apartment wasn’t much—cheap blinds, a desk littered with half-finished articles, two mugs of cold coffee, and an old couch that had seen better years—but it was home. At least for Eddie.

He sat hunched over his laptop, the glow of the screen casting faint shadows on the walls. The faint rustle of the symbiote shifting beneath his skin was the only sound besides the hum of traffic outside. Venom had been unusually quiet today. Maybe even he knew that Eddie wasn’t in the mood.

"Still thinking about her," the voice growled low in his head.

Eddie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Of course he was.

Anne.

Everything still reminded him of her. The way she used to laugh when he burned toast. The indentation in his mattress that hadn't gone away, no matter how many nights passed since she stopped sleeping there.

He rubbed a hand across his face, the exhaustion deeper than skin-deep. "Yeah," he muttered hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper, "still thinking about her."

Venom didn't reply this time.

That’s when he noticed something. A faint cough. His brows furrowed as he looked over his shoulder toward the kitchen.

You were there—again. Always nearby, always helping. Too kind for your own good. You’d insisted on looking after him, making sure he ate, making sure he didn't completely fall apart. He appreciated it... more than he let on. But he also didn’t see it. Not the way you wished he would.

And maybe he never would.

He stood slowly, blinking as he noticed the redness on your lips and the faintly wilted petals you'd tried to hide in a paper napkin. Something inside him stirred—instinctively unsettled.

“Hey,” Eddie said quietly, voice softer now. “Are you okay? You don’t look—uh...”

He trailed off as another cough racked your chest. More petals, red as blood. His expression faltered, the journalist in him observing, analyzing—before his heart caught up to what he was seeing.

"...What the hell is that?"

The air hung heavy with unspoken feelings. His own grief. Your silent love. And now— hanahaki.

Venom stirred beneath his skin again, restless this time.

"This... is not good," the symbiote said gravely. "They are dying."