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DAY 5
The first time it happened he thought of it as some sick joke. It was a normal coughing fit, until it wasn't, a scratching sensation in his throat as he felt something else come up with it. When he brought himself to look down at his palm, in the middle sat white petals, alongside a few specks of blood.
He had tried to think of any logical explanation to ease his racing mind, but even he couldn't figure anything out. The second time, the almost choking sounds paired with the gagging made his stomach turn, as he retched up whole flowers out onto the floor.
Pure white, long and almond shaped petals, with bright orange, round anthers. The white stained with seeping red, creeping into every crevice and wrinkle. Orange blossoms, an incredibly fragrant flower, the flower that blossoms on orange trees. The situation made his head spin, as he slumped into the wall once again, chest heaving, questions still unanswered.
He could feel the same panic from the first time this happened bubbling up again, his head throbbing, spinning as he leant it back, resting on the wall, staring up at the ceiling.
He could feel it getting worse ever since the first time it appeared, a subtle yet always present scratching feeling deep in his lungs, a rattling cough which always resulted in blood turning up or a few stray petals. It had been bearable to begin with, he only buried himself deeper in himself, his silence never that out of the ordinary for him.
He had never necessarily been one to strike up conversation, or go out of his way to be more social than needed. But, he knew someone else was, giving him a looming sense of unease and uncertainty, waiting for when he knew that someone would try and approach him.
He had resorted to hiding away in the less crowded spaces of the kitchen, despite the slight worry that it seemed to be causing. He could worry about that later, he had more pressing and important matters to focus on.
He had been restlessly searching since the first time this had happened, but had nothing come to light about it, which only furthered his concern.
It was getting worse and worse with the passing days, the amount of blood he choked up very, very alarming, yet he firmly refused to discuss it with the others, he could handle it on his own.
In the middle of one of his books, he could feel the uneasy feeling deep in his chest, rising up slowly. It built up until he couldn't contain it, between hacking and coughing, the petals tumbled out alongside droplets of blood, pattering out onto the floor.
He clutched his head, feeling it throb and feeling himself swoon lightheadedly, thankful that he was already in a sitting position. The scene still made him feel sick to his stomach no matter how many times he's seen it.
After extensive research, he finally found the cause of all his problems. It matched the symptoms perfectly, yet he desperately wished it didn't upon seeing the definition; ''a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals, caused by one-sided love.''
He had been avoiding and averting feelings he felt for a long time, pushing them down and allowing them to fester, not ready to accept them. This threatened to force him to finally deal with those feelings, whether he felt like it was time or not.
He could've fell for anyone, yet he decided to fall for an incredibly stupid, annoying citrus who he knew he could never have, which only worsened it. There was something about his goofy grin, albeit disgusting in consideration of his teeth, that made him feel things he hadn't felt in a while, for someone he never thought he'd feel those for.
His optimistic energy paralleled Pear's own in a way that made him feel like breaking out of his shell and socializing more, something he'd never dare do before.
He could act like his own stubbornness was the only barrier, but he knew that Orange belonged to another. He could never put himself in a position that got in-between him and Passion, they were meant for each other in every way, the way they'd fluster around each other, how they'd get defensive when questioned about said feelings by people, acting freshly in love and both completely oblivious.
He couldn't forgive himself if he got in the middle of that, even if that resulted in something worse for him.
''It ends when the beloved returns their feelings romantically, strong friendship is not enough.'' He had adamantly denied his friendship with Orange before, never quite knowing why, perhaps not accepting that he had starting to grow on him, but with this newfound attraction unveiled, maybe because he wished it was something more than just that.
He had longed for something more, not knowing what it was and grasping for straws, yet when discovered he tried everything to hide it back away, unsatisfied with the results it yielded.
''Or when the victim dies.'' This was the truth that he had come to terms with, the something worse. He had always been paranoid, fearing what comes after death, the eternalness of perishing, ceasing to exist with no knowledge, no consciousness of it, the fact that one day you'll just disappear and no longer do anything, feel anything, be anyone.
But when finally faced with the possibility, he felt a mixture of what he didn't know how to describe, or deal with at the same time, and it scared him, not the fear of death, or of what comes after it, but of the complete lack of control of those feelings.
He knew it could be cured by surgical removal, he could continue to live his life normally and move on, but his feelings would disappear alongside it, and he didn't know if that was something he felt worth living for.
These feelings plagued him, clinging onto him like a leech and sucking out his vitality, yet he couldn't part with them. He couldn't imagine living in a world where he felt nothing for Orange, despite how much it troubled him. He was fully prepared to part with his own life if it didn't mean the humiliation of finally confessing.
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DAY 4
Orange had finished organising his kazoo collection, albeit it being a shoddy job, and stood back, marvelling at it from afar. Most people wouldn't generally consider them a collectors item, but that didn't deter him.
He'd been asked countless times before what the difference between any of them were, what made it worth having so many and to that he took great offense.
It didn't matter what they thought about them, anyway, he loved all of his kazoos even if people didn't recognise their value. However, he had some more important business to attend to today.
He had many things on his agenda to do today, but most importantly he had to talk to Pear. He kept finding him popping up in all strange places around the kitchen, every time he wanted to hang out it felt like doing a scavenger hunt.
But when he did find him, he also never seemed to want to hang out anymore, it was almost like he didn't like him, which would be insane because they're best friends. He gathered up a few little items and put them in his non-existent pockets before going out to try find Pear.
He made sure to search every place he'd already found Pear lurking before, just in case, but found no results. It appeared this was going to be a bit of a peskier chore than he thought, luckily he knew the layout of the kitchen off by heart.
After an extensive search, he finally found him reading one of his books off to the side somewhere. He didn't particularly look like he wanted to be disturbed, but something like that never deterred Orange, or rather he never noticed when somebody didn't want to talk to him.
''Pear, Hey Pear!'' He beamed, Pear's eyes averted up to him slowly and he let out an exasperated sigh, before snapping his book shut, knowing he wouldn't get any further with Orange around.
''What is it this time, Orange?'' He was exactly the person Pear was hoping he wouldn't run into today, his condition was flaring up and he knew that he wouldn't be able to hide it from him. Especially if he wanted to go do something crazy like he usually did. He knew if he started spluttering up petals everywhere, Orange would panic and all of a sudden everybody in the kitchen would know about it.
''I just wanted to hang out with my super best f-rind, hahaha!'' It was slightly pitiful that he always laughed at his own jokes, especially considering almost nobody else did with him, but Pear couldn't deny that he didn't find them a little endearing.
He, however, made a point to roll his eyes immediately after it was said, ignoring his subtle feelings of disappointment. It subconsciously stung a little that best friends was all he'd ever be considered.
''We aren't best friends, plus, I'm reading right now.'' Orange leaned over him, glancing at the book title before reading it out loud to himself, then exclaiming about how it sounded boring.
''Cmon, Pear, it'll be super fun, please, please, please?'' He grovelled, looking at Pear with pleading eyes, making him soften a little bit, but no matter how much Orange pleaded he knew it was the best to send him away, best for them both.
He couldn't risk him finding out about what was going on and it causing a big scene, he could handle it on his own, just like he had been. ''No, I'm sure you can find someone else who'll talk to you, I'm busy.'' He had said this every time he was asked to hang out, or talk, he knew somebody would eventually get suspicious.
Orange looked a bit dejected, before composing himself, the grin still plastered onto his face. ''You're probably right, thanks Pear!'' He sped off eagerly.
It felt like he was burning bridges between them constantly pushing Orange away like that, but it felt like his only option, even if not the best one. He had to reason with himself that it would work out eventually, despite how much it stung.
It worked in his favour that Orange didn't seem to be questioning it too much, easily persuaded by any thing Pear said to dissuade him from talking to him, oblivious.
He could feel the lack of sleep slowly creeping up to him, fatigue ever present in all of his muscles. He wasn't sure if the conversation, or lack thereof, had helped in draining him.
He'd spent countless nights searching through dead ends of leads on his condition, trying to cope with his mortality, desperate for a sudden last minute solution to come save him.
It felt like no matter which way he looked, there was no light at the end of the tunnel, no more doors left to open. He didn't consider himself religious, but the thought of a possible life after death seemed to look a great amount more comforting all of a sudden.
It felt absurd that he was reasoning with his death, despite numerous alternative paths laid out for him, but he'd take this one gladly over any others.
He'd begun feeling a certain way whenever he saw Orange and Passion together, apathy swirled in with jealousy. He felt a resentment towards himself every time he caught it, Passion was a lovely person and didn't deserve to have this directed at her.
He stumbled up to his feet on an impulse, immediately regretting it as he began to swoon and his head pulsed. He wasn't sure what motivated him to stand up, or where he was trying to go exactly.
He just wanted to leave, go somewhere, away from here. He clutched his book to his chest and sped through the rest of the kitchen, not wanting to attract any more unwanted attention.
He internally cursed when he heard his name called out, making a split second decision of not stopping, purposefully ignoring the annoyed glare it earned him. His head was swimming with more thoughts than he was particularly comfortable with, paired with the sickening onslaught of nausea looming over him.
Once he made it to his room, he slumped against the door, slowly sliding down it until he was sat on the floor, his head hitting the door with a soft thunk. He didn’t know what had possessed him to flee, yet in the moment it felt like the only option, his mind urging him to.
It was fitting that he would be the one cursed with this god-forsaken condition, and simultaneously most likely the only one who’d rather die from it rather than confess. He could feel it worsening day by day, be it through a growing amount of blood or the now full-grown flowers that come tumbling out of his throat rather than stray petals.
He’d been struggling keeping on top of the façade he was showing to placate the rest of them, a few hacking coughs slipping through there and there, dried blood or people questioning his sudden avoidance of them. He insisted he was fine, sending them away, pushing away everybody who approached him with a tad bit of concern.
He slowly closed his eyes, the pounding of his head and the desire to be rid of it lulling him into sleep. He could only hope for the next day to spare some pity on him, or at least be merciful.
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DAY 3
Pear awoke with a throbbing head and an even sourer attitude, judging by the colour of the few stray glimpses of light he caught through his window, his nap had already crept into mid-day. He should probably do something productive with his day for once instead of spending it lounging around feeling sorry for himself and stewing in his own self-pity.
He shifted himself upwards, ignoring the crick in his neck as he lifted it from the position it had been in all night, groaning as it let out a satisfying crack. He sluggishly forced himself up, already feeling the sinking fatigue, the one he pleaded to be gone by the time he woke up, sink in.
He felt like every day was some continuous monotonous loop, the one thing keeping his life less mundane, albeit significantly more dangerous, was Orange, the only person who he couldn’t be around, the one person he had to keep sending away despite how much it would fill him with guilt.
He knew that at some point the citrus would start believing it was something he did to drive him away, he didn’t deserve that, yet he couldn’t tell him why it was anything but his fault, why it was him that was the problem. He sunk his head into his hands, letting out a defeated sigh before glancing over to his mirror.
He looked generally unkempt, he knew he hadn’t been on top of everything, especially not his appearance but it was starting to get to a point. He ran his fingers over the deep eyebags cultivating underneath his eyes, not too unfamiliar due to restless nights but more prominent than they usually are.
He slipped out of his room, the door creaking on its hinges, he winced as the light hit his eyes and subtly recoiled back. He let his eyes adjust for a minute before making his way into the main part of the kitchen, looking for a new spot to wallow in his misery in where he hadn’t been spotted prior, before remembering he promised himself to do something productive for once and sulking.
He sat down in the windowsill of a window he hadn’t even known existed prior, feeling the dull burn of the sun rays hitting his back, it stung but he could deal with it, he didn’t have the energy to force himself up for a second time. He reached into his bag, rummaging his hand around before realising he’d neglected to bring a book with him.
He huffed and laid back against the windowsill, covering his eyes with his hands and waiting for something to take him, preferably something painless, he’d already dealt with enough constant pain for one lifetime. A silhouette slowly loomed over him; he thought his prayers were answered before a sickly yellow smile came into view.
‘’Pear! Hi Pear!’’ He groaned, slowly turning over away from Orange, hoping that he’d started hallucinating and that he wasn’t right in front of him. Alas, luck wasn't in his favour and he wasn't a mirage, meaning he would have to deal with him today.
He couldn't make another excuse again, after yesterday it would just make it look like he was trying to avoid him, which he was, but that was besides the point. He'd just have to roll with whatever they were doing today.
"Hey Orange.." He sat back up, stretching his muscles again which were filled with dull ache, repositioning his bag which was resting against his side. Orange practically buzzed over to his side, sitting next to him and swinging his feet over the windowsill.
"So, since you a-pear-antly were busy yesterday, I've got tons of ideas of what we can do today while we hang out!" He beamed, Pear looking away. He couldn't handle looking at the smile he fell in love with today, despite how gross and unhygienic it was.
Orange droned on about what plans he had for the day, Pear only showing mild enthusiasm before beginning to put that on the back burner, staring off and beginning to spiral again. He snapped back when a hand was waved aggressively infront of his face.
"Peaarr! So, what did you like best, personally I think they were all great, we should totally hang out more so we can do them all, buutt, if you had to pick one, what-"
"Orange." Pear snapped unintentionally, voice laced with a slightly aggressive tone as he felt a migraine coming on. He immediately looked away partially in shame and guilt for doing so, he'd just been irritable lately and it wasn't Oranges fault.
"Sorry dude.. sorry." He ran a hand over his face, Orange looked away, a little awkward since he didn't know how to approach this, pulling on his hoodie strings a little as a nervous habit. Pear picked this up and continued the conversation for him.
"..We can go find some of the others and like, hang out as a group if you want?" If there was multiple people the attention would be off of him, or atleast divided between all of them.
Orange looked a bit dejected since he had come for just the two of them to hang out, but he'd do anything while hanging out with Pear, the other hadn't wanted to actually do anything with him lately so if this was all he could get he'd gladly take it.
Orange just nodded, they went off to go find the others. After they had rounded everybody up and decided on what to do, they hopped in the car, Pear being the only one responsible enough to actually drive- and the only one with a license that isn't fake.
Pear angled the rear view mirror, glancing into the back. Orange was sat next to Passion, and oh how he hated it, he didn't even know why he hated it, this was his idea in the first place, his fault, yet he couldn't help but feel jealous of her, jealous of what she had with him. He wanted to be her, or atleast be in her position.
He tore his eyes away from them after a painfully long while, he needed to keep his eyes on the road to avoid sending himself to an even earlier grave. They had decided to go to an arcade mainly due to Orange's persistence, despite Pear wanting anything but a place with neverending stimuli of noises and bright flashing colours. However, technically Orange was the one who wanted to hang out in the first place, so it should be his decision.
Pear pressed his back against the wall, furthest away from the main centre area of the arcade as humanly possible, though not before checking the wall of gum or other mysterious substances. He mainly acted as the parent off to the side, making once in a while comments to slow down or be nice, trying to avoid them trashing the place because God knows he'd be the one who would have to pay for it.
Orange had practically beat everyone else on ever game before so nobody quite felt like feeling the same humiliation another time over, much to his dismay. He seemed to be fine finding stuff to occupy himself alone though, even if be most definitely would've preferred doing something with another person. He never really liked solitude despite that being the best option for everyone around him to not get hurt or killed, he thought.
He scrolled aimlessly on his phone, choosing to ignore the depressingly lacklustre amount of notifications and messages. He eventually slipped it back into his pocket, feeling the familiar scratching sense in the back of his throat. He felt around the outside with his hand before huffing in frustration. He heard pattering footsteps speeding up and increasing in volume, not having time to register before Orange practically slid in infront of him.
"Peaaarrrr I got you something!" He felt the force of something smacking him full force in the face before landing in his arms, Orange looking a little sheepish as if saying 'too high?' in reference to his aim, obviously not meaning to have lobbed it directly at him. Pear looked down at the gift that was graciously delivered right to him, running his fingers over the fabric up and down.
It was a plush, one from one of the shelves Orange had redeemed some of his tickets for. He hadn't really ever been a person for soft toys but it looked cute, he guessed, kind of like a when you find an ugly toy or ornament and feel oddly maternal to it because you think it looks ugly-cute sort of way. He couldn't help but feel grateful and oddly flustered at just the thought of receiving a gift from him.
He acted indifferent but he knew this would be sitting on his bedside cabinet or on his bed for the good part of a while like a trophy, a bit hard to hide when you share a room with the person who gifted you it. Orange seemed a little deflated but was still relatively beaming, it was obvious that he was still aiming to impress Pear like originally planned despite how many people were invited out, he needed to get him out of this weird funk.
"It's.. cute I guess, thanks." Pear stated, his energy not quite able to match the others clearly, but this didn't deter Orange, who was bouncing on the balls of his feet, seemingly not bothered with how much he liked it but the fact that he liked it at all, considering this present a success. It was kinda funny that he trouble himself like this to make Pear happy when he was usually always in a mood naturally anyway and it never bothered Orange before.
"Well, what best friend would I be if I didn't get you something after dragging you all the way out here!" Pear had to remind himself that he was only his best friend every time the other said it, no matter how much it stung. He would tell himself the next time he heard it he would be fine hearing it, he was never as prepared as he thought.
He deflected and immediately started thinking about anything else, like how he didn't want Orange to think that he dragged him out here and he had done something wrong by wanting to spend time with him.
However, whenever he tried to get the words out nothing came, like they were stuck. He needed to have a moment somewhere, it was too much here, he pushed through the other people and made a beeline straight for the bathroom, gripping his trembling hands down onto the sink basin, feeling a heavy weight in his chest and a rising in his throat, gagging before retching over the sink, blood dropping into the white bowl and dripping down the sides, his head swooning and vision blurring out.
He looked down at the pool of red staining the bottom of it, his throat feeling like thorns were slowly dragged up through it prickling every side, flowers floating, half submerged in the red seeping into the petals lingered and waded through in a way that made him feel nauseous. He steadied himself with a nervous shaky hand, pushing off of the sink and trying to stand without toppling over and swaying.
He looked into the mirror after splashing his face with water, trying to dispose of the evidence, flowers carefully discarded into the bin and blood violently washed away with an onslaught of clean water sending it into the drain. He looked just about as drained as he felt emotionally, slightly sunken and tired features, a pale pallor to him undoubtedly explained by the episode he just had, he slowly gripped the gift he was given in an attempt to ground himself.
It was safe to say everybody noticed when he came out, meaning he'd unnecessarily worried tons of people with his problems, again. He could tell Orange seemed the most worried out of everyone as he had seen him suddenly rush off out of nowhere, but he couldn't bring himself to look in his direction quite yet. He clung the gift to his side before pulling out his phone again, deciding that if he couldn't see them staring it was like they weren't there at all.
The drive home was more tolerable, normally he'd be mildly annoyed at the excessive chatter but it allowed him the opportunity for his worry to slowly dissipate and focus on calming down, now he felt like he wasn't the centre of everyone's worried attention.
He took a breath in, focusing and exhaling, he didn't want to acknowledge that he was slowly worsening more and more, that he was on borrowed time that might just feel like not enough for him, that he didn't want to face death yet so early and inexperienced and scared on what might be waiting after.
He saw Passion's hand graze over Oranges and only wished that it could've been him there instead, it would've been so much simpler if he was there, if he had everything she had, if he was her. If he was a her. She had everything he could've ever wanted and didn't know it.
She had worked so hard to finally try get their relationship to the point where they could finally confess their feelings towards each other and Pear just felt like tearing that to shreds in a fit of rage, seeing her and Orange act like a couple, even if he knew he was completely unjustified.
He gripped the wheel tightly, trying to calm himself down now for a completely separate reason. It would be less painful for him if he just accepted that Orange was in love with someone else and his feelings weren't going to be reciprocated, even if that truth felt like it was slowly destroying him.
It wasn't meant to happen and that was that, Orange didn't even like guys, he needed to stop putting himself through the game of second guessing and overthinking every little interaction as a sign, it brought his hopes up just to knock him crashing back down worse and spiralling harder than before. He would just have to get over it.
The one thing he knew he never could.
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DAY 2
Pear had woken up a little ago and promptly brewed himself a coffee and took a unrecommended amount of cough medication, not his exact problem but it had helped for the past few days and that was good enough for him. He tapped his foot slightly to try ease his worry, if he hadn't had a dependency on coffee before he definitely did now, he needed it to push through the day, there wasn't much of a motivator when you knew you were probably going to die a few days later.
He rubbed his eyes, still slightly groggy and tired despite the fact he'd already slept through a good portion of the day. Though, hed been awake long enough for it to grow suspicious that he hadn't seen anybody else around for the entire time, alongside the fact that Orange hadn't thought it comical to wake him up early a long time ago.
He browsed through his wardrobe after slowly retreating to his room and shrugged on a shirt, struggling to button it through his periods of lightheadedness which made his vision foggy and his head pound which had gotten worse, hands trembling and slipping. He didn't quite care for what outfit he was wearing, as long as it covered him it was good enough and worked.
He slung his bag over his shoulder, a potentially not smart idea with the sudden motion making him practically collapse onto the wall for support. Everything spouting from his condition had just gotten worse and worse recently, leaving him weakened and overall in terrible health, and it was visible, very, to everyone.
After he had finished haphazardly shoving what he thought he needed into his bag, he put his coffee down on the side, he'd pour it out later, sure it would be easy to just do it now but honestly every little thing felt like a chore and he didn't feel like doing that right now. He left, assuming he'd find out where atleast one person went while he was wandering, not quite sure what to do yet but hopefully he'd think of an idea on the way.
He scrolled on his phone before finding a song to connect to his headphones, hoping it would help drown out anything around him, any interaction he didn't initiate himself and wasn't essential didn't need to be done. He'd been acting kind of like an ass recently, it hurt a bit but if people weren't so attached to him now it would potentially hurt them less when he..
It was still a bit daunting to think about, yet despite his episode yesterday he felt oddly numb, as if this condition came with some sort of built in apathy towards death or something. He still felt a few periods of pure panic, fear, reflection on his own mortality and what might come after. He didn't know if something being on the other side or nothing scared him the most.
He came to a stop as he spotted a familiar tuft of orange hair alongside a small group, approaching and keeping a slight distance, this didn't seem to stop the other from noticing him, and closing the gap between them. He quickly became aware that Orange was holding the hand of another familiar face, feeling a small pang of jealousy.
"Hey Pear! I thought you died or something, I hadn't seen you all day.." Orange said with a small hint of something he couldn't quite place, almost like disappointment, as if he missed him. Pear dodged his eyeline, flatly mumbling something about being tired and sleeping in, which nobody questioned since he looked like he was on deaths door.
He quickly became aware of the presence of two other people to his side though. "You'll never guess what, Pear. after all of this time Orange and Passion are actually together." He could almost feel his heart stop right there. He had no reason to feel like this, all of this had been for them. He wanted them to be happy and now they're finally together all he feels like is the need to cry, sleep forever and punch something all at once.
"Yay for them !!" Marshmallow added, but it just felt like another stab at him. "Passion asked him first obviously, because we all know that he wouldn't.. " Little Apple said with a mocking sneer, all in good fun, Orange rebutting with a barely audible 'stop..' in embarrassment.
Passion giggled slightly, her thumb sliding over Oranges hand as she held it. "Guys.. you shouldn't make fun of him, I didn't confess for years either, we're both just as guilty." She attempted to take the attention off of him, knowing he was embarrassed enough already. She didn't mind making the first move as long as they were together.
Pear tried to feel happy for them, he really tried, but he felt everything but. He felt like crying but he was so exhausted and drained physically and emotionally that he just felt empty. He wished on everything it was him, knowing how selfish that was but he couldn't bring himself to care, he never had a chance and he still somehow longed for a universe where he told him before it was too late.
"I'm.. happy for you, really." He smiled, trying to regulate himself and convince himself this was okay. It would just hurt everyone if he confessed now, Orange was in a relationship now and he hadn't much time anyway. He wasn't breaking down right now, he wasn't about to break, he wasn't, he wasn't. He knew Orange knew something was wrong but he didn't know how or want to press it.
"Haha.. thanks. I knew you would be anyway, best friends and all that." Oranges attempt to validate their friendship and let him know he was there for him only made it worse for him, he couldn't know though and he would never blame him for that. He swallowed thickly and nodded, wanting to try deter Orange from thinking too hard about him, he was meant to be happy right now and he'd come in and messed it up.
"I'll let you guys have your moment and all that, just started dating, that's a big thing..! He backed up nervously, trying to play his exit off not to arouse suspicion. "Pear, wait, can I ask you something-?" He started quickening his pace as soon as he heard this, stifling a cough into his sleeve and heading in the opposite direction, he didn't need the confrontation right now, anything that came out of Orange's mouth he couldn't play off.
As soon as he was out of range he broke, letting the pent up thoughts slowly consume him, they were happy and he couldn't help but feel jealous and hate himself for it. He never had a chance to be with Orange but he felt a kind of longing, that he missed his chance to tell him and now he never could. He couldn't let him know now.
He noticed moments between them of hand holding, gentle touches and it made him sick every time without fail, he knew he should feel happy for them after so long but he couldn't. He still tried to be supportive, it wasn't their fault he felt like this, they shouldn't feel bad for wanting to be happy together after liking each other for such a long time just because he couldn't be normal.
Passion tried reaching out to him at some point, every text left on read and every call not answered, attempts to talk to him face to face were deflected. It was like this was everyone but he specifically couldn't face her, his relationship with her had always been smaller than any else of his friends in the first place, as he never really talked with her by himself or tried to initiate any sort of conversation to get to know her, now with everything else he couldn't talk to her without feeling guilty.
Everything about him was threatening the relationship she had with Orange that she'd waited patiently for, and be didn't want to spring 'I have to confess my love to your boyfriend or ill die slowly and painfully' onto her right now. It would make things awkward with Orange and he didn't even know how she'd react, he couldn't predict that like he could with everybody else.
Over time she reluctantly stopped, not wanting to strain her relationship with Pear even further as she could tell he wasn't going to open up any time soon. He had successfully pushed everybody away who cared about him but instead of feeling the relief he expected he felt hollow, he'd burnt every bridge with everyone and he wouldn't have time to make things right.
Perhaps if not face to face he could find some way to explain everything to everyone as to not leave them in the dark to what happened, which is what he did. He'd always been more of a reader than a writer, with his difficulty to express what he felt as clearly in writing as it was in real life, he could never pick the right words or phrase it properly,
Everything seemed to go relatively smoothly until he reached Orange, he needed this to be perfect, ever the perfectionist at heart in the first place. Scrunched up paper littered the room, he sucked in a breath through his teeth in irritation, hands sliding down his face as he bounced his leg. He just needed to write what he felt, and that was the problem. How could he write this without feeling like it would make Orange feel at fault?
It just needed to be authentic, this would be the last draft, the one he would give him regardless of what it said. He slowly put the pen down after finishing, looking away and exhaling, he got all of the letters and put them in envelopes, naming them with his best cursive writing before cramming them into a side pocket of his bag. He couldn't send them out yet, not while there was still time left, he'd already accepted this situation and they would try convince him otherwise.
He just needed to act fine, be fine until then. He still had so much left that he hadn't done, but it wasn't like it mattered now. He was already prepared to die on this hill, too stubborn to weigh up any of his other options further than he had.
To confess would mean he got to keep his life, yet know Orange would never feel the same. To remove the flowers would mean he would lose any feeling he had for the other, and despite the feelings plaguing him they were exhilarating, the best he'd ever felt and he couldn't ever think of feeling nothing for Orange.
If the best option for him was death then he'd just have to accept it with open arms.
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DAY 1
If anything, all Pear could feel was a kind of peaceful serenity, like the calm before the storm. He'd honestly accepted that this was it and maybe he was ready to go. On the upside, he felt a sense of peace knowing that he'd be able to rest and not have to deal with anymore of this stress. There wasn't much he could do to change this and maybe it was okay, maybe it would all be fine.
He couldn't really remember the last time he ate something, his appetite seemed to have disappeared completely, it wasn't really like his body needed the nutrition anymore anyway, so it mostly outright refused it as it began to shut down. To keep it simple, he was dying and it showed, mostly through the fact he looked and acted like total shit.
The first thing on his list of the few things to get in order before he died was actually delivering those letters, easier said than done when going to everybody's room would attract unwanted attention. He packed his bag, putting in his favourite book for one last time, headphones and finding the energy to put on his favourite outfit. He atleast wanted to be surrounded by his favourite things if he couldn't be surrounded by his favourite person.
He slowly placed them through the cracks of every door before stopping at one, taking it in, Oranges. It was decorated with way too many stickers than could possibly be necessary to have on a door and he'd obviously painted it bright orange like nobody knew he lived there already. He felt unease pooling in his stomach before finally just slipping it through the door and walking off.
He knew the perfect place he wanted to go out, off to the side, peaceful and quiet and had a perfect view to the sunset, like a natural timer he could watch slowly count down to his death as it kept setting. He sat there for felt like minutes to him, but were hours, slowly watching the clouds drift past the window and the sway of the grass and tree leaves, the sun slowly drifting to set.
You'd think when faced with the fact you were dying soon he would panic, yet he felt a wave of peace, there was nothing he could do to prevent it and that was it, this was happening. For the first time in what felt like a while he felt free, something he didn't think he'd feel again for a long time. When he thought about his family, friends, he felt strangely apathetic, apathetic but calm and collected.
He'd reread his favorite book from cover to cover, listened to his favourite songs on repeat, wanting to enjoy a few of his favourite things here before he couldn't ever again, a few of them. He knew what he really wanted and it was the only thing he couldn't have, as fate would have it. He slowly reached into his jacket pocket he'd brought with him, as it was positively freezing, and that wasn't just his poor circulation, pulling out a tin.
He picked out a single cigarette and lit it with his lighter, it wasn't like he had to worry about the side effects anymore, couldn't catch up to a dead man, and it helped remove any lingering stress as he took a drag of it. He stubbed it out onto his jacket where the rest of the burn marks were, it wasn't like he needed to care about it anymore, he'd already used it as a makeshift way to put them out before he was dying.
As he sat there watching the sky slowly illuminate hues of taunting orange, he heard the faint sound of footsteps, unless his ears were already playing tricks on him, followed by a silhouette next to him, knees up to his chest. He slowly glanced up at the person sat next to him and it wouldn't be more fitting that it was Orange, plaguing his life and death.
Seeing his face for one last time released a wave of emotions from inside him he didn't know was buried away, feeling tears begin to prick at the corners of his eyes. Pear reached over before wrapping his arms around Orange and pulling him in, resting his head in the crook of his neck. He let out a few pathetic snivels into his shoulder.
"..Oh-" Orange said with a hint of surprise, not expecting him to have initiated the hug, he liked hugs, loved hugs a lot, but he didn't expect one from him without being the one to start it, he slowly wrapped his arms around Pear too, patting him on the back.
Pear sniffled, forcing words back down his throat without them ever having the opportunity to surface. He held him with a grip like he was scared if he let go he'd lose him.
"Pear I don't uhh, really know how to talk about this stuff but you've been acting weird.." Orange swallowed thickly out of nervousness. "..But you're my best friend and I can try listen and help??"
"..I know." Pear admitted, smiling weakly with watery eyes, happy to even he labelled by Orange as anything at this point, if the best he could get was best friend then he'd just have to take it.
"Just because I'm with Passion doesn't mean I don't have time for you know? I'm.. here." Orange scratched the back of his neck with his other hand awkwardly, not quite sure how to handle this situation as he couldn't even handle himself sometimes.
"..You should be with Passion, I'll be fine on my own dude, go celebrate or whatever, you guys finally got together, I'm happy for you." His smile became a little more strained as his vision blurred up with tears, trying to hold his voice steady.
"You sure? She wouldn't mind-" "Go." He turned his head away trying to hide the spilling tears, clenching his trembling hands in his lap, not wanting too be seen like this right now, not by him, before giving him a gentle smile.
"..I'll be okay, chill out." He tried to make a pun to reflect the abysmal temperature right now, it landing pathetically, not as good - never as good as Oranges jokes, but it still lightened the mood. Orange chucked a bit, shifting before speaking. "..Talk to you tomorrow.?"
Despite knowing there was no tomorrow in which this other could ever be fulfilled, this was his last stop, he gave a small nod of the head before responding. "..See you later." He gave him the most authentic smile he'd had in days, watching as he stood up and said goodbye before walking off, knowing it was the last time he'd ever get to see him, and maybe he should've held him tighter.
"..I love you." Pear whispered under his breath as he walked away, it was too much to say it to his face and too little to say it when he wasn't there. It wasn't enough to stop his impending doom and reverse his fate, but enough to get it off his chest even with nobody around to hear his confession.
And as he laid there, slowly lowering himself so he was laid down, he felt happy. He ran his hands over the gift Orange had gotten him, inhaling the faint scent that still lingered on it and squeezing it to him. He felt a wave of relief wash over him, before the final wave of hacking came about, blood spraying onto the ground as it felt like brambles and thorns prickled his throat from the inside.
Pools of the blood started forming, collecting into a pile alongside the lines of blood spurted out, petals tumbling out alongside full flowers forcing the self out of throat, the pain immense but he knew it was only temporary. He doubled over, kneeling and clutching his stomach, his head pulsating as his vision slowly blurred and eyes glazed over.
He knew this was the end, and despite such a painful way to go, he felt oddly comforted in the fact the last person he saw was the one he loved the most, even if he couldn't have him. It was perfect. All he'd ever wanted. Things slowly muffled, becoming distant, muted, he was letting go and he was okay with it. He felt himself slowly close his eyes and his head hit the floor.
'Orange blossoms are widely recognised as symbols of love, purity and new beginnings."
It was almost fitting that the description turned out to be the exact opposite thin destined to happen to him. It was safe to say that the orange blossom found left on Orange's bed wasn't a coincidence in the slightest.
Maybe if they didn't work out for him, they could be a symbol of eternal love for someone else. They were always meant to be. Not him, but her.
If he could help Orange one last time he could almost convince himself it was all worth it.
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DAY 0
Orange watched as he coughed over the sink, slowly backing up as red droplets came out alongside white oval petals with green gradient centres and long red anthers, a letter resting under the sink basin.
Pear blossoms.