The bell above the doorframe chimed, marking the three o'clock rush of one customer. Kurta Flowers and Creations was far from a popular location and patrons were a selected few. It was a small corner store that only residents who lived here their entire lives could remember existed, tucked away in the shadows of the town. It was overstocked with every flower available. There were flowers one wouldn't believe existed. Anything a florist could get their hands on, The Kurta had it. It was rare to hear they didn't carry what you were looking for. It was damn near impossible to stump them when it came to types of flowers. They were fairly popular for their Amaryllis, yet they rarely sold these days. The current owner claimed that he didn't stock them due to lack of interest.

There was a bulk floral shop set up down the street that sold flowers at a third of the cost and everyone knew that it was at least ¼ of Kurta quality. 'A flower is a flower', they'd always say. Long-lasting quality and beauty wasn't really necessary when you just needed them for the brief wow factor to get into your date's pants. Kurta was for the relationships that knew no bounds while Phantom Favors was for a quick steal of your partner's time.

The customer that came at three o'clock in the afternoon, like clockwork, was always dressed to impress. He donned a blue pinstriped suit carrying an oddball suitcase. His glasses dared to tilt on the edge of his face yet never made it far enough to fall. Names of flowers rolled like water off his tongue. He knew about every flower The Kurta had to offer. The transaction was always fairly quick which gave the well-dressed man less reason to stick around.

"And how fresh are your daisies?" His voice was rushed as usual. The hand that wasn't grasping his case was ghosting over different varieties of wildflowers in a frantic spree to find the perfect gift for whomever he ran off to on a daily. "I think she likes daisies."

Kurapika looked up from his book as if he didn't notice the tall man walk in until he spoke. He didn't need to know that the blond knew he'd be by like clockwork. The daisies were located in the favorites section near the back wall—not that anything was labeled.

"And what color are you looking for today," Kurapika hopped down from his stool and straightened out his apron. It was worn, tattered and clearly a hand me down. The tall man blinked at him in confusion which only caused a worn sigh to match, "in your daisy."

"There's more than just white?" His answer confirmed his search and Kurapika plucked half a dozen white daisies to bring to the counter. When the flowers were pulled from their basin, they dripped, so by habit, Kurapika gave them a gentle shake. He knew he probably shouldn't but there wasn't anyone to correct this bad habit so it continued on.

"So, white." He laid them gently in a piece of red cellophane and tied the end with gold ribbon. "They're doing just as great as they ever do." And with that, the flowers were handed off and money was exchanged. The suited man waved his thanks and rushed out like he had every day for the past two months. Who was the person he rushed off to after he passed the door frame? Kurapika sighed. He'd love to know. He'd smile at them in the smallest way to let them know they have everything. He'd smile in the biggest way to let them know he wished that wasn't true.

A tickle in the back of Kurapika's throat resurfaced, for the umpteenth time this month, which he elected to ignore. He wiped off the droplets from the counter and floor and went back to futzing with every flower in the store. He only read right after 2:30p until Leorio's daily walk into his life. He got his name from his credit card a few weeks back but he tried to not use it, even in his thoughts, until it was formally given. The book was interesting, sure, but he had a lot of work to do since he was the only one left to man The Kurta Flowers and Creations.

The Kurta rarely had regular customers but they did have people who came by. After school let out, kids from the school would drop wildflowers they found on their way home in a barrel left outside the storefront. It began after Kurapika's family disappeared and adults began leaving flowers at the door step with their condolences. The door stopped being able to open. Cans of food and messages of concern, in hopes to reach the troubled teen, got in the way. Kurapika gave in and rolled an empty barrel for them to fill. It has been 10 years since it began and it just kept going on with the new generation mimicking their elders.

He had to make sure that he was completely cleaned up in time for the two strangest boys he ever met to pass by. They were in their last years of high school and have been a constant in Kurapika's days since elementary school. He stood and judged whatever insignificant contest they had going on at the time. A popular contest was 'who made the better flower crown' using the excess of wildflowers the elementary kids brought by.

Kurapika didn't pretend he wasn't waiting for the boys. On the other side of the door was a tiny table and a long wooden bench. It spanned from the door to the corner of the tiny store front. He placed two waters on the table and watched the two boys come barreling down the road. At first it looked like a chase, with Killua in the lead and Gon a few steps behind. Killua ran with his hands in his pockets and a smug smile on his face. Kurapika knew from many years of experience that it was not a chase. This was confirmed when Gon hopped over Killua like a frog and took off in the lead. Why they were so competitive, Kurapika would never know.

It was Gon who won despite Killua being the faster of the two. They both skid to a stop. The water waiting for them was sloshed over their mouths. Half making their mark and the rest splashing down the fronts of their uniforms. Once the bottles were emptied, the two let out a happy sigh. The water acted as their one true saving had been coming here for the past five years and have shown no sign of stopping. When the weather allowed it, they braided wild flowers supplied by the elementary kids. When winter was grabbing at their coats, Kurapika let them use the wilting selection of flowers.

"Did the kids not stop by today?" Gon snapped Kurapika out of his flow of memories with a 17 year old sticking his head down the giant barrel. Coming up empty, he looked down the road confused. There were a few mumbled words out of the clerk's lips as he escaped back into the store. He had completely forgot that there was a field trip until late in the evening. All the kids would be picked up by their respectable parents and thus—no flowers. He robotically plucked a few flowers from basins that needed to be cleared out.

"Alstroemeria and carnations okay?" When he showed back up outside, the two boys were laughing but Killua had a slight redness to him. Whatever the joke was—he surely missed out on it. "Killua, are you feeling okay?" He knew the white haired boy was perfectly fine. He basically raised these boys and who would he be if he didn't mess with them occasionally? Gon looked back to his friend and hit him with a million and one questions to make sure that they were okay to compete today. Killua gave a sidelong death glare at Kurapika, 100% deserved.

"I'm fine, Gon, listen, I'm fine. I can make a stupid flower crown." Kurapika met him half way with a handful of alstroemeria and in the same motion, deposited the carnations on Gon's lap. It was some kind of a spectacle to watch teenage boys fumble with the long stems attempting to make the better crown. The bench was long but they sat in close proximity to each other with words of competition on their tongues.

Kurapika continued reading his book while sitting on the other end of the bench. The buzz of competition was the backdrop to his evening. It was definitely missed on the quiet weekends. Kurapika kept the doors closed on Sundays and there was no school on Saturdays. He held his time with Killua and Gon gently in his hands. A treasure he wouldn't give up for anything.

After a good hour of sabotage and crafting, the boys were done. Gon's purple carnation wreath fell apart the moment it was lifted. Laughter from Killua and Kurapika drowned out the groan Gon let out. Even though Gon's wreaths failed more often than not, his surprise was genuine each time. Kurapika wiped at his eyes in time to watch Killua's laughter halt when a single flower was woven behind his ear. Gon smiled, removed his hand, and gave out a bout of his own laughter. Unlike Killua, his didn't stop when Killua put the alstroemeria crown on top of his black spiky hair. If Gon noticed the change in color on Killua's face, he said nothing of it.

Killua was poking at the petals that were piled in the middle of the floor with his foot. He came in early Saturday morning and hung in the silence of the store. Kurapika was close to closing the store with sweeping being the only thing left needed to do. Since Kurapika was closing early on Saturdays, Killua had only been there for four hours tops. Kurapika didn't prod or ask why he wouldn't speak up. He figured he'd do it on his own. If he didn't? Well, Kurapika wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

Purple petals were peeking out of the mouth of Killua's shorts and Kurapika would be foolish to not recognize it as the purple carnation that Gon put in his hair the day before. He chose to not mention it. It was odd, sure, that Killua showed up without Gon. But it stood out more that he went out of his way to be there. The Zoldycks' residence was a long ways away on the outskirts of town and there was nothing on this side of town that Killua would otherwise be interested in. No, he came here on purpose.

"You won't tell him?" Killua's voice was more of a demand than a question. It didn't waver but Kurapika has spent more than his fair share around the alabaster brat to know that he was drowning in anxiety. His tone was slick as ice but his cheeks were hot and pink.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Killua." The petals were swept up and thrown away. Killua had hopped up onto the counter before Kurapika could stop him. No amount of discontented looks could get the teen to change his mind on where to sit. He eyed the clerk for a good minute before seemingly getting his answer. A moment of silence passed. 'Do you need me to take you to a doc-?"

"No." Killua stared at the ground with resolution. "No, I can handle this on my own."

No one knew when it began. It was a disease a couple of generations old. The explanation they give to kids in their sexual education class was something out of a fairy tale. A romanticized story to make the victims feel better for having it. Kurapika could remember it very clearly the day his teacher explained it to his classroom. It started as butterflies in your stomach. A light and airy feeling that was dangerously addictive. You'd seek out the person who made you feel that way.

More than half of the victims of who feel the first step rarely make it onto the second. Their butterflies either rise up and escape as kisses or dissipate with the lack of interest. Those who feel so strongly end up having a garden grow in the pit of their stomach. Depending on the person, hanahaki could rip them to shreds in a matter of days or torture them over a span of a few years. The school goes with the average number of 4 or 5 months.

"How long have you-" Killua's words were interrupted so that he didn't have to struggle to find the words he felt most comfortable saying. There was silent gratitude hanging in the air.

"Saying I grew up with you two wouldn't be far from the truth." Kurapika wanted to smile at Killua to relax him a bit but he knew it wasn't the best time to try and help the younger cope with this deadly illness. "A couple years now." Silence. A question sat heavily in the room staring them both down with the intense gravity of severity.

The disease doesn't thrive on facts as it does your mindset. Jealousy, fear, agony, heart break, pining, and any other negative feeling relating to the one you feel so strongly for is its fodder. The teachers say that the best way to heal yourself of hanahaki is to tell your target of affection while it is in its early stages. That way you can either be freed of hanahaki or lose interest in the one that's tearing you apart. They make it sound so easy.

Kurapika spoke up in hopes to get that dread away from him. "How far-"

"7 month mark." There were no signs of dry heaving, at least in Kurapika's presence. There was no way to protect Killua. That weight bore the heaviest on Kurapika's shoulders. He practically raised the boy and there was no way he could help. "Lucky me! It's going to go slow."

What they don't tell you is what the second stage feels like. The feeling of those butterflies dying and sinking in your stomach to grow into flowers. The weight of it all is overbearing. It hurts. The fear of dry heaving in the third stage or the amount of bloodshed in the fourth. Some people have bigger flowers than others. Kurapika winced upon remembering the slide they showed of someone with a sunflower in their hand. There was no blood in the image but the person looked so ill and pale. You knew that there was a lot of effort to dislodge a flower that big from their throat.

The flowers begin to swallow you. Your breathing is hindered and it takes you in the most beautiful way possible. Their ending slide for the presentation was a quote. It was unsettling and romantic in one fell swoop. "May flowers grow in the saddest parts of you-Zainab Aamir". They tell you that the disease rarely takes any victims because the universe sends you what you are ready for in that exact moment of time.

Bullshit.

The universe was sick. It sometimes gave you someone that you could swear was built just for you. You breathe their name and it's just so right. Then they don't love you in return. They have wives. They have families. You are young and don't understand. You could be suicidal and thank the world for giving you something that could take you away. The universe was dark. The universe didn't care if you were ready or not.

There was one way to save a patient. Removing one's flower. It was a disgusting process that was done in a frantic attempt to save a person's life. It takes up to eight hours in intense surgery. They have to remove part of your stomach and detach vines from your esophagus. In rare cases, it wheedles its way into your lungs and sometimes a lung can't be saved.

You could come out it, sure. Some say, after the surgery, they stop really caring about anything at all. Others say they never trust anyone enough to love them to begin with. No matter what the truth was, the result sounded the same. You never loved again.

Kurapika would rather suffocate.

And, in a sick turn of events, so would Killua.

"I think he's here to walk you home." Killua looked up and sure enough, Gon was peeking through the glass on the door. Kurapika locked them about twenty minutes ago and the lights were off. Looking past the rows of flowers was hard when there was light. In the darkness it was near impossible. Killua gave a soft chuckle and a mumbled 'idiot' as he approached the door.

"You're actually pretty wise in your own weird way." Kurapika took it as a compliment. It was as close as he was going to get. Killua unlocked the door and stepped out. Through the glass, Kurapika could see Gon hand Killua the skateboard he apparently left at home. The words were muffled but he could hear the chipper voice of the oblivious center of Killua's affection.

"You weren't at home or at the skate park so I thought you might be here! Let's go to the lake. I brought your swimsuit." It sounded like Gon had spent a good time looking for Killua. Just like Killua, Gon lived on the outskirts of the town. His house was a good three miles away from both locations. The skate park was in the middle of town.

Kurapika knew that Killua had nothing to agonize over.

When the dry heaving began it was one of the dry days. Killua brushed it off as the air getting to him since everyone was mowing lawns and spores were everywhere. Stage four was never far away from three and it terrified Kurapika.

Since Killua brought up his illness to Kurapika, Kurapika seemed to forget about everything around him. He worked robotically and began to forget the three o'clock visitor he looked forward to every day. It was only when he saw Leorio on his way out that he regretted not paying more attention.

Kurapika coughed a few times before going back to his computer to scan through medications that would soothe the side effects. There were rubs to put on your chest that opened your airways. Medicines that relaxed the muscles that helped the petals along without much bloodshed. Before he knew it, he had wandered to the local pharmacy to peruse the aisles for the products.

It was a Friday afternoon in May, three weeks after Killua's self-diagnosis. Gon had gone home as per Kurapika's instructions. It had to be subtle. He made it sound like a favor. Gon would be back to walk Killua home, he was sure of it. Killua was leaning against the counter with his back to the door, twirling a perfect flower between his fingers. It wasn't drenched in blood as the petals before it so he was able to see the flower that was killing him for the first time.

"First full one this morning." Behind the specks of blood were white petals with lilac splotches splashed down the center. A few of the petals had an array of spots from yellow, brown, to deep plum. It was terrifyingly beautiful. Kurapika handed him a bag from the local pharmacy and Killua hid it in his book bag. It kept it secret from his family and from Gon. It was safest this way. There were no accidental sightings and no worried best friend.

The bell chimed when the door swung open. Kurapika had disappeared into the small backroom to fetch some literature he had purchased on coping with hanahaki. If they could get through a few pages before Gon returned, they would consider it a win. Killua tilted his head back to welcome the customer to the store. People would sometimes mistake Killua as a second hand. Most of the time though, he just greeted them and walked away.

Leorio approached the counter where Killua just full on stared at him. He broke eye contact to look around for the blond but when his first attempt failed he stubbornly glared at his watch. "I thought Kurapika was the only worker here. Did I miss him for the day?"

The clock blared the time: 4:37pm. It was close to closing. Killua twirled the flower between his two fingers and didn't respond for a moment. His eyes mapped the stranger in a way a predator would study their prey. Killua knew most of the customers' names by heart. If he didn't know their names-he's at least seen them. Leorio was a new face. Leorio knew Kurapika's name despite the lack of nametag.

"Is there anything you're looking for?" Killua ignored the initial question and enunciated the second half of 'anything' to make it clear he wasn't going to answer his question. Though Killua's eyes were probing for answers, the rest of his face was lit with a smile. If he was rude to a customer, Kurapika wouldn't let him hear the end of it.

"Oh. Uh...something for...a boy." Leorio scratched his chin and looked around at the selection. For the first time he seemed to be at a loss for names. Killua hesitated to break contact but ended up walking over and picking up the first blue flower. He grabbed a few and wrapped them unceremoniously before handing them off. "These are nice." His voice was stilted as he accepted the flowers. He looked over the flowers at Killua. "What are they?"

"Flowers."

"What's their name? Do they have any sort of meaning?" Leorio dragged on the conversation even though it was clear Killua was done.

"Hate to break it to you, old man." Leorio flinched. Irritation spread across his face but he said nothing. "Florists don't know flower language. They just sell flowers."

It was then that Kurapika rounded the corner. "Hydrangea." Leorio looked at Kurapika while Killua seemed to not even acknowledge his arrival. "They're Hydrangea, and yes, they are doing well." Kurapika held his hands out in front of the flowers in a silent request. It took a moment for Leorio to catch on but when the realization dawned on him, he laid the hydrangea in his hands.

Kurapika went back to the counter and pulled a new sheet of cellophane from under the counter and re-wrapped the stems. This time, he tied a blue bow to match the petals of the flowers. Killua was still behind the counter and stood in the way of the register so Kurapika just handed them right back to Leorio.

When Leorio reached back to accept the flowers, his hands accidentally grazed Kurapika's. This did not go unnoticed by Kurapika in any way. He kept a smile as fresh as his flowers on his face with words as smooth as hunny. "On the house. I hope he likes them."

With that, Kurapika retreated from where he came. Killua waved at Leorio who was just standing in the middle of the room. He faked a chipper tone. "Have a swell day, sir."

How long had Kurapika stayed back? Long enough to know that the flowers were for a boy. Kurapika grabbed onto the wall and started heaving. He had to stop seeing Leorio. During those weeks where he was blind to everything around him was easier.

So much easier.

Killua found Kurapika around the corner after Leorio had left. Kurapika was staring at something in his hand. With closer inspection, Killua saw something he wished he never had to see from his longtime friend.

"Kurapika...are those?" Kurapika closed his hand around what he was holding and wiped at his mouth. A tinge of blood smeared from the corner to his cheek. A flurry of hands wiping at his face until the blood was gone with mumbled affirmations that it wasn't anything important.

Killua looked back to the door where Leorio had walked out of less than a minute before. A stranger wasn't someone to die over. "He knew my name."

"You probably introduced yourself at some point."

"No...I don't remember ever doing so."

"Kurapika, do you have anyone you like?" Gon's voice was loud and prodding. Kurapika gave a sideways look at Killua who feigned innocence. It was clear that Killua decided to meddle in the situation and brought Gon into it. Gon, being considerate, didn't want to out either parties on the possibility that he may or may not have been tipped off to the problem.

"Do you?" Kurapika went back to the project in his lap. The two teens had wrestled their argument that today was the day that Kurapika joined in the competition. His defense was there would be no judge. They came to the consensus that there was never a judge because, 9 out of 10 times, Gon's wreaths failed. The abundance in dandelions that the elementary kids brought by were stunning. Did they just fill their backpacks full of them?

"I like Killua." Gon was frank and to the point. He beamed with that iconic smile that drowned out the sun. "He's my best friend." Kurapika blinked in surprise and looked over at Killua. Killua had a bottle of water to his lips when he started coughing. Gon laughed and thumped Killua's back. Gon didn't see the blood that Killua wiped away. He sloshed a bit of water in his mouth and swallowed before going back and took a giant swig of his water and held it in his mouth. Killua turned to Gon and sprayed him like a fountain.

"Don't say embarrassing things." Killua scolded with a shove to Gon's shoulder.

"Huh? Embarrassing?" Gon's chipper tone faded into confusion. He took a moment to wipe his face with the bottom of his shirt before staring back at Kurapika-obviously waiting for an answer.

"I like Killua and Gon." A simple answer. A safe answer. If Gon was willing to use his best friend as an example, he was going to use his only friends as his. The two teens seemed not to take to the simple diversion. Their backdrop of bickering clouded the area around Kurapika. It took him a minute to figure out the heartfelt laughter dancing between the arguments was coming from himself. His lungs began to ache in a way they hadn't in years. Around the flowers in his stomach was the sudden feeling of light. It wrapped tightly around the stems and tugged a few branches loose.

There was room to breathe.

Killua and Gon had long gone by the time Kurapika came back to himself. Dandelions strewn in every bit of his gold hair. Where the flowers stopped and his hair started was a gray answer. The light faded when the teens waved from a distance. The space the light brought about lingered. It was long past the time the shop should have been locked and forgotten for the night but Kurapika stood in the bright lights in the center of the store.

Kurapika grazed his fingers against the two wreaths on top his head and the multitude of loose ones. Again, Gon's wreath didn't make it past a few minutes and had found rest in the blond hair. A chime sang, startling Kurapika. When Kurapika saw who stepped through the door, the space that was cleared from his evening with the boys immediately filled with petals. His stomach became heavy while flowers. He fought back his reaction to start heaving.

Leorio was standing in the doorway with a look on his face that Kurapika couldn't discern. The man carried his suitcase as usual but in his other hand were bloody flowers. The stems were long and leaves were complete. The white and lilac petals could only be seen in tiny spots past the red.

"Who is it?" Leorio's voice was stern and concerned. The look he had when he walked through the door was different now. It went from some sort of amazement to terror. Kurapika tried to think for a moment to place why he'd be amazed before he glanced at the flowers. Blood was pooled out by the front of the store with petals on the ground and full stems lying in a pile.

Killua.

Kurapika's feet picked up and bolted through the door without vocally acknowledging the man in the doorway. How could he have missed the heaving? How could he not have seen the teen throwing up outside of his door? Under his watch, why wasn't he there to help him through it? The sounds of feet were closely behind him.

Leorio commanded Killua to open his mouth. Killua blankly refused with a turn of his shoulder and a glare. He jolted when Kurapika laid a hand on him. Normally he wouldn't be startled by something so simple. His reactions are always alert so the reaction Kurapika got was the biggest red flag he could have ever received.

Kurapika found him sitting on the ramp at the skatepark. Blood smeared around his lips, he looked paler than usual. His chest moved at a very slow pace. Killua was looking up at the sky. He went to the skatepark when he couldn't be at home. It was the first place anyone who was looking would go. Gon's backpack was next to Killua but Gon wasn't anywhere that Kurapika could see.

Killua pigheadedly opened his mouth and Kurapika could feel his blood run cold. Lining Killua's right side of his inside of his cheek were vines and small leaves. A leaf was stuck between a wisdom tooth and his cheek. A petal could be seen in the back of his throat. Leorio swung his suitcase open and medical supplies clanked from its depths.

"You're a doctor..." Less than a question and more of a statement being brought to light. Kurapika's voice was breathless. On the inside between small vials were polaroids of children holding vases of flowers. One girl with daisies, a boy with hydrangea, and many more of children with flowers Kurapika could remember selling the man. "The flowers were for your patients?"

"Who else would I be buying flowers for?" He said matter-of-factly. The tone made Kurapika flush in embarrassment for having the assumption that the flowers could be for anyone else in the world. "A doctor doesn't really get time to spend with anyone." Leorio filled a syringe with an upside down bottle of unmarked liquid. At closer inspection, all the vials were blank but full.

"This is going to pinch." Leorio's voice was gentle yet authoritative. Killua let Leorio pull out his cheek and slowly insert the needle into the back of his cheek. He wobbled the cheek after removing the needle then patted the outside. "Let me know when you're numb."

Leorio turned around to witness Kurapika looking at him with a look as soft as a sunrise. There was strain under his eyes from worry but his initial gaze brought nothing but warmth. In turn, Kurapika saw Leorio gape at whatever he was basking in. They held a silent conversation with shared glances about Killua's well-being. Questions with immediate answers disguised in silence.

Leorio shook off whatever he had going on with Kurapika and opened another vial. He shook out two pills and handed them to Killua with a bottle of water. There was mumble of instructions to take them before he was completely numb. Killua complied.

When Killua was finally completely drugged up, Leorio pulled a couple of tools from a back pocket: a scalpel, a small pair of scissors, and a decent size of tweezers. He began carefully removing the vines lining his cheek; starting with plucking the leaves from their stems. Kurapika watched Leorio in a way Leorio had felt before, but never from Kurapika Kurta. His gaze felt like blazing red of protective instinct. If Killua showed any sign of pain, Kurapika would put a stop to it. There was no way around it. Leorio would not be allowed near Killua again.

Killua knew this well. Despite the muscle relaxers and numbing agents in his mouth, he had to hide the searing pain. He bottled it up and saved it for himself. Killua focused on watching Kurapika grabbing at the material on his sleeves repeatedly as a distraction. He was sure Kurapika could sense him watching, but Kurapika was preoccupied with delegating the situation.

Killua felt a forceful tug while he wasn't paying attention and winced. Kurapika jolted and Leorio removed his hands from Killua's mouth.

"Are you okay?" Kurapika's hackles raised and ready to separate the two. Atmosphere thick as cement. There was no way anyone could cut through it unless Kurapika calmed down. Leorio could swear he saw Kurapika's eyes glow with rage.

"Exactly…what are you doing?" Killua's voice was garbled but he had a point to get across. Numbing agents was not going to stop him from asking what he needed to ask. "You aren't completely removing it are you?" His questions made Kurapika relax a little bit when Leorio gave a hesitant shake of his head. Killua fixated on the pile of leaves and petals already removed. It was a pretty decent pile. All of this was just inside of his mouth?

"Just stabilizing." Simple words. Safe words. Killua reopened his mouth to let him continue. He did, however, babble on for the rest of the time that he insisted to get it completely removed at a later time. As a doctor, he didn't condone letting the flowers go past the stomach. Catching it early on made it easier. Killua refused every time.

Once Leorio removed his hands from Killua's mouth completely and begin to wipe down his tools, Kurapika stood over Killua. "I'm telling Gon." His words firm. Stubborn, firm, and unmoving.

"You think I don't already know?" The group froze. No one wanted to look at the voice's origin. If they looked, having him there would be real. If they saw the trademark green outfit with spiked back hair, it made it real. No one wanted him to see him with the agonizing expression they all knew he had painted on his face. Slung around him shoulder was Killua's backpack. Bottles of medication slipping from the front pocket. They must have been accidentally switched, causing Gon to return at the worst time possible. "You think I haven't tried?"

Killua looked up first. "Gon." The whisper was just remnants of breath. There was no power in what he said. It sounded weak, helpless and painful. Leorio, out of respect for the other two, tried to cover the bloody pile with his being. Everyone already knew he knew but they pretended they could take it back.

"Like I haven't tried?" He repeated. "Killua is a very dear friend to me. I tell him every day."

"Gon…" Killua warned him from continuing. At this very moment, or even any moment from this point forward, any negative feelings could end him. The whole group caught on instantly and approached Gon with their hands up.

"Gon, now's not the t—"

"When will be the time? Killua is my friend and it is always the time to say that." Gon pushed past to get to Killua. In that moment, Killua's body relaxed; seemingly given into his imminent demise. As long as it's Gon. Killua thought. As long as it's him, it's okay. "How many times do I have to tell you that I love you, Killua?"

"This isn't about friendship, Gon." Kurapika tried explaining from behind them. Without looking over his shoulder, Gon gave off a threatening aura. The thick black cloud around Gon silenced Kurapika and Leorio instantly.

"I know that." He snapped. "And I'm not talking about that either." Gon kneeled down next to Killua and put a hand on his shoulder. Vines started slipping through Killua's lips and growing outwards. It took over half his face and bloomed in a frighteningly beautiful way. His breaths ran ragged yet Killua held back any emotion he was feeling.

"You're an idiot," Killua strained. "You can't—"

Gon grabbed Killua and pulled him close. He peppered kisses along the side of Killua's uncovered face then down to his lips. The flowers didn't stop growing. "Stop this Killua. No one can tell me otherwise. I love you, Killua."

"Sto—"Killua's words were silenced by another kiss on his lips.

"I love you, Killua." He only got louder.

"G—"Another.

"I love you, Killua." Gon practically shouted. The flowers blew in the wind but didn't grow further. Lilac peeked through his hair and made a mess below. Gon brushed a finger at the stray flowers. Petals fell at the touch. Killua's eyes never left Gon. He mapped Gon's face like it was the first time he had ever seen it and that he would never see it again. What was once a strong bond of an unstoppable disease to Killua's skin felt brittle under Gon's touch.

Killua's eyes were bright.

Gon's smile was brighter.

"When did you find the time to come and buy flowers?" Leorio's suitcase clacked closed. Gon had left with Killua moments before; Killua being dragged by the hand to an undisclosed location. Kurapika cleaned up the flowers while not making eye contact. "Isn't being a doctor busy work?"

"A man's gotta eat." He laughed. When Kurapika made a noise of disbelief Leorio clarified. "My office is down the road."

"Unbelievable." He never missed a day to swing by. The flowers weren't cheap. There couldn't be that many patients that each one could get their own vase of flowers. Each probably got at least five each at this point. It was slightly endearing.

Kurapika felt something ignite in his stomach; like a fuse burning its way to his lung. It splits and goes up his throat as well. It burned its way through him and landed on his cheeks.

It was Monday and the store opened like usual and closed late. No sign of the boys or Leorio. There were no customers that day either. Flowers were rearranged. The doctor could just be late. He didn't want to look like he couldn't be patient. Kurapika closed two hours late just in case one of the boys came by.

Tuesday came and went just like Monday. Leorio missed a second day. The boys haven't even passed on their way back from school. Children discarded their wild flowers as usual. An old lady came by and bought a bouquet of sunflowers. They reminded her of the flowers that another woman had coughed up for her. The woman had passed without saving. The old lady regretted every day that went by that she physically couldn't return the flower's victim's feelings.

Kurapika's heart went out to the woman. Both the one who has passed and the one who had to live with the guilt. She had to watch her friend wither away while throwing up flowers bigger than anyone could really handle. "Once they bloomed," she had reminisced, "she went quickly."

Kurapika could only be glad that Gon got through to Killua at last. He missed them over the weekend and couldn't wait to see them again on Monday. He didn't think much of it until they missed Wednesday as well. The doctor was still absent. He had plenty of customers for it being a Wednesday but they all molded together and he can't remember for the life of him what kind of flowers was bought that day. The fuse lit in Kurapika burned slowly. It wasn't easily ignored.

Thursday brought quiet. There was no outside wind. Not a soul came through the doors. Kurapika could have missed it but he could swear he never saw anyone even pass by the store. The street was a ghost town. Although he saw no one, he heard voices play around in his head. More than one voice calling his name. The universe was cruel. All that he had were his thoughts on that Thursday. Now that Killua was out of danger, Kurapika had plenty of time to think about his personal situation. The past quiet days seeded dread and his flowers grew.

He heaved and heaved and heaved. Behind the counter strewn a pile of blood that was far beyond the amount of an 'okay' amount to lose. There were enough flowers laying in midst to make its own bouquet. Kurapika saw them before but refused to acknowledge the flower by name. Now, there was no way around it. They were Amaryllis. They were the flower the Kurta were known for since the beginning of time. Even past the red of blood, the petals were their own shade of brilliant crimson.

He now understood why Killua didn't say anything. Yes, having flowers grow on the lining of your mouth was uncomfortable. Granted, the flowers were a sign of everything but beauty. Of course, he didn't want to show how much pain this beautiful flower brought to him. What the flower represented, hidden under the grotesque feelings, was love—and who would want to rid of that? It was so uncomfortable that it gave a sense of peace. He knew what was happening and he didn't need anyone to tell him he was going to die.

The amaryllis had always been a sign to the Kurta that they would not survive much longer. He heard stories before that there were deranged customers who would press and frame flowers that the Kurta couldn't keep down. Kurta Flowers and Creations never sold amaryllis. The stories were just sad stories. That was that. But, for a reason he couldn't explain, Kurapika crushed the flowers he spat up under his feet. Once they were completely destroyed, he threw them in the waste bin.

His breath ran ragged and there was blood on his shoes and tracking to the trash can. The customers would think so badly of him for this. Kurapika couldn't focus on being upset because of that past a minute. The blood could stay. He was tired. A nap would take care of this fleeting feeling. He wouldn't die now. He was just going to sleep. When he woke up, he'd clean up the blood.

I'm just going to lay down for a moment. Kurapika thought as he stretched his arms before crossing them under his face. When he woke up, Killua and Gon will be smiling and telling him about some crazy adventure they were on for a week. He would stop hearing their disembodied voices and see them again.

Kurapika's breathing slowed to a pattern to a relaxed sleep. And everything was okay.

It was okay.

Leorio would be there apologizing when he woke up. Kurapika would pretend to be angry…and that was okay.

He was just going to close his eyes.

A/N: Thank you for reading! I am a big fan of flower language so I peppered in some flowers that mean something. This is the research I brought up:

Alstroemeria: Friendship and Devotion

Amaryllis: Pride, Determination, Splendid Beauty, There is also a Greek legend about Amaryllis falling in love with Alteo, and the love was unrequited.

Carnation: (Purple) Capricious

Daisy: I share your sentiments, I will think of it, Innocence

Dandelion: do not give up, even if those around you keep trying to get rid of you. Stick it out and remember the cheerfulness of a sunny summer's day when things seem bleak or dark. Healing from emotional pain and physical injury alike

Hydrangea: Developing a deeper understanding between two people

Sunflower: Pride, Admiration, Gratitude