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The sound of lung-deep coughs rings through the empty gym. Dazed eyes stare at the bloodied fist. A single petal dances in the air like a feather before finally settling on the ground.
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Pain. A deep-seated tightness in the back of his throat. Shortness of breath. A cough.
What’s happening?
Another cough. A look at his hand. Blood.
Is that-?
Daiki can’t finish the thought before another cascade of coughs rocks through his body. Another look at his hand confirms his suspicion though. A petal.
It’s a small, delicate thing, barely noticeable at all. Baby-blue in colour and smaller than even the tip of his thumb’s nail. It looks weak. Fragile.
Daiki stares at the blossom in disbelief. He picks it up with his other hand and turns it between his fingers to get a better look. He knows what this means. Satsuki had gushed about this phenomenon a few weeks back after she’d watched movie after movie about it. “Isn’t it romantic?”, she’d ask with hearts in her eyes, “A disease that can only be cured by reciprocated love”, she’d say, “Only affecting those so deeply in love that they can’t continue to live without their partner! It’s so tragic! Do you think it’s real?”
“The Hanahaki-disease?”
A scoff. How lame.
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A pair of eyes track his movements. The owner stays hidden while his fist tightens around the full blossom that has escaped his lips. He’s running out of time.
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The doctor had no helpful information to offer. Confess his feelings and hope for reciprocation? An operation that will reset the spread but is not a cure? Yeah, not helpful at all.
Especially since the operation would make him forget. He refuses to forget him .
Nope. Not happening.
So Daiki thought up a solution himself. He can’t have the disease of unrequited love if he’s not in love, right? It’s quite easy, really, Daiki just has to stop loving him. Easy peasy.
He will stop loving him if he just stays away, right? Just… limit the contact and the feelings will go away by themselves, he reasons.
So, he skips training after training, and he stops finding him for lunch. Daiki isolates himself as much as he can, and he ignores the tight feeling in his chest, the yearning that screams at him to get over himself.
The petals don’t stop but they don’t increase either.
.
.
.
Well, Daiki tries.
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… he really is alone, huh?
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“There you are, Daiki-kun, I was looking for you.”
A high-pitched voice rings over the rooftop, waking Daiki from his doze. He yawns loudly before opening one sleepy eye to the sight of the bubblegum-pink hair of his childhood friend. “What do you want, Satsuki?”
The girl pouts at his detached tone. “Geeze, Akashi-kun sent me to fetch you. You can’t keep missing training, you know?”
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A fist hangs in the air, ignored. A boy with baby blue hair and just as bright eyes solemnly stares at his hand. He slowly opens his fist and forms it again once, twice, silently observing how his muscles flex under his skin. The joy of winning the game slowly leaves his eyes as his gaze falls on his partner's retreating back.
Tetsuya makes a decision while his team celebrates the third national title in a row.
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Tetsu disappears after their third-year competition and Daiki does not see him until graduation. His coughs worsen but they soon plateau in multiple petals and a rare leaf or two. Daiki’s doctor thinks it’s a good sign - there has not been a full blossom yet. Compared to the other case of Hanahaki he’s supervising, that’s slow processing. Daiki’ll probably even manage to get a year or two after High School before it starts to impact his sports career negatively.
He manages.
Daiki moves to another district for High School and does not see Tetsu again until they meet on the pitch on opposite sides. He tries not to focus on the baby-blue eyes that stare at him without any emotion. He is not in love no matter what the petals that match Tetsu’s eyes say. He’s not.
They win. Of course, they do. Tetsu disappears right after the game without talking to Daiki, not even sparing him a second glance. Daiki’s chest constricts painfully but he does not let his emotions show.
When Daiki leaves the gym, his eyes catch the sight of Seirin’s black-white-red jerseys. With a lazy smirk plastered on his face, Daiki calls out to his former partner.
“Should have come to Touou with me, huh, Tetsu?”
Blank eyes stare back at him and an uneasiness makes itself present in Daiki’s body. Tetsu hesitates in his answer and Daiki knows that something is wrong - the short boy is blunt and to the point; he does not usually hesitate.
“I apologize”, he says, “but do we know each other?”
The words register and Daiki does not know how to respond. He’s staring, he realizes, his eyes are widened in surprise and his mouth has fallen slightly open as he scrambles for words. He’s not the only one though since most of Tetsu’s teammates stare at the blue-haired boy just as unbelievingly as he does.
“K-kuroko-kun”, the girl manager haltingly says, “that’s Aomine Daiki from the Generation of Miracles, your former teammate. Don’t you remember?”
Tetsu looks at her uncomprehendingly. “I think I’d recognize my teammates”, he states bluntly. Factually. As if it was impossible to even think that Daiki’d ever been a part of his life.
The uneasiness worsens to dread, and Daiki is distantly aware that Tetsu’s teammates are still talking. He doesn’t care for their meaningless inquiries, because he’s slowly starting to puzzle the pieces together.
A cough fights itself through his throat, followed closely by a second and a third. He’s falling into a fit of coughs, unable to hold them back, and his lungs are burning. His throat is on fire. His eyes are tearing up and petal after petal, leaf after leaf is falling from his lips in cascades.
Around him, the Seirin team is panicking, asking what’s going on but he can’t answer, too busy losing his breath.
Finally, his coughing stops. When he gets himself under control again, he waves away the caring hands of the other students and looks at the mess he made on the ground. Staring back at him is the very first blossom that came out whole from his lungs. It has the same baby-blue miniature petals that he’d been coughing up for over a year now. The same baby-blue colour that matches the hair and eyes of one Kuroko Tetsuya. Daiki counts one-two-five petals surrounding a white-yellowish center. It takes him a moment to recognize the flower but when he does, he can’t help the humourless laugh that escapes him while a single tear runs down his cheek. How accurate they are indeed to describe his love, he thinks hysterically, what a joke.
Almost mockingly, there lies a single Forget me not.