Darren opened his eyes to the same old ceiling. White. Dull. Overall. Boring.

There’s tightness in his chest, his throat scratchy. He briefly tries to remember what happened last night when the headache hits him, like someone swinging a baseball bat aimed at your head.

"I am so going to puke," Darren groaned, staggering toward the bathroom. His brain is on the verge of explosion. However, the thoughts of puking were lost as he reached the small bathroom. Drips of blood along with white flower petals were scattered on the sink.

What the hell happened? 

A few years ago, Darren found out the hard way that he tended to become aggressive when he was drunk, so he stopped drinking, that is, until last night, apparently. All he knew was that he and his two friends went for a drink to relax after finals. The chilled electronic music of the bar, Sherla, Nick's voices, and the clinging of glasses still circulate over his head. His memory stopped working after a few shots. 

Darren kneeled down and inspected the flower petals. He recognized them as roses and daisies. Darren loved daisies. They felt honest and straightforward. Maybe he plucked a few from his balcony last night. What a shame, though, that he spent weeks caring for those beauties. 

The roses were the mystery. How would white roses get there? 

The memory hit him like a freight train. 

While Darren was getting ready for the bar, his throat started burning, he gagged and spat into the sink—a streak of red, then something soft. A daisy petal, just like the ones on his balcony. Weird. He shrugged and flushed the petal down.

The next cough tore through him. This time, his palm came away wet with blood and a white rose petal, pristine except for the crimson edges.

Maybe it’s Hanahaki Disease.

Darren scoffed at the thought. It must be Sherla messing with his brain. He seen the particular disease a few days ago in her sketches. He initially thought of the scenario of coughing up flower petals to tell the morale of not eating flower seeds. He could still remember, in verbatim, the speech Sherla addressed after Darren asked.

"This is called Hanahaki Disease, a disease of coughing flowers. This is only triggered when the patient feels strong, unrequited love. You could potentially die of it. It’s so beautiful and tragic.”

How fortunate that it's only fiction.

Unfortunately, Darren was wrong. Darren sighed and pulled out his phone, Nick’s message blinked on the screen. No sign of Sherla, so he figured she was still hungover.

Nicholas

Daaarrrrrrrrr, I had to carry u home and miss all the fun D:

Why didnt u say ur lightweight. Sher thought u were drugged ewoaifghaweigaviahfwepiuf

U kept coughing and saying ‘white roses’. Also, who’s Zack??

U better not have a secret sugar daddy. At least I have a right to know! 

Seriously tho just text back when youre awake. we're worried for u

Darren shuddered at the name. Their friendship was toxic to Darren, the feeling of facing a cliff and deciding whether it's safe to jump off, of losing and regaining and losing again. Not that the other was at fault; it had been Darren who chickened out every time. 

He cursed himself before a sudden jolt vibrated through his whole body. A hand squeezing on his heart. He takes a breath. His lungs feel clogged up. Soft mush he couldn't identify threatened to crawl out his throat. He coughs violently. Tears rolled down. His vision blurred. Red filled his palms yet again as he realized there was blood. 

And suddenly, relief. 

A white rose tainted red from blood and spit fell onto the ground with a quiet thud, and its petals danced gracefully to the floor, unaware of the pain around them. 

Darren sat on the floor of his apartment, his tears not stopping even as he waited for his lungs to recover. After a few minutes, the clogged-up feeling in his lungs hadn't lessened, but at least he could breathe. He moved to clean up the mess, moving with care and scared of triggering episodes of whatever that was.

Darren stared in defeat at the petals, now in the trash. Hanahaki Disease it is.

Hesitantly, Darren opened his contacts to Zack, who was pinned at the top. He scrolled up the red exclamations marks of his own messages to their last conversation. It was nothing out of ordinary. Zack asking him where he is when they were planning to meet up at the school-hosted carnival.  

He sent a message; another red exclamation mark pops up as he groaned in frustration. He messaged Sherla, at least there was someone who knows some answers.

Darren :P

Tell me more about Hanahaki Disease

Is there any way that someone only coughs like 2 kinds of flowers?

Shers

Hi to u too

I mean idk, if that happens it’s probably that the flowers have meaning

Like I’ve seen a comic where

the boy coughs up only blue orchids because those were the flowers his crush gave him

Darren :P

Thx girl

Shers

Anything for my bestie ;)

Me and nick are coming to visit in a few. 

Darren thought back to Zack.

That was why the white roses were here.

His memory surged back to high school, to the rooftop, to the sunset.

"I don't get why the Red Queen would want to paint her roses red. Red roses are overrated," the teenager commented as he and Darren sat on top of the school building, their shoulders touching and their legs dangling over the roof ledges. The afternoon sun shined comfortably on the pair. 

"Seriously? Red roses are like the most romantic thing EVER," Darren rebutted and cringed as he didn't expect to come out this harshly. 

"Nah. I don't like red. Fire is red.” Zack shuddered. Darren already knew Zack’s grandmother was lost in a fire, which left him with terrible parents. As the two fell into silence, Darren noticed Zack's face was filled with tiredness.

"So, what do you like?" Darren broke the silence as he offered a small smile.

"White roses," Zack answered without hesitation, his eyes twinkling as he talked, "They're so pure. How do you even describe it? I swear, they have some sort of magic that captures people. They're so gonna be the type of flowers I get for my wedding or any other wedding. I'm probably not going to get married…"

The school bell rang. Darren wasn't even sure what the bell was meant for. Zack sighed as he stood up. Darren could see the bagged eyes even behind Zack's glasses.

"It's going to get dark soon. Let's go."

Darren shivered at the memory. It was one of the few times Zack opened up to him. It was one of the few times Darren didn't use the other’s vulnerability to hurt or bite back. If Darren could relive high school, if Zack could be here with him, Darren would say sorry a thousand times and say a thousand more if that’s what Zack needed to forgive him.

The doorbell rang, wailing and screeching like a newborn. Darren threw his phone facedown onto the couch, like a kid caught with stolen candy.

Sherla and Nick had a copy of his keys, and they didn't notify themselves for different reasons. Every time she visits, Sherla wants to catch Darren hanging out with his "boyfriend", to which Darren tells her countless times that he doesn't have one. Nick feels that Darren's apartment is his second home, a backup plan if the first one doesn't work for reasons unknown. So no, neither of them had the habit of knocking, which meant whoever was outside was totally unimportant.

He marched up, preparing to scream until the other got a matching headache. Darren flung open the door. His voice soon faltered as he met with tangled raven hair and gray eyes. The hue was too familiar to be brushed off lightly, but nevertheless, it was unrecognizable. Never mind all that plan to scream; it could be forgiven for the right reasons.

"Hi, sorry to bother you. Is Ms. Tracy here? I'm the new tenant," the boy’s eyes widened as he saw Darren. The boy clutched onto his luggage, his knuckles turning white. Darren didn’t notice though. With every word the boy spoke, Darren's lungs lightened at the sight of the cute stranger.

"Tracy’s flight got screwed—typical Florida. She should be home in a few hours, but this is 301. That should be the room you're looking for." Darren gestured across the hall.

"Oh, I see. Is there any chance of staying at your place for a few hours?" the boy talked while Darren fought the sudden urge to cup the boy's face and squish him. The image would be too cute, but the boy in question wouldn't be too happy.

"Alright, come on in," Darren smiled as friendly as he could, conveniently leaving out that Tracy's flight was canceled and that it would take more than a few hours for her to return.

As the pair went into the living room, Darren felt impossibly thankful that he had become organized this once, cleaning the blood and flower petals off his living room floor. His lungs felt fine, though—not clogged up, just normal ever since he seen the boy. Everything this morning blended into merely a bad dream. However, Darren knew that the blood spots and white petals would still be there if he walked into the bathroom.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked as he sat on the couch. "You were dazed off, and I called you three times already."

"Just tired. I blacked out drinking the night before." The words sounded less cool when Darren said them out loud.

What if he thinks I'm an alcoholic?

The boy didn't seem to mind one bit or pay attention. He hummed while examining the room. Darren sat on the opposite end of the couch and stared at the boy. Freckles scattered like constellations over the boy's cheeks. He stroked his hair every few seconds, making it somehow more tangled. Sometimes, he would squint his eyes, reminding Darren of a pufferfish. Other times, he bit his nails.

Without thinking, Darren went nearer to the boy. He held the other's hand, stopping the other from biting.

The boy blinked in confusion. His eyes shot up in alarm and slightly panicked as the two noticed how close their faces were, just inches from touching. Darren could feel the boy's hand trembling underneath his hold. Darren jerked away, knowing he’s blushing like a tomato. The boy was also tinted with a soft pink to his satisfaction.

"So..." Darren mind went blank on what to say. 

"Wait, why are there rose petals in your trash can?" the boy peered closer only to be yanked back by Darren. 

Hopefully he didn't see the blood. 

"They all wilted, I can't sign them up for more suffering," Darren lied, successfully keeping his voice from quavering.

"I can help with that," the boy mumbled awkwardly, "I grew white roses in high school. That is until my parents dug them up." The boy's eyes darkened as his shoulders tensed. 

Darren opened his mouth to reply when a sudden bang came from the front door.

Sherla ran in to pounce at Darren,"Dark Ren! I missed you so much!" 

Darren scoffed at the new nickname. Nick entered a few seconds later and beelined to the couch.

The boy's expression turned to puzzlement as he glanced between the trio. Darren noticed the boy frowned while staring at Sherla. He took the guiltily comforting knowledge that the boy wasn't Sherla's type.

"Wait! Is this your boyfriend? Finally!" Sherla finally released Darren from the headlock to gaze in wonder at the boy. The boy's frown smoothened slightly.

"Boyfriend?" he turned to Darren. Even though the boy sounded serious, Darren could feel the teasing hidden under the monotone cadence as Darren's cheeks heated up again.

Darren forced himself to act normal as he explained, “He’s just the new neighbor. You know how Tracy's flight was delayed."

"Damn Florida and the weather," Nick deadpanned.

Darren continued unaffected, "I guess she was supposed to hand the keys over to the tenant and all that stuff today. But she can't. So, he's staying at my apartment for the time being."

Sherla jumped up, "In that case, I'm Sherla. That's Nick. If you're looking for a permanent free room, you can always share with our dear Dardar."

"I'm Zack Anderson, and I'd consider the free room if I hadn't signed the contract with Tracy." Zack chuckled, gray eyes flicking to Darren’s. 

The room fell into errie silence. 

Nick was the one to shout, "Wait... Zack Zack? As in THE Zack?"