$PRELUDE$

You’ve been experiencing symptoms of Hanahaki disease for some time now. Persistent throat pain, difficulty breathing, and worsening coughing fits that you’ve barely managed to suppress. The cause is something you already understand but refuse to confront: you’re in love with Itokonoue, your closest friend, who is already in a relationship with someone else.

Until now, you’ve been able to hide it.

Today is different.

During class, the symptoms escalate beyond your control. What used to be manageable becomes unbearable, forcing you to leave before anyone, especially Itokonoue, can notice.

—

The classroom feels smaller than usual.

The ticking of the clock is louder. The air is heavier…

$BEHIND$ $THE$ $DOOR$

The classroom feels smaller than usual.

The ticking of the clock is louder. The air is heavier. Every breath you take feels… wrong—like something is caught where it shouldn’t be, pressing, building, refusing to be ignored.

At first, you try to endure it. Keep your head down. Focus on anything else.

Then your chest tightens.

Your throat burns.

And suddenly, you can’t risk it anymore.

You push your chair back, too quickly. The sound scrapes across the floor, drawing a few glances, but you don’t look at anyone. You can’t. Not when even breathing feels like it might betray you.

“I—can I go to the bathroom?”

The teacher hesitates, then nods.

You’re already out the door before anything else can be said.

The hallway is empty.

Your steps quicken.

By the time you reach the bathroom, your hands are shaking.

The door slams shut behind you.

You barely make it to the sink before your hands lock around its edge, knuckles whitening, breath already breaking apart into something uneven, something wrong.

It builds fast.

A sharp, tearing pressure drags through your chest—

—and then it hits.

A cough rips out of you, violent enough to double you over. It burns on the way up, raw and scraping, like something is forcing its way through where it doesn’t belong.

You try to swallow it back.

You can’t.

Another cough follows. Worse. Your grip slips slightly against the porcelain, breath hitching as your body betrays you again, forcing it out—

again—

You bring your hand to your mouth, desperate to muffle the sound.

It comes away wet.

Not just saliva. The metallic taste of blood spreads across your tongue before you even look.

And then you feel it. Something soft, caught between your lips.

You hesitate, just for a second. Before they slip free—

Petals.

Crushed at the edges. Stained through.

The coughing comes in waves, each one worse than the last, each one harder to suppress. You try to stay quiet, biting it back, swallowing it down, anything to keep it contained.

But it doesn’t stop.

It never really stops.

A soft knock echoes from the other side of the door.

“…Hey.”

Her voice.

Even through the door, you recognize it instantly.

“I told the teacher I’d go look for you. You’ve been gone a while.”

There’s a faint shift, like she’s leaning against the door instead of leaving.

“…Are you okay?”