GARDENIA

TWO

i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
i love you directly without problems or pride:
i love you like this because i don't know any other way to love,
except in this form in which i am not nor are you,
so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

Sonnet XVII, Pablo Neruda

spring: the beginning before the end

They were close to the coffee shop where Jack works, meandering through streets with grey buildings and barren, brown trees with barely any green. Jack slows to a stop behind Elsa, fumbling with his camera as he kneels. The weather was growing warmer in the winter turning spring weeks – but not warm enough to shed the wool jackets and fluffy sweaters – for Jack at least.

Elsa looks more than comfortable in a simple mauve dress with her white-blonde hair carefully arranged over her shoulder. The soft, spring colours standing out against the monochrome grey of the streets.

"Elsa," Jack calls. "Stop, turn around. Just stay there – yeah – tilt your head up a bit more."

She complies, pausing in the middle of the empty sidewalk and turning lazily as she lets her head drop back, the thick braid of hair slipping over her shoulder. Jack pauses, finger hovering over the shutter release.

She wraps her arm around herself, relaxing as she lets out a breath, fog wafting from her lips in curling wisps. Jack slams his finger down onto the button, hearing his heart pound almost as quickly as the continuous snaps of the shutter. Jack stops, lowering the camera to take a look at the pictures.

"How did it turn out?" she asks, and Jack nearly jumps, breath catching in his throat.

He was too enthralled by the pictures to notice her coming. Elsa stands close to him, shoulder pressing into Jack's as she looks over his arm at the camera. Jack catches a whiff of her perfume – a scent that she's worn since the day he met her: vanilla with heady undertones that remind him of rainy days. He wants to take a deeper breath.

Jack bits his lips, handing her the camera as he leans closer, watching Elsa scroll through the images.

"Wow," she whispers. "These are really good."

Jack hums.

The photos turned out great. Beautiful, even. Elsa is beautiful. The warmth of the colours of her dress and skin contrast amidst the blurry grey background. Jack would be proud to submit these photos for his photography assignment.

"Do you need to take anymore?" she asks, looking up from the camera, foggy breath fanning over Jack's face. Jack shakes his head.

"No," he replies. "I'm good, thanks for modelling for me, Elsa. My shift starts soon anyway."

She nods, pressing her lips together as she tucks her hair behind her ear and takes a step backwards as if turning to leave.

"Stay and study at the café," Jack says, quickly. "It's a short shift; then we can go to my place. I promised to help you study for that exam."

She grins.

Jack loves that grin.

"Treat me to coffee?"

"Always."

Always.

like a flower to its perfume, i am bound to
my vague memory of you. i live with pain
that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
make me an irreparable harm.

Love, Pablo Neruda

winter

The room was eerily white.

It was strangely cold inside the doctor's office despite how warm it had been outside for the spring months. Jack hadn't brought a jacket, wearing just a simple pair of blue jeans and his favourite blue hoodie. He had a grey-blue medical face mask over his mouth too, but not in concern of catching the germs around him at the doctor's office, but rather to keep the scent of gardenias from wafting over to his insistent companion.

Kristoff looked even more on edge than Jack did. His right leg was rapidly bouncing where he sat, and his arms crossed tightly over his chest. They both were tired. Bur Kristoff looked like he was going to nod off at any moment. He had to submit his Master thesis on Norwegian mountain flora for review the night before, and he was exhausted from the multiple nights staying up.

Bunnymund was going to come – insisted that he was going to accompany Jack. But Jack did not want the older man to be breathing down his neck with worry. So, Jack asked if Kristoff would come instead, for he had a much calmer – much more understanding countenance.

He had come to the clinic dressed in sweats, a beanie, and dark circles lining his eyes.

The nurse had taken Jack's vitals beforehand, leading him down the hall by himself to the x-ray room where the doctor had already ordered for an x-ray to be taken.

"Jack," Kristoff started quietly. "Have you told her?"

Jack shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without his voice cracking and scratching. He had another episode earlier, this time, his voice rubbed raw by the offending white petals that were dotted red.

"Why not?"

"What good will it do?" Jack replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She might return your feelings."

"If she already did, then my lungs wouldn't be filled with this shit," Jack retorted. "Would you tell Anna, if you were me? Would you want Anna to have the weight of this knowledge and guilt on her shoulders?"

Kristoff's eyes shifted to his feet, and he crossed them then uncrossed them.

"What would Anna do if she actually didn't love you?" Jack continued. "She'd try so hard to return your feelings. Out of pity. Out of guilt and remorse."

"I've accepted it, Kristoff," Jack said, resting his head against the wall. "Elsa won't return my feelings, and I have made my peace with that."

Then there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creak and cracking of the turning door handle. A middle-aged woman appeared with hair drawn back into a neat French braid, glossy black heels, and a white lab coat with neatly pressed lines. She smiled when Jack and Kristoff got to their feet. But her smile never reached her eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Frost?" she asked, reaching out to shake Jack's hand.

Jack nodded.

"I'm Dr. Quinn."

Jack shook her hand; it was colder than hers, which was unusual considering he fingers were always icicles. He introduced Kristoff quietly, muttering a lie that the older man was his cousin.

Dr. Quinn nodded, asking the pair to have a seat as she pulled out a cardboard paper file and flipped through the documents inside. She took the x-ray pictures out of a manila envelope, slotting them into a viewer and turning it on with a click.

On the screen was the black and white image of his chest cavity. He could make out the stark white outline, the solid line in the center was his spine, the curving mass in the middle was his heart, and two empty masses surrounded by his ribcage were his lungs. And inside the empty space were the tell-tale bends and curls of the blossoms he knew grew white. It was oddly beautiful, and Jack wondered if he would be able to take the x-ray image home, or at least take a picture of it.

The doctor pointed at the image, circling the flowers with one perfectly manicured finger. "As you can see, flowers are growing in the base of your lungs, Mr. Frost. I am sorry to tell you, but indeed, you have a case of Hanahaki Disease."

Silence.

Jack nodded as if the information was new to him.

"What is it, really?" Kristoff asked. "All I know about Hanahaki Disease is what's been romanticized by poets and singers."

"It's a strange illness, indeed," Dr. Quinn began, "it begins with an infatuation for an individual that does not reciprocate your feelings. To our understanding, it triggers a chemical reaction that produces a seed of flowers in your lungs. It will remain benign until the moment that you realized that your feelings are unrequited, then the seed will become malignant, and the infection of flowers will grow and continue to grow until we either permanently remove the seed, or the flowers will clog your trachea and oesophagus. It could continue to a point where your body is unable to expel all the flowers, and you could suffocate."

"So, I'm dying of heartbreak," Jack said blankly.

"Yes, Mr. Frost."

"How common is Hanahaki?" Kristoff asked.

"Not particularly common, but it isn't exactly rare."

"Why not?" Jack asked. "Doesn't everyone experience unrequited love at some point in their lives?"

"Yes, but –"

"What about teens and their teenage romances and school crushes?"

"But they all pass. It's just that – a crush. Hanahaki does not form overnight, Mr. Frost. It takes months to develop a seed in the lungs and then years afterwards to grow into flowers."

Silence.

"Whoever this is, your affection for them is great, and your case will pose a great risk to your life if you continue to leave it unchecked."

"So, what should I do?" Jack asked.

"I will prescribe three months of medicine. You are at a treatable stage of the disease. The drug is essentially a herbicide. Take a dose every day. The medicine should be able to calm to your symptoms enough for you to manage. Then, once the flowers have been taken care of, it should be a simple arthroscopic surgery to remove the seed."

"There is no way to stop the flowers from growing without taking away my feelings?"

"No. The flowers are an embodiment of your love. The more it grows, the more your feelings grow. If you lose your feelings for the individual, then yes, you would end up coughing the seed out of your lungs. It is the preferable option, and the medicine will aide you. But it is rare, in all the cases that I have treated, it hasn't been done."

"Can't I convince myself that I don't love her, or – or that she loves me?"

"You can try, but that will be like trying to convince yourself that the sun doesn't rise in the east and set in the west."

She handed him a small piece of paper with a prescription scribbled in an almost illegible scrawl.

"Take the medicine, Jack, I'd like to see you for a follow up in a month."

Author's Note:

1) It's been a long time - Happy 2019 everyone!

2) I know it has been a long time since I've written anything for Ouvertüre in Snow and I'm not going to lie it's going to be along time till the next post. I'm in graduate school now and between balancing school, work, and other commitments, it's difficult to find time to write. I just want to take the time to say thank you for all your support throughout the journey. It's an honour and a privilege to have received as much love as I have. Thank you, everyone!

Until next time!

Cordially yours,

EireneHarmonia