A/N: For Batarou week day 6, AU prompt: Hanahaki.

Ruin My Life

It used to be that the flowers only kept Badd up at night. They were relatively small blooms back then, he supposes, that had only just started taking root in his chest. He would wake up in the middle of the night, choking on petals and only able to sleep once they'd been dispelled.

He knew what was happening immediately – his mother had told him about hanahaki disease before she died. Specifically, the story of how she'd been fortunate enough not to catch it.

At first, Badd hadn't known who to blame. He had almost convinced himself that he had plenty of potential crushes at his school, and pretended for as long as he could that it was one of them, and not…him.

Fuck, he'd hoped it wasn't him.

Now, when he breathes, there's scarcely any room in his lungs, and he can no longer deny that the source of the problem is Garou. Because of course it is. Because Badd can never take the easy path in life. Because his heart has shit taste.

Ever since they had both joined up with their school's gang, Garou's been nothing but trouble. Causing internal rifts, seeking out fights with rival schools, and even rallying other members to question the bancho's authority…Garou's done it all and then some, and Badd is tired of cleaning up his messes.

And it's always Badd who cleans up his messes, because somehow, the two of them had gotten lumped together as first years and have been forced to tolerate each other ever since.

Safe to say that Badd was pretty comfortable hating the guy back then, up until a certain…unfortunate incident.

Badd had gotten out of school late, thanks to some asshole teacher, and Garou had offered to give him a ride to his sister's piano recital. Like a moron, Badd had trusted him – and of course that fucker had taken him everywhere but the recital venue.

He has no idea how many times they almost crashed, or how many times he threatened to jump off of the still-moving motorcycle and just walk. All he remembers is that they got into an unnatural amount of brawls with each other and strangers alike before Badd was able to commandeer the bike to get where he wanted to be.

Of course, by then, the recital was over. He and Garou had been a step away from throwing hands (again) in the parking lot when Zenko had shown up and Badd got caught up in apologizing to her instead.

All in all, it had been a shitty day. Badd is determined to forget it, but for some reason it started him on the uncomfortable path of…noticing Garou. More than usual.

To his horror, from then on, he starts to think that maybe Garou isn't so awful. The more he notices, the more he sees an actual heart buried under all that snark and spite and sour. A kitten fished out of the river, a kid saved from bullies – all when Garou thinks no one is looking.

It doesn't help that Garou is unfairly attractive. Before Badd knows it, the petals won't stop coming.

He's a third year now, appointed bancho of their gang, and thoroughly plagued by the fact that he's fallen in love with the worst possible candidate who very definitely does not love him back, and very definitely never will.

Badd has a few choice words for his piece of shit heart.

Because here he is, on his knees in the boys' bathroom, hacking up an entire lungful of white flowers into the toilet. They sting his throat and taste like shit, and their stems dig in and draw blood until those petals aren't quite as white as they started.

Badd keeps hoping this will just stop on its own someday, although he knows there's no chance of that. The disease doesn't work that way. No other solution is feasible. He doesn't have time for this. Fuck love. Fuck Garou.

There's a banging on the stall door, and Badd jumps out of his skin.

"Y'alright in there, bancho?"

Speak of the devil. Badd holds back a groan in favor of reigning in his breath, refusing to respond. All these years and Garou still has no respect for authority – that said authority is Badd probably doesn't help.

Badd struggles to his feet, and then lifts one of them up to flush the toilet and get rid of the evidence. If Garou finds out, Badd will never hear the end of it, and if Garou finds out that it's him specifically….

Fortunately an entire bouquet proves safe for the flimsy school toilet, and he wipes the blood off of his lips with his jacket sleeve. Badd pushes open the stall door, disappointed when it doesn't smack Garou in the face. He catches it with his hand instead, the bastard, and has the audacity to grin down at Badd.

"Feeling alright?" Garou asks, not a hint of genuine concern in his voice.

Badd snorts, tasting flowers. "What're you doin' in here, anyway?"

"The usual." Garou steps back into a graceful lean against the bathroom wall. There's a cigarette between his fingers already, and he reaches into his pocket for a light.

Rolling his eyes, Badd lets the stall door slam shut behind him as he wanders towards the sinks. "Whatever. Just don't get caught."

As he washes his hands, he can feel eyes on him, and oh yeah, that's the worst part of everything.

See…once in a while, the tension between him and Garou takes a turn for the sexual. Right now, for instance, he can see Garou's eyes in the mirror, and they're zeroed in on Badd's ass as Garou takes an unnecessarily long pull on his cigarette.

Upon that first make-out session, Badd had been hopeful. Lust often turns into something more, after all, and maybe, just maybe he'd been longing for it. For Garou, for a cure, for a heart to beat along with his own.

Of course, though, his stupid romance novel brain was slam dunked into the trash that evening, along with a fresh batch of flowers.

The physical affection makes things worse, it turns out. A messy hand job last week caused the flowers' growth to skyrocket, and now Badd has to be careful of how fast he walks, lest he run out of breath. Running the gang and running his household have both taken a hit from this.

Badd just wants it to stop.

He dries his hands, tosses the paper towels, and turns to stare back at Garou, his common sense screaming at him all the while.

Garou takes another long drag of his cigarette, eyes lingering on Badd's mouth. So Badd walks toward him, crossing the small space until they have only centimeters of air between them.

Repeated make-outs are not going to make him fall in love with you!

"Your breath smells sweet," Garou remarks.

Badd snatches the cigarette from between his lips, sucks in a deep breath through it, and then throws it on the ground to stomp it out.

All of this is a waste of time.

Golden eyes narrow at him as Badd releases the smoke straight into Garou's slightly open mouth. Garou breathes it in and blows it out his nose, leaning ever closer.

You need to focus on your future. On Zenko's future!

Badd shoves Garou into the wall, and thin arms wrap around him and squeeze like a vice. Their mouths crush together simultaneously.

These feelings will kill you, it's better to be rid of them than to tease yourself like this.

Hands grope at Badd's ass, hauling him impossibly closer. Badd bites at the tongue that tries to tangle with his own before chasing it back into Garou's mouth.

Get a better plan.

Garou's got a knee rubbing between his thighs, and Badd yanks at his hair.

Give up!

Blood wells up in Badd's throat, along with the tickle of encroaching petals, and he wrenches his head back to cough into his fist.

He can't take much more of this.

x

A week later finds Badd back in the bathroom, clutching at the sides of the sink, blood dripping from his mouth.

Fuck he can't catch his breath, lungs overtaken with these stupid white flowers. Two of them, stems and leaves and all, are lying in the sink, limp and bloodstained from their journey up Badd's throat. He coughs again, spitting out residual petals.

"Shit." He can feel more of them, loose in his chest and threatening to force their way up. Pressing his mouth into his shoulder, he wills them down.

It doesn't work, of course, and two whole seconds later finds him gagging on flowers again. Once they're past the petals, he pulls them the rest of the way out, trying not to vomit – but he wants this to be over with, already. The fact that this is very likely killing him is one that he'll ignore until he's actually dead on the ground; he has more to worry about than a pile of white-stained-red flowers in the sink.

Still, he can't catch his breath. He's sucking it in shallow and quick, trying in vain to deepen it around the foliage. Standing has become a chore, so he sinks to his knees, pressing his forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink.

"You don't look so hot."

Garou, of course, shows up exactly when Badd doesn't want him to. Again.

"Fuck off," Badd groans, because Garou can't see. If Garou sees, then he'll figure it out, which won't help anything and will only get Badd teased.

But here Garou is, strolling over to the sink, peering down at both its contents and Badd.

Badd doesn't have the energy to stand up and stop him – can't even muster the breath to shout. He's stuck controlling his breathing, accepting his fate. The thought makes his stomach turn with nerves as his root bound chest tightens so much it's threatening to choke him.

"Hanahaki?" Garou guesses upon seeing the mess in the sink.

No shit, Badd wants to say. All he can manage is a nod, though, before he's doubling over, spasms wracking through him on another coughing fit. It's just one flower this time, by the feel of it, but it still hurts. He clutches at his chest, hands fisting in his shirt as he expels more blossoms and petals onto the bathroom floor.

Afterwards he stays curled up with his forehead pressed to the ground. Something that feels an awful lot like Garou's fingers flick at his hair.

"You dying?"

Badd can't answer, too busy hissing in breaths through clenched teeth, hands still pressed to his torso as if they can do something to alleviate the constant soreness. There's a growing puddle of blood beneath his mouth, spreading around the petals until there's barely any white visible.

"Shit." There's the sound of shuffling feet, Garou apparently crouched in front of him. "You are, aren't you? Hanahaki - that kills, right?"

Ignoring Garou is still his only option, so that's what Badd does. He's a little grateful for that, actually. It saves him from making awkward conversation that will inevitably lead to a fight. He focuses on deep breaths until they aren't a chore anymore.

Eventually, leaves and petals stop getting caught in his throat, and he pushes himself up until he's sitting on his knees again.

When he meets Garou's eyes, though, his chest tightens painfully, as if the roots are digging in at the sight of their source. Badd fights off a wince. He can't do this now.

Garou's eyebrows rise at the sight of him – Badd can't even imagine how awful he must look. "What poor sap are you hung up on?"

Badd wants to snap at Garou that it's all his fault, but seeing as that would be a dead giveaway, he doesn't. He could still yell at him and inform him that he's tried to get over this, but that isn't how these things work. "Shut the fuck up," is all he says in the end, voice rough.

"Why not just get that surgery?"

Badd grunts and scowls. It should be enough to tell Garou exactly what he thinks of that idea.

"Of course," Garou scoffs, "you don't wanna lose your feelings. Should've known." There's an odd expression on his face now, though, as he stares at Badd. His eyes traverse Badd a couple times, blinking heavy with something, his mouth set in a crooked frown.

And then, for some reason, he reaches out and swipes his thumb beneath one corner of Badd's mouth. It comes away bloody, and Garou stares at it, brows furrowed.

"Ugh." Badd isn't about to puzzle Garou out right now – he has a feeling that it'd only make him worse faster. Instead he grabs hold of the sink and starts to haul himself to his feet. His head is light and his knees are shaking, but most of his discomfort stays settled in his chest. Soon enough he's leaning heavily against the sink, taking advantage of the rare chance to look down on Garou.

Garou, for his part, is still staring at his thumb – at least until he pops it into his mouth, sucking it clean. He springs to his feet, eyes alight.

"S'fuckin' gross," Badd says, wrinkling his nose. The feeling squirming in his heart isn't disgust, however, and is in actuality something far worse.

A grin stretches across Garou's lips, and suddenly he's way too close, breath brushing Badd's cheek. "Tastes sweet," he says.

"Just." Badd sighs, and it feels heavy in his chest. "Just shut up and help me back to class, asshole."

Stupid-pretty gold eyes blink at him. "…What?"

"You heard me." Badd would rather die than repeat himself. It's bad enough that he needs help in the first place, and he wonders if Garou will outright refuse or settle for picking on him the whole way back.

"I…." Garou's mouth closes on a frown. "You shouldn't go to class like this."

"Got no choice, do I? Exams are tomorrow, an' I can't study worth shit. Gang's meetin' up after class." Honestly, if Garou makes him waste any more breath explaining, Badd is going to pummel him and stumble back to class on his own. He has responsibilities.

Useless as ever, Garou only stands there and stares at him. "You're dying."

"No shit." As if to illustrate the point, Badd coughs into his elbow a couple times, but manages to reign it in. "I'm going."

And so he walks away, a little unsteady when he first pushes off of the sink, but by his fourth step he's got it disguised as something close to his typical swagger. Fuck dying – he's got a sister to provide for, a new bancho to appoint, and homework to do, so that shit's just gonna have to –

His progress is halted by a hand grabbing his, the fingers long and vicelike around his own.

"Wait."

The way Garou tugs him backwards doesn't give Badd much choice, all weak as he is lately.

And then he's pinned to the wall, and there's a mouth shoved against his own.

Breathing through his nose has been touch and go since the flowers moved in, but somehow Badd finds he isn't struggling for breath as Garou kisses him. Insistent lips pry Badd's open, and a tongue invades his mouth. He lets it happen, groaning deep in his chest and tilting his head to give better access, even.

Dammit all this is a godawful situation. Worse is that he doesn't want to leave anymore.

When Garou pulls back, his lips are pinker, probably bloodstained like so many flowers before them. His eyes are wide and he's panting, entire body pressed in close to Badd.

Badd coughs, feeling petals and foliage tickle the back of his throat. This can't be happening – there's no way this is –

That mouth seals over his again, and Garou lets go of his hand in favor of burying both hands in Badd's hair. Badd slips down the wall a bit, his legs spreading, and Garou takes the opportunity to press in between them, his hips tight against Badd's abdomen.

It's torture is what it is. Badd's faced this lust from Garou before, and all it does is make things more miserable the long run. This fucking idiot. This has nothing to do with love, and therefore will not help.

…Despite knowing that, Badd can't stop kissing him.

Garou's tongue rolls over his own before retracting so he can suck on Badd's. Thin, chapped lips overlap Badd's more plush mouth as the hands in his hair position his head at will for a perfect angle.

He doesn't taste like much of anything – the copper flavor of Badd's blood kinda overrides everything else – but Garou's lips, teeth, and tongue are all addicting nonetheless. There's something to this kiss that wasn't there the last time; something that plants an unwilling seed of hope in Badd.

Garou keeps at it until Badd is barely aware of the wall behind him and the floor beneath him. As far as he's concerned, he's held up solely by Garou's body, pressed all along his front.

"Badd." Garou is panting into his mouth, golden eyes darting down to stare at it in between making eye contact. His thumbs rub over Badd's cheeks in a soothing motion. "I…I'm sorry."

Just like that, the moment is sucked dry.

If Garou's got it figured out, a kiss like that is as shitty an apology as they come.

"…Don't worry about nothin'." Badd shoves at Garou's shoulders until he moves away and Badd is supporting himself on his own two feet again. He won't meet Garou's eyes – he can't, because then he'll see the tears, and that'd be mortifying.

He wants to give Garou a scathing or nonchalant goodbye, but he doesn't trust himself to form words. Never mind the potential flower vomit.

Instead, Badd brushes past him to leave, feeling Garou's eyes on his back the whole way.

x

The next morning, five minutes before the bell is due to ring, Garou's arms pen Badd in against the back of the school.

Badd lifts his chin, raising a knee along with it in preparation to kick Garou away from himself if needed. Last night he'd coughed up another handful of white flowers, and today he's not in the mood. "What d'you want?"

Garou doesn't respond. He moves his hands from the wall to cup Badd's jaw, tipping his head back. Long fingers run over Badd's neck, continuing down to feel his chest through his uniform (notably not paying extra attention to his pectorals) before sliding back up.

"What're ya –"

Badd's question is cut off by Garou's fingers tightening on his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. His head is tipped back farther, and Garou stares down his throat with a creepy amount of intent – at least until Badd stomps on his toes.

Releasing him, Garou hops back. "What was that for?" he grumbles, shaking his foot out (as if that was enough to actually harm him).

"Whattaya mean, 'what was what for'?" Anticipating a fight, Badd's hands clench into fists. "You're the one bein' weird!"

"I was just…." Pink flares up in Garou's cheeks as he hesitates. He's blushing; it starts as two pinpricks before spreading steadily over his face. "I was –" Garou's feet shift, and his eyes dart away to the side, and Badd has never seen him like this, in all the years he's known him. "I wanted to see if it was gone because I love you," he blurts.

Badd freezes, breath caught. "Wh…" he swallows, "…what."

Garou keeps right on staring at the ground. "You heard me," he grumbles, and it sounds almost petulant.

Warmth is spreading through Badd's chest, and it makes him realize the absence of a certain soreness. So yesterday's kiss was…. And this morning when he thought it'd been dumb luck that kept him from spitting flowers on his way to class, turns out that was also….

"You fuckin' idiot." Badd knows there are tears on his cheeks, and that's stupid, but he can't stop them.

All Garou has to offer is that sleazy, crooked grin of his as he thumbs over Badd's cheek. "You're welcome."

"Ya took your fuckin' time, so. Shut the -" Sniffling, Badd swats at Garou's hand. It retracts, leaving him free to scrub away his own damn tears, thank you very much. "Shut the fuck up."

"Only if you kiss me."

"I hate you," Badd chokes out, even as he hauls Garou closer and covers that obnoxious grin with his own mouth.

A/N: I've read precious few hanahaki disease fics, so excuse all the liberties taken...I had fun with this one, tbh!

Song this time was Ruin My Life by Zara Larsson.

Aaand this is where we part ways, FFN! Day 7 is also nsfw, so you can find it on my AO3 (same username there as here) if you want.

Thanks for reading!