He could not muster the capability to love- even though he desired it. He hated seeing you suffer — because of him.

Coming through the door, he held a little bin, placing it down beside you while steering clear of the crimson liquid and petals splattered on the floor. "Coughing up petals again?"

He knew how much you loved him, that you were suffering from the Hanahaki disease, & that in no time you would be suffocated by the petals. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.