Hide & Seek

For the spooky season, my offering is some art and a little oneshot, it's also for the #HalloweenFics2019 events.

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I got inspired by this cover of Hide and Seek and one of my favorite tropes, Hanahaki disease.

(Art proof will be at the end of the oneshot)

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He knew to stay inside, even if he did want to spend likely his last Halloween with friends, running around at the only acceptable time to ask strangers for candy.

The blooms he was now regurgitating into the bloody palm of his hand had other plans to bathe in the splitting pain deep inside his chest. The pale green sweater now had dark red stains like deadly constellations scattered around the top.

Once the convulsions stopped and the pain dulled to a low ache, shaking legs made their way to the windowsill looking over the busy street below. He longed to be out there, but he couldn't bare walking, and his heart would give out if any more time was spent near him.

He would notice the blood. He would notice the flowers. He would realize the lingering gazes and figure out that he was the one that would cause Dan's death, because he would rather die painfully in love, then survive with no remembrance of these feelings.

The orange and purple lights flickered as blue petals caused another coughing fit. It was getting harder to breathe, he hugged the sweater closer to his chest. It never lost the scent of cereal and sunshine.

There was a knock on the bedroom door. "Honey? Are you doing good?" He would miss his mother.

"I'm fine." Voice hoarse, words shakey, she could tell her son wasn't okay, but she was unaware of the deadly blue flowers growing around his heart and inside his lungs all because of a boy.

He figured he should write a note, but moving didn't seem to be an option with exhaustion tugging at all his senses. More hacking and petals caused the pain to spike. Why did the flowers have to be blue? It was some sick game this disease was playing, making those colors akin to those eyes. It was cruel.

His head was now pressed against the cold glass and he let the petals and blood drip from his mouth with no attempt made to wipe it away with his sleeve. It was difficult to lift his eyelids and he was guessing his time was coming to an end.

The knocks and rings at the front door were previously being ignored up until he saw four figures dressed in familiar attire, missing one piece. He wanted to greet them, to hear that he was going to be okay and that one person would be able to rid him of this illness. But he wouldn't have flowers suffocating him to death if that was the case. But he guessed he was grateful for the slowness of the disease.

It was last year, Phil had grabbed his hand while out on Halloween as a friendly act, but for Dan, the first seed of love had been planted and he was sick the next day. He assumed he had over indulged in candy, that was until a week later, he had coughed up a petal and at that moment he knew Phil Lester was going to be the death of him in a heartbreakingly literal sense.

The knock resonated within the dying boy's skull, the door was opened and he smiled meekly at the voices, then one set of footsteps padding up the stairs until something was lurking behind the last door. He thought he was ready, there was nothing left to fear if he was going to die a few moments after a confrontation.

The door twisted open, and he would have been a bit agitated there was no knock if not for the fact his heart was stopping. Blue eyes filled with shock once another round of petal wanted to escape. "Dan..." the voice meek and disconsolate. He didn't want to speak, felt he couldn't- he didn't know what to say.

The silence between them was deafening, tense and distraught. He didn't know when his eyelids got to heavy to hold, but when he forced them open, the only difference was that Phil was infront of him perched on the same windowsill, frantically shaking the skinny frame. "You can't die yet," it was a mere squeak, the sound completly destroyed and washed over with grief.

Words didn't want to form, he simply lay limp, attempting to draw his lips up into a smile. This would be a nice way to die, if only Phil was smiling too. All strength was mustered up into the simple action of raising a finger to point at the corner of his mouth. As his hand fell, Phil caught it, lacing their fingers together. The flowers didn't stop.

"Who-" another hand struck a mouth as Phil attempted to cover his whimper of absolute defeat. He knew it was him, he knew he was the one that was to commit a murder by doing nothing, and that was the bitter irony. "I can't... no, Dan, you're not in love with me... please tell me this is some twisted Halloween costume prank."

The stems around the younger's heart quivered, more petals were coughed up on the green sweater, blood spattering across the surface, more wheezing and he couldn't hold himself up on the windowsill. His body dropped to the floor and he lie still, body quivering as he wished for death to come quickly.

But Phil was there. Arms wound around his torso and soon he was pulled into Phil's lap, who had situated himself cross-legged on the carpet, sobbing. He felt he had enough strength left to wrap his arms around Phil and they were still save for Phil's fingers entangling themselves in the other's curls.

Yes, Dan thought, this is how I want to die.

"I love you." Then the flowers stopped.

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I'll leave you to decide who said that line, and why the flowers stopped.

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And here is some art proof!

I love the fluffy eyelashes

Thanks for reading!

#featurethis