Some people may say that love is like a flower blooming in your heart, but in my case, there's a flower blooming in my lungs, and I can’t stop it.

Me and Oliver have known each other since elementary school. I started noticing Oliver's attractiveness when we hit eighth grade, his tousled dirty blonde hair that falls casually over his forehead, framing warm, expressive brown eyes. We often spent days and nights together at a place we called our spot, in all reality it was a clearing in the woods at the end of our street that no one knew about. One afternoon in the summer of 2020 I and Oliver were sitting at our spot, I was reading a book, and he playing with the grass blades. 

“Hey Olive do you think that high school will be like this, or do you think it will be different?” Looking away from my book and looking at my best friend. 

“Im not sure, I guess it’s going to be different, but we’re going to be at the bottom of the food chain again, we’re going to be freshmen”. Thinking back to when we were in elementary I get sad, we used to be so happy and carefree, but knowing that all going to change in August because we have to start acting like adults, everything counts next year, and there is no room for mess ups, at least that's what mom tells me.

I think back to that memory a lot, me and Oliver sitting in the clearing on that summer afternoon three years ago, I still remember what it was like to have the nice summer breeze lightly kiss my arms and legs, the feeling of the grass ticking the back on my thighs as I sit crossed legged with my back against the hard bumpy tree, my favorite tree, my tree as I used to call it. Oliver and I haven't gone into the clearing since the end of Sophomore year almost two years ago. I miss those carefree days, I and my best friend sitting in the clearing with our homework or a book just enjoying each other's company, Now we are too busy. Too busy for each other. Even though we dont see each other as much hes always to first thought in my mind and I want to be with him all the time.

A few weeks into our senior year I started to get really bad coughing spells, and over time I started coughing up pink camellia petals. Picking up one of the petals I notice how soft and delicate the petals are between my fingers. Standing in my room confused with a petal between my index and middle finger I think im imagining things so I go to the bathroom to splash my face with water. Walking back into my room from the bathroom I realize that the singular petal I coughed up was still there, 

“What is going on,” I ask myself quizzically. I lay down thinking this was all a bad dream, going to bed without eating or saying goodnight to my family.

 Upon waking up in the morning I noticed that the petal I remember putting on my nightstand was no longer there. Relieved that my coughing up the petal was just a dream I get ready for school.

Stepping out of the school I cough up way more petals compared to last night, this time the soft pink camellia petals from last night were now red. Distraught and confused with the petal's return I make a mental note that I will look it up once I get home.

Making my way upstairs after dinner I open my laptop and look up why im coughing up petals. 

Search: Why am I coughing up flower petals?

Looking through the answers one sticks out to me. It was a so-called fictional disease called Hanahaki. Reading into it I feel called out,

 Hanahaki is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

Looking at my year's worth of feelings for Oliver I start to think that is why I am coughing up these petals. Looking at the cure is when I realized that I've never told Olive how I felt, even though that was the reason I did not want anything to change after 8th grade, that was why I wanted everything to stay the same.

 It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies.

The next morning I woke up at my desk to my alarm realizing I had fallen asleep reading about the Hanahaki disease. Getting ready for school was tough for me, I was non-stop coughing up a mixture of light pink and deep red petals, and occasionally a whole flower head. Running down the stairs hurt, it felt like my chest was caving in, and I couldn't breathe like I could before. I automatically blamed the flowers for my inability to breathe and was hoping my lungs would last the rest of the day.

When lunch came around Oliver sat next to me instead of his Basketball friends which I found odd,

 “Wanna go to our spot today after school? I have free time” Thinking about the clearing and how long it has been since we went there together I agreed. 

“Great! Meet me at our normal meeting spot, then we can stop by mine and your house and drop our bags off”

 I gave him a soft “ok” and he walked off. As I watched him walk away I started coughing, pink and red petals cascading around my tray and the table. Running out of the cafeteria all I felt was pain, it was as if the flowers were starting to make their way into my heart. 

I was on my phone looking up the cure for Hanahaki, and it was the same as I read before, I hoped that it had changed or there was another one but no

 It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies.

I had no other choice, I had to tell him how I felt or else, I would die.

Realizing that there was only one way for me to overcome this and live I knew I had to do it. It was a 50/50 shot and my life is on the line. Thinking to myself I choose to do it after school when we go to our spot. 

I count down the minutes in the last period as we grow near the final bell of the day.

10…….

9……..

8……..

7……..

My teacher's words are getting slowed and slurred but I can't concentrate, im too busy watching the clock.

6……..

5……..

4……..

Almost there. I hold back a cough because I know petals will litter my desk.

3……..

2……..

One more minute. My leg starts to shake and my already restricted breath is stopping completely.

1……..

I rush out of the class to our meeting spot but stop in my tracks. I haven't even walked out the front door when I see him. I start coughing and I can't stop. My best friend, the love of my life, the reason im dying, is kissing my sister. 

I run out the back way of the school and run to the clearing. The clearing wasn't our spot anymore, it was their spot. 

Sitting in the clearing I try to stop the petals, I am well aware that I left a trail of pink and red from the school to the clearing. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the forest clearing, I found solace against the rough bark of an ancient oak. Each breath was a battle, petals fluttering from my lips with every exhale. The hanahaki disease, born from my unrequited love, had woven its tragic tale through my body, a garden of despair blooming within.

Around me, the clearing was serene, untouched by the turmoil in my lungs. Birds chirped their evening songs, oblivious to the human drama unfolding beneath them. my hazel eyes, once vibrant with hope, now mirrored the calm resignation of nature. I thought of Oliver, and a smile touched my lips. It was a smile of acceptance, knowing my feelings would remain my own, beautiful yet tragic.

As the light faded, so did the strength in my body. The flowers, once a vibrant symbol of my love, now choked the very life they had sprung from. In these final moments, there was no anger, no bitterness, only a gentle sadness. My fingers traced the petals scattered around me, a kaleidoscope of memories and dreams never to be realized.

The last rays of the sun vanished, leaving the clearing in twilight. I closed my eyes, my chest rising and falling with decreasing urgency. The world seemed to hold its breath with me, a silent vigil for a heart that loved too deeply.

And there, in the quiet embrace of the forest, under the watchful eye of the oak, I exhaled for the last time. A final whisper of petals danced on the breeze as if carrying my unspoken words to the stars. In my departure, I left a haunting echo of my most poignant lesson: “High school is always different”.