When Sandrone discovered the first burgundy petal on her tongue, she dismissed the thought of illness into the depths of her consciousness. Such a thing could not happen to her, right? She wasn't even fully human, for heaven's sake! All this human nonsense was foreign to her!
But the first petal was followed by a second, a third, a tenthโฆ Damned dahlias sprouted in her lungs, a suffocating scent permeated her bedroom, the color of Columbina's hair now surrounded her completely.
Right โ the color of Columbina's hair. When Sandrone realized why the flowers were precisely that shade, she locked herself in her rooms for several days, vainly trying to fight the foolish feelings.
Breathing grew more difficult, her lungs burned, and Columbina left notes under her door day after day, each accompanied by an unwavering cup of tea.
Sandrone honestly tried to hate her for these reminders of her existence. But the girl wasn't at fault, and the feelings were in no hurry to change. Archons, hating her would have been so much easier! Hatred, at least, never killed anyone.
Of course, hanahaki disease usually didn't kill anyone either. The cure was simple โ just confess, and all symptoms would vanish. But Sandrone would rather choke on the flower that decided to fully emerge through her throat than utter a word about her feelings.
On the seventh day of her seclusion, retrieving the long-cold tea โ Sandrone had no intention of stepping out into the hallway when there might be anyone else around โ the girl noticed the white camellia attached to the note.
Perhaps, at another time, she would have been pleased to receive her favorite flowers, but now it all felt like a cruel jest of fate. Now, she, too, could at any moment give Columbina dahlias (were they even her favorite flowers?), only in her case, these flowers would be vomited up, coughed straight from her lungs. Not cut from a garden.
Her fingers trembled slightly, wanting to crumple, to damage the fragile petals, but not daring. Stupid, stupid feelings! Never before had Sandrone felt so pathetic, unable to do anything about a gift simply because it was from her.
It was in this state โ frozen in the hallway, trembling slightly โ that Columbina found her.
The words of affection slipped from the dark-haired girl's lips with ease, like air, leaving Sandrone petrified. Could it really be so... simple for someone?
The first feeling was all-consuming envy. A desire to possess the same freedom in expressing her own feelings. And only after a few dozen seconds of silence did it truly sink in.
Columbina was saying this to her.
Columbina was saying this to her.
Awkwardly squeezing back into her room, Sandrone returned almost immediately, holding out a slightly crumpled dahlia to the girl. Flushed cheeks and eyes fixed on the floor said everything for her.
It became easier to breathe for only a second, because the next moment, Columbina squeezed her friend (?) in an embrace so tight that all the air was once again forced from her lungs. But, somehow, this time she didn't mind.
