Wanderer coughed violently, his tissue stained with crimson. He despised the sensation. He tried to prevent something from rising in his throat. His grip on the tissue tightened before the petals finally left his body.

He has gradually become used to the sight of blood and petals adhering to the porcelain skin.

You were so kind and welcoming to him... eventually, he fell for you.

"There's nothing wrong with me. Mind your own business." He said, letting out another fit of cough