Chapter Text
Andrew Minyard wasn't sure when the hollow ache in his chest turned into something real, something deeper. Not just a stuttering of his heart and pang of desire, but a suffocating pain in his ribcage, the constriction of his lungs and metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He didn't know when the roots of his own feelings took hold of his body but he remembered with excruciating clarity the first time he knew he would never be able to hide the longing that blossomed inside him. His secret, a painful truth bursting from his skin for the world to see.
Andrew had long since accepted that the boy made of lies would be his undoing. The one man that could topple his walls and burrow deep into his heart. Andrew despised that. He despised how much he wanted to let Neil in.
☆☆☆
Neil's hand gripped the phone tight enough to break it. The ringtone Andrew had set him still echoed in his mind.
Neil's fake brown eyes were open and honest, filled with unmasked fear. He was letting Andrew see through his lies and into the misery of his past. Andrew saw shadows of Neil's truth and felt a pull of desire to learn more. To unravel all of Neil's lies and learn who he really was underneath his mask.
Silently Andrew begged his traitorous heart to slow, for the tightness in his chest to loosen. He begged the desire that consumed his mind to fade away and leave him like everything else good in his life.
Andrew didn't deserve this; he had no right to feel this for a man who didn't swing.
"Go," he said, turning his face away from Neil, unable to look any longer.
Without question Neil stood and left Andrew alone, taking the warmth with him. Andrew squeezed his eyes shut and let the hollow rabbit's burrow in his chest grow, leaving Andrew feeling cold and empty. Leaving him longing for someone he couldn't have and would never deserve. His chest ached and Andrew revelled in it; desperate to feel, something, anything to prove he was alive.
Every flash of Neil's dark hair and bright eyes, every memory of his truths, his honesty and trust in Andrew constricted his chest tighter.
It was too much for his drugged mind. He doubled over as he gasped out sharp ragged laughs. The heavy longing only grew, expanding in his chest, growing in his lungs, around his ribcage and up his throat until he was choking on it.
Delicate purple petals fell from his mouth onto the bench of Foxes' locker room. The kaleidoscope spiral of his drugged mind went quiet.
Andrew turned a petal over in his hand; agapanthus; secret love.
Manic laughter broke free of his chest again, causing more white and purple petals to rise from his throat.
Hanahaki Disease. Andrew Minyard had Hanahaki Disease. He was growing flowers in his lungs for a pipedream. A hallucination.
☆☆☆
Neil Josten's stupid smile was going to kill him. Literally. Andrew cleared the ball down the other end of the court, blocking Neil's almost perfect shot on the goal. Neil turned his grin on Andrew, his eyes filled with admiration. That was all it took, for Andrew to dump his racquet and make for the nearest exit. He ignored Kevin calling after him and pushed through the stadium doors into the parking lot.
It had been barely a week since the agapanthus had first fallen from his mouth but Andrew was already ditching practices to cough petals onto the concrete.
Andrew wiped the spit and pollen from his lips and stared at flowers at his feet. Velvety rose petals in deep burgundy and delicate budding tulips streaked with pink and yellow. Unconscious beauty and beautiful eyes. He pulled the last of the petals from his mouth and crushed them between his fingers.
He was progressing too fast. Hanahaki shouldn't take hold this quickly. Andrew would be dead before the year was up if he couldn't control his feelings.
Andrew scooped the flowers off the ground and dumped them in the nearest trash can and drove himself back to Fox tower. The others could find their own way home. He wouldn't return to the court today. Not when Kevin would demand a reason for his absence, not when Neil would watch him like he knew something was wrong.
☆☆☆
Neil Josten had secrets and Riko Moriyama knew them. Andrew knew that, he'd expected Riko to go digging into Neil's past after Neil had humiliated him on live TV. What he hadn't expected was for Neil to leave his rabbit's burrow and challenge Riko with a smile on his face.
The moment 'you know, I get it,' left Neil's lips Andrew couldn't look away.
Neil had rested his chin on his hand, a mirror of Riko's own posture, and grinned. It was cruel and mocking, all teeth and piercing eyes. It was so different from any expression Andrew had seen on Neil's face. If looks could kill Riko would be bleeding out on the floor. Andrew though; Andrew was transfixed. He was seeing the real Neil Josten. A boy with ice in his eyes and fire on his tongue. Andrew was seeing for the second time who Neil was when he didn't run, and it hurt.
Every second he watched Neil tear into Riko, pink lips forming wicked insult after insult, the pain in Andrew's chest grew tighter.
A stunned silence fell over the banquet table. Matt scrambled off to find Wymack and Neil's eyes met Andrew's as he turned to watch Matt go.
Andrew's throat constricted in that brief moment. He couldn't breathe, his lungs were tight and he could feel the tickle of pollen climbing his airways. He needed to leave, to get away from Neil. Get away from everyone before he coughed flowers onto the table in front of him. Before the world saw that he was pathetic and weak-willed enough to let a stupid crush rot his lungs.
Andrew's vision blurred around the edges as he pushed his way through the crowds of Exy players and locked himself in the bathroom. He barely managed to grasp cool porcelain before he was gasping for air.
Andrew stood hunched over the sink choking up the garden in his lungs. Every one of his own pathetic thoughts staring him in the face. Clumps of tiny sunflower petals: adoration, vibrant wild pansies, already in full bloom: think of me, fanning cedar leaves: live for me,...and blood, so much blood stained the porcelain sink.
The garden had grown its thorns and forced their way through soft tissue. Cut into his throat until it dripped blood into his lungs. He was bleeding for a man who didn't swing. A stupid crush bleeding him dry, destroying him from the inside out.
Whose curse was this? Neil's? to be subjected to the unwelcome attraction of a monster. Or Andrew's? for his heart to tie him to someone who'd never love him back.
☆☆☆
Andrew's thoughts were consumed by forget-me-not blue eyes, nectar on his tongue, rosy lips on his skin, and delicate blooms stained red with blood. He couldn't escape it. Not when false brown eyes met his across the court. Not when in his dreams he threaded roses through soft curls. Not when petals of purple and yellow decorated the sink screaming think of me, think of me, think of me. Not when his body ached and glass smashed into his head.
His only thought was Neil. Was he okay? Was Aaron okay? Did he touch them? Did he hurt my family? Neil; who pulled a sheet over his lap and kept away prying hands.
Andrew bit down on the vibrant tang of protection and thankfulness when Neil helped him to the ambulance outside. Aaron had blood on his hands. The sirens were too loud, too bright. Had Andrew failed? Bursts of blue and red obscured his vision. Cornflower, not forget-me-not blue. Poppy, not rose red. Was Aaron in the ambulance with him? There were hands on him, touching his back, his head, pulling at his wrists. Where was his brother?
"Andrew. You need to breathe."
☆☆☆
Everyone knew. Everyone knew about Drake. All the Foxes could see that he wasn't untouchable. That he had been broken. Betsy knew. The hospital knew. That he grew flowers in his lungs. Knew that his stupid feelings were stronger than him.
They were taking him off his drugs. Too much trauma to process. They were progressing his Hanahaki too fast. It was a death sentence to keep him on them. He needed a clear mind.
Andrew didn't want to go. He couldn't. He'd made a promise. He would protect Kevin. But there was Neil, a rabbit, a runner, making him a promise. Neil would protect Kevin. There was no lie in his eyes, no deceit in his words.
“Oh, Neil,” Andrew said. “You and I both know you have a dreadful sense of humor, so this can’t be a joke. What do you think you’re saying? What are you trying to do?”
“Take responsibility,” Neil said in German.
“Usually such a good liar,” Andrew said, “but this time you aren’t fooling anyone. Am I to believe you’ll hold your ground if Riko comes at you? Maybe I’ll come back and you won’t be here anymore.”
Maybe Andrew would return and Neil along with the flowers that rotted his lungs would vanish. Neil wasn't real, so why would the garden that grew for him be?
“If I was going to leave I would have done so at the banquet when Riko called me by my name,” Neil said. “I won’t lie and say I didn’t think about it, but I decided to stay. I trusted you more than I was scared of him. So trust me now if you can. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll take care of Kevin until you return.”
Andrew's throat seized. The floral taste of chrysanthemums coated his tongue, too sweet to be yellow, too delicate to be red; white: truth, trust. He swallowed the bloom and ignored the pain in his chest.
“Trust you.” Andrew enunciated each word like he’d never heard them before. He laughed and curled his fingers tight around Neil’s chin. “You lie, and lie, and lie, and you think I’ll trust you with his life?”
“Then don’t trust ‘Neil’,” Neil said. “Trust me.”
“Oh, but who are you? Do you have a name?”
“If you need one, call me Abram.”
“Abram? Should I believe that?”
“I’m named after my father,” Neil said. "Abram is my middle name; it’s the name my mother used when she was trying to protect me from his work. Ask Kevin if you don’t believe me. He would know.”
“Maybe I will.”
Andrew didn’t let go. He could feel Neil's pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. Neil dragged one of Andrew’s hands under the hem of his shirt and pressed Andrew’s palm to his abdomen. Andrew almost choked on the chrysanthemum blooms. Neil was trusting Andrew with his scars.
“Do you understand?” Neil asked. “Nothing Riko does will make me leave him. We will both be here when you get back.”
Andrew couldn't breathe. His lungs felt tight in his chest. He didn't deserve this kind of trust, this kind of honesty. He had to leave before he was coughing up proof of his aching heart and handing to Neil a bouquet of bloodstained confessions that said for you and look what you've done to me and I love you.
Andrew pulled free and folded his arms over his chest. He drummed the fingers of one hand on his bicep as he thought. Finally he choked a laugh and turned away. “It’ll have to do, won’t it?”
Kevin looked like he’d swallowed a rock, but Andrew wasn’t waiting for his answer. “Bee, we're leaving.”
Andrew barely made it out to Bee's car before he was hunched on the ground coughing up, white chrysanthemums, roses, forget-me-nots, and deep red carnations for a boy who in a few weeks would be nothing more than a false memory.
☆☆☆
Easthaven was torture. Withdrawals did nothing to kill the blossoms in his lungs. They were real even if Neil wasn't. It did nothing but clear his mind of the flowery haze and give way to the nightmares trapped in his memories.
Proust was in his room again. He always was at night. Heavy hands pressed to his chest, his thighs, his hips. Whispers of 'its for your own good,' and 'its the only way to heal' in his ears
There was nothing Andrew could do to fight back. His withdrawals made him weak and the restraints made him useless. The hand over his mouth kept him choking on the flowers that refused to die.
"Who are they for, Andrew?" Proust said, digging petals from Andrew's throat. "Are they for him?"
Andrew couldn't fight the memory. “Oh Andy, for me? I knew you loved me”
"Are they for Drake?"
☆☆☆
Neil Josten was real. Not a pipedream, not a hallucination. A beautiful auburn haired, blue eyed boy who'd gone to hell and back for Andrew. And Andrew couldn't help but want him.
☆☆☆
Andrew was walking out of practice before it had even begun.
"Minyard," Wymack yelled. "Get your ass back in the goal."
Andrew couldn't. He couldn't play. Not even if he wanted to. Being clean had done nothing to slow the Hanahaki Disease. He hadn't taken a full breath in days. Every movement had his body screaming in pain. Every ounce of his energy and control was spent keeping the flowers from spilling from his lips.
The Foxes didn't notice, or didn't care. Maybe that was for the best.
☆☆☆
"You're going to freeze if you keep sitting up here by yourself," Neil said, dumping a Palmetto hoodie in Andrew's lap and swinging his legs over the edge of the roof.
Andrew huffed but shrugged on the hoodie anyway. "What do you want, Josten?"
"Kevin's looking for you. He wants to know why you weren't at practice."
He'd been throwing up bloody gardenias.
"Tell him to fuck off."
"I already did. Now he's sulking."
Andrew shook two cigarettes from his packet and offered one up to Neil. Neil plucked it from Andrew's finger, careful not to touch him, and stuck it between his lips. He leaned in close to let Andrew light it then lent back on his elbows.
He looked so relaxed and carefree. Head tilted up to the sky, the cold flushing his cheeks a soft pink, the setting sun shining through his auburn curls. Neil looked every bit the dream Andrew believed he was. He couldn't drag his eyes way.
Neil angled his face to Andrew and smiled. A soft real smile that had Andrew longing for Neil to give him anything, even if it was a lie.
"I'm not a hallucination, Andrew." Neil said, like he could read every thought in Andrew's mind. "I exist."
Andrew forced himself to look away. "Leave."
And Neil did. He walked away without a question. He left Andrew alone, like he had asked him to and Andrew... Andrew ached.
☆☆☆
Andrew Minyard was dying. It had been only a few months since the first confession of love fell from his mouth. A few weeks since blood first stained his lips as he bled for Neil Josten. The garden in his chest had wrapped its way around his lungs, his heart and his soul. Bloodstained petals coated his throat. He couldn't breathe. The flowers in his lungs barely pushed up his throat anymore. Andrew felt them in his chest, overtaking, breaking, and claiming his body. With every stuttered breath he felt the thorned vines wind tighter around him, slowly second by second fracturing his bones and bleeding him dry. He wouldn't survive the night, Andrew was sure of it.
☆☆☆
Andrew spat blood onto the ground, gasping for air that wouldn't reach his lungs. All he could see was red. Roses forced their way up his throat, winding stems covered in thorns that tore through his airways. I love you. I love you and it's killing me.