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Act One
“Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.”
- ”The Thing Is” by Ellen Bass
Coming out of his ten hour long daze among the hydrangeas to be met with the face of Shizuka Doumeki almost made Watanuki wish he had gone with the girl in his dream.
He remembered it, vaguely, as he sat in the rain and recollected himself next to the ever-silent Doumeki. Bits and pieces of a soft hand in his own, rain droplets trickling down his face, Himawari’s ribbon coming to his rescue in the dark land between the living and the dead he found himself in. Yuuko filled him in on the details when she returned to collect them from their adventure. How the girl was trying to kill him and needed to be put to rest. The strange, echoing voices being that of the hydrangeas.
It didn’t make much sense to him, but the walk to the temple was almost relaxing.
The three of them had to huddle under Yuuko’s umbrella, theirs having been blown away in the storm. They didn’t speak. The other two might have been used to not needing to fill the emptiness with mindless chatter all the time, but for Watanuki the situation was more than uncomfortable. “The hydrangeas,” He started, “They were Ame-warashi’s, right?”
“That’s correct,” Yuuko clicked her tongue in response. Doumeki continued to not speak.
“Why?”
“They help with the rain in one way or another. She isn’t very good at explaining herself.”
“And the girl?”
She readjusted her grip on the umbrella handle. “Her blood was staining the hydrangeas red.”
Watanuki huffed, rolling his eyes and turning away from Yuuko. “Well, that’s the obvious answer. But why is that a bad thing?”
“You can ask her yourself. She still has a payment to make, I’m sure she’ll visit us soon.”
He hated it, sometimes, how vague she could be. He was almost certain she’d never actually given a straight answer in her life, always finding a way to dance around it. Yet still, he’d learned to decode her words. To read between lines and sentences and paragraphs and figure out exactly what she meant. If only he wasn’t so tired, dripping wet and coated with dirt. Then maybe he’d drag more information out of her.
They approached the temple, Yuuko waving a hand for Doumeki and Watanuki to go clean off. It only took some brief arguing and Yuuko’s intervention for them to decide Doumeki would go first. Watanuki sighed, muttered something about how he did all the work, and collapsed onto the floor.
“You know he stayed there for all ten hours,” Yuuko said, entering the room with snacks, drinks, and Mokona. “Digging.”
“Digging?”
She nodded. “He was afraid you had been buried under there and wouldn’t be able to get out. So he dug, not to mention straining that broken arm from your last scrape. I had to come find him and tell him to hold the ribbon.”
“The ribbon?”
“That’s what brought you up, was it not? He was your connection to the outside world. You should thank him.”
“Thank him?”
“You sound like a broken record, Watanuki,” Yuuko glared over at the boy, who was laid on his back, looking at her upside down. “Yes, thank him. He saved your life. If it weren’t for him, that girl would have dragged you right down with her. Then his tireless digging would have really been in vain.”
He groaned. “But-”
“But nothing. You may hate him-” (There’s some sort of emphasis on the word hate that Watanuki couldn’t quite make out,) “-but he’s a more powerful asset to you than anyone else ever could be.”
“Even Himawari?”
“Especially Himawari.”
Before he could retort, the door to the showers slid open. Doumeki explained the situation with the girl briefly, and in order to avoid seeing Yuuko stare at him like she was going to snap him in half if he didn’t say thank you right now, Watanuki slipped inside.
The hot water of the shower rushed over him, relaxing his muscles and allowing the soil that had clung to his skin to easily run off into the drain. Watanuki rubbed soap on the back of his neck, down his arms, and scraped mud off his soft, uncalloused hands. He leaned into the warmth and calm it all provided.
Doumeki had waited for him. For ten hours, he dug, looking for him. What had Yuuko said? He was afraid? Doumeki, afraid? A complete oxymoron, probably one of her many attempts to get Watanuki to grow closer to him, and yet even the idea of it made something in him ache. He hated Doumeki, and the feeling was reciprocated. Everything he did made Watanuki want to strangle him. Every move he made on Himawari chipped away at his self control, little by little. He was certain that if Yuuko forced them to spend any more time together for one reason or another, one of them would end up dead.
And then his chest heaved. He coughed, spluttered, and one lone blue petal floated to the floor, wet with the water of the shower and whatever red liquid coated it.
“Must have gotten caught in my throat,” Watanuki muttered, and washed it down with the rest of the dirt and grime of the day.
Act Two
“Perhaps we never truly met
until I heard your voice of flowers
spill hydrangeas across the carpet
of my bedroom at 3 am.”
- “Hydrangeas” by Gracie
He didn’t tell her.
He didn’t feel a need to, a petal had simply gotten caught in his throat from yesterday’s job and he hacked it up under the pressure of the water. Yuuko didn’t prompt him to. Not directly or in her roundabout way, where she calmly asks if all is well and ascertains nothing “strange” has happened recently. Maybe she had learned that he always responded with something about how his entire life is strange, he’s working in a shop that grants wishes for crying out loud! and therefore chose to avoid it. Or nothing was wrong to begin with.
He’s sure that’s the case, when he’s on his way to school after spending the night at the shop and Doumeki is next to him. “Oi,” he greeted, barely.
“I have a name, you know,” Watanuki scoffed.
“Oi.”
Half way through one of his clever remarks, Himawari skipped up to them and something bloomed in Watanuki’s heart and choked him so hard he thought he’d stopped breathing for a second. “Himawari! It’s so great to see you!”
All that Doumeki could offer was another “Oi.”
Himawari giggled, hand covering her mouth so cutely Watanuki almost passed out. “It’s so great to see you guys! How have you been?”
Doumeki shrugged. Watanuki blanched.
“Oh, you know, good as ever!” He waved a hand at her, glancing away in a poor attempt to hide his reddening face. Himawari Kunogi, cutest girl in school, asked how he was and said it was great to see him. If he died right then, at least he would have died the happiest man in the world. “How are you?”
“I’m alright...My garden has been looking a little lack-luster recently. Must be all the rain…”
The two boys glanced at each other. “Well hopefully it should be clearing up soon! What kind of flowers do you have?”
“Nothing special...some roses, daisies, a few herbs here and there. Maybe if they get better I could bring you some?”
Watanuki’s heart caught in his throat. First asking how he was, which was partially directed at both him and Doumeki anyway, but now offering flowers!? It had to mean something! “Yes please! I’d love flowers from you, Himawari!”
“And you, Doumeki?”
“Sure. I could probably find a place to plant them back at the temple.”
“Then I can bring you some seeds, too! We should plant them together!”
“Why not.”
And with that, his heart shattered, again, all thanks to Doumeki, again. Something tickled at the back of his throat, but he paid it no mind. They approached the school at last. Himawari waved goodbye, running off to her classes, and as Watanuki began to follow suit he was grabbed by his arm. “What was that for?!”
“I have something to ask you.”
“Can it wait?” He spat. “We have lunch together. I even brought you leftovers, since that’s the only thing you’re worthy of-”
“Are you alright?”
He swallowed, and what felt like a hundred petals fell down the back of his throat, if he had to describe it. There had only been one to come out, last night (or early this morning?) in the shower, but he could swear it felt like there were more lingering in him. But there aren’t. He knows. Because everything is normal and all is well. “Yes, of course I am! What gave you that idea?! Why do you care?!”
Doumeki let go of his arm, which in Watanuki’s opinion he had been holding onto for far too long, and he rubbed it as if checking to see it wasn't broken. “Nothing. Just curious.” With that, he walked away.
He stood still for a minute. Doumeki left calmly. He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck, but that was the most interesting thing he did as he entered the building.
Watanuki coughed into his hand, hard and thick, bile rising in his throat, entire body shaking, a handful of blue petals coming out to unclog his windpipe. Just like last time, coated in blood. Throwing them to the ground, he stomped on and ground them into the concrete with his shoe, ignoring the wave of sickness that ran through him.
Maybe he should take the day off tomorrow.
Act Three
“It doesn’t matter. Even cut stems heal.
But what is the point of pain if it heals?
Some things should last forever, instructs
the florist’s note. Pleasure,
says one god. Shame, says another.”
- “Flowers from a New Love after the Divorce” by Paisley Rekdal
The plan was initially to just stay home by himself and mope around until whatever was happening to him passed over. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, or if anything was happening in the first place, but it was better to play it safe if he was sick. He’d even stocked up on cold medicine for something like this.
He had just finished dialing Yuuko’s number when the urge to throw up took over him.
He bent over the sink with his phone on the counter, completely disregarding Yuuko’s presence on the other end of the call, and hacked so hard his throat burned. He could feel the petals again, desperately trying to rise out of him, and before he could understand anything through the pain searing through him, an entire bundle of hydrangeas - stem still intact and everything - pushed out of his mouth, dripping with fresh blood.
The very sight of it made him collapse, gasping for air.
“Watanuki,” Through ringing ears, he could barely hear Yuuko’s voice on the phone. “You need to come to the shop. I’ll send Mokona to get you.”
He briefly registered that she hung up, and the last thing he saw before he passed out was Mokono looking down at him from its perch on his forehead.
“Hanahaki,” Was the first thing he heard when he woke up, wrapped in the blankets of Yuuko’s bed at the shop. He’d seen it once or twice while cleaning, but had never been in it to learn just how soft it was. She was sitting next to him, hand on his head. “Flowers grow in your lungs until you can no longer breathe. Your’s seem to be hydrangeas.
Flowers are a language of their own. You already know how the hydrangeas can speak in a literal sense, but otherwise they can be used as a form of communication,” She ran her hand down his cheek, noting how clammy his skin felt under her touch. “Hydrangeas, in most instances, represent grace, gratitude, and love.”
“Where does it come from?” Watanuki rasped, his throat still sore from all the coughing he’d been doing recently. He couldn’t say he understood what was happening at all, but through the fogginess of his mind he could just barely grasp what he was being told.
“Unrequited love.”
He blinked. “Himawari...?”
“Remember what the hydrangeas mean,” she shook her head. “You’ll have to figure out who is causing it on your own.”
“And then?”
“Confess, or let the flowers suffocate you.”
He swallowed the best he could. He could still taste the blood from earlier. “How long?”
Yuuko tapped a finger on her chin and leaned over, pulling something out of her bedside table and handing it to him with a glass of water. “Your’s is progressing faster than other cases I’ve dealt with. You’re infatuated with them. This pill will give you more time, in a sense, but I expect payment later.”
He glanced at her with a worried look, and took it while she ran long fingers through his hair. A small smile graced her lips as he slowly drifted off.
Intermission
“O! craving heart, for the lost flowers
And sunshine of my summer hours!
Th’ undying voice of that dead time,
With its interminable chime,
Rings, in the spirit of a spell,
Upon thy emptiness - a knell.”
- “Tamerlane” by Edgar Allan Poe
“Thank you so much for agreeing to do this with me today!” Himawari chirped, clasping her hands together with a smile as she entered the temple. She had brought a small box with her, containing some of the seeds her garden had produced. Doumeki simply hummed in response and led her to a small area he had sectioned out for their planting and laid out tools he found in the warehouse. The two of them sat down next to the dirt, Himawari handing him small packets of seeds as they divided the land between them and began to work.
She wouldn’t say she found his silence uncomfortable, really. Having known him for so long she’d learned how to get used to it, finding it comforting even, adapting to watch his body language and closely examine his stoic expression for any small changes. However, she still always felt a lingering need to fill it.
“So, Watanuki isn’t coming, then?”
“I don’t think you asked him,” Doumeki replied, calm as always, focused on digging holes for the seeds.
“Oh, I could have sworn I did… Doesn’t matter. I’m sure we can make it up to him!” She flashed her biggest smile. “Speaking of Watanuki, you both are friends, right?”
“You could put it that way.”
“I mean, you’re both jokingly fighting over me all the time. It’s hilarious! If I didn’t know you better I would have thought it was all a scripted comedy routine!”
“Everything Watanuki does is a comedy routine.”
Himawari giggled, pausing in her work to bring a gloved hand to her mouth. “See? Even without him here you’re still making little digs! You two must be really close.”
“Sure.”
She glanced over at him again and repeated what she had said. “I mean, you are friends,” Doumeki shrugged. His face betrayed no emotion, as always. “...Do you really hate him?”
He paused. “No.”
“And, does he hate you?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, that’s so awful!” She gasped, setting down her trowel in favor of bringing a hand to Doumeki’s shoulder. He didn’t move under her touch at all. “How can that be? Him hating you while you see him as a friend?”
“He’s in love with you.”
Himawari retracted her hand. “Well, of course. Don’t tell him, but it is pretty obvious. But what does that have to do with you?”
He began to sprinkle seeds into their respective holes in lieu of a response. She watched him, quietly, beginning to put everything together, piece by piece. She hadn’t noticed it before, how he acted towards Watanuki. It wasn’t particularly different than usual, but after hearing tales of their adventures together - only ever told from the boastful mouth of Watanuki, who may or may not have toned down Doumeki’s involvement in them to make himself look better for Himawari - she could have sworn she’d at least briefly wondered why Doumeki was being so self-sacrificial for him. Hurting his arm, digging for ten hours in the rain...
“You love him?”
Doumeki nodded.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he felt the same. You should tell him!”
Something of a blush flashed across Doumeki’s face, but nothing more than that. He shook his head. “I don’t think I can.”
“Really, you should!” Himawari covered the last of the holes and patted down the entirety of her section, done with her planting. “I’m sure nothing will change if you tell him and he doesn’t actually return the feeling! I can help you!”
“How?”
“Flowers, of course!”
“Flowers?”
“These ones here might not grow fast enough, but the garden I have at home that I told you about has plenty fully grown! You can make him a bouquet! Let’s see...Roses, the international symbol of love, obviously. Tulips, freesias, carnations, if you’re really worried he doesn’t feel the same way, you can add yellow roses for friendship, and maybe-”
“Hydrangeas.”
She blinked up at him. “Hydrangeas? Those aren’t really bouquet flowers, but we can make it work! Should I bring them to you tomorrow, and then we can get you all ready for the confession?”
He stared blankly, as if searching her for an answer. She smiled at him again, holding her hands together, almost pleading for him to say yes. If she was being honest, she wasn’t really shocked about his love for Watanuki, even without the knowledge of everything Doumeki did for him. “It sounds stupid.”
“Come on, Doumeki! You know how he is! Such a hopeless romantic...He’ll love it!”
“Fine. Tomorrow.”
Act Four
“And then when I could no longer breathe
they tossed me into a stream.
And I floated to the edge of the village
where someone prayed for my soul.
It’s like this in a lullaby
for the end of the world:
The options for the end
are endless
But this is not really a lullaby
for the end of the world.”
- “Dream Song #17” by Daniel Borzutzky
When Watanuki woke up, the stinging in his throat and the ache in his chest was gone. For the first time in the past three days, his body didn’t feel heavy, weighed down by an invisible force. He lifted his head. All he saw was nothing, yet everything at the same time, then the soft blowing of a breeze that wasn't cold nor hot hit his face and he’s standing in a field of flowers with water tickling his feet.
“This isn’t where you’re supposed to be.”
There was a voice in front of him and behind him, something soft and vaguely familiar. “Then where am I supposed to be?” He responded. Spirits, he’d learned, don’t like it when you brush past things they’ve said.
“Not here. This is…”
The wind gusted again, forcing Watanuki to widen his stance in order to maintain his balance. He shut his eyes and waited for the blowing to slow down. Loose petals and leaves pelted his skin, and the water beneath him changed directions. He swore underneath his breath that the second he got out of here Yuuko was going to get a piece of his mind.
When he finally opened his eyes, everything stopped.
In front of him was Doumeki. Tall and stoic and annoying-looking as ever. The sight made Watanuki grimace.
(He almost looked pretty with the flowers surrounding him, graceful, anything but the sore thumb he should have been dressed in all black with the colors swirling around him. Watanuki concluded that the thought had to be an effect of whatever Yuuko gave him.)
“This is my garden. Why are you here?”
“Like I should know,” He scoffed. “Yuuko gave me something to help with ‘hanahaki’, whatever that is.”
Doumeki hummed.
“What, nothing to say? We’re in some kind of twisted dream land and you still won’t talk?!”
“Have you really never heard of hanahaki?”
Watanuki blinked. “No, of course not! Who do you think I am?! I’m not some freak like you who just sits around reading dusty old books all day!” He grumbled, stepping forward to stand directly in front of the other, arms crossed. “Look, I’m here for a reason, will you at least tell me what it is?”
He hummed again. “I don’t know either.”
“How do you not know!? Didn’t you say this was your garden?! What does that even mean?” He flailed his arms around, just narrowly avoiding hitting Doumeki, who didn’t move an inch.
The wind picked up again, this time enough to send the two boys tumbling forward (although, it was more like Watanuki fell on top of Doumeki and pushed him over), falling further than expected into a pit of flowers. Purple and yellow petals floated around them as they fell, Watanuki screaming all the way down. When they landed in the soft bed - Watanuki clinging to Doumeki for his life - the taller of the two reached beside him and picked up two flowers, rolling the stems between his fingers.
Aconite. Misanthropy, caution, death, hatred.
Daffodil. Rebirth, chivalry, eternal life, unrequited love.
Watanuki scrambled to sit upwards, staring uncomfortably down at Doumeki, who didn’t seem to bat an eye at the whole ordeal. Before he could come to realize he had just supplied this information with absolutely no knowledge on the topic of flower language, he had to admit - as much as he hated the thought - he was beautiful. Not even just because he was back-dropped by hundreds of flowers. He was just...beautiful.
The way his eyebrows curved to look constantly mildly disappointed. How his lips curved and dipped, always straight aside from the rare smile. And what a smile it was. His cheeks were even lightly dusted pink, had they always been like that? Had he always been so perfect? Is that why his face was so infuriating?
“Oh.” Was all he could say.
“This isn’t where you’re supposed to be,” Doumeki repeated.
“Oh.”
He leaned down, slowly pressing his lips against Doumeki’s. There was a moment of hesitation, but before all the reasons that could be why rushed through Watanuki’s head, he accepted the kiss, leaning into it with everything he had. The flowers fell from his hand, landing among the rest of them. Doumeki trailed his now empty hands up Watanuki’s back, urging him into it even more and causing sparks to fly in his chest. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before.
They pulled away, out of breath.
Watanuki stared into his eyes for a moment more, just to sink in the surprised look they seemed to have, and then sighed. “How will I tell the real you?”
“Wait.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’ll die.”
Doumeki hummed. “Then die.”
Act Five
“I know flowers shine stronger
than the sun
their eclipse means the end of times
but I love flowers for their treachery
their fragile bodies
grace my imagination’s avenues
without their presence
my mind would be an unmarked
grave.”
- “from The Spring Flowers Own” by Etel Adnan
Coming out of his ten hour long dream among the flower fields to be met with the face of Shizuka Doumeki almost made Watanuki wish he hadn’t taken the pill and simply let hanahaki take him.
Or, to put it in simpler terms, he’d rather do anything than be face to face with the man he just kissed, even if it was in another world. Face to face with the idiot he just realized he had feelings for, feelings that were grabbing him by the throat - the lungs - and choking him to death.
“Oi.”
“That’s it? Oi?” His voice was huskier than it should have been, petals tugging at his throat once again. He missed freedom.
“Yuuko brought you here,” he continued, ignoring the remark completely and instead gesturing to the temple walls. “She said she knew I had something for you and you needed to receive it.”
“What, is this part of her whole payment thing again?” Watanuki scoffed.
Doumeki shrugged. Reaching behind the end of the bed - which, Watanuki now noticed, was softer and more comfortable than it had any right to be - he pulled out a small bouquet of flowers and handed it to him.
“What is this…?”
“Yuuko said you’d know what it meant. And...Himawari helped me pick them out.”
Watanuki stared at him blankly. Yuuko was wrong, obviously, apparently his knowledge of flowers only extended into the dream world, but somehow the act still lessened the tightening in his throat and lifted the weight off of his chest, just enough to where breathing almost felt easy again.
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“Thank you.”
There was a blush on his cheeks, probably a humiliatingly deep red, but Doumeki didn’t get the chance to point it out before they were kissing again, like they’d done in his dream. The bouquet was tossed carelessly to the side, his heart still beating the same way it did when he was kissing the fake Doumeki. His lungs opened even more.
He was always annoying, wasn’t he? Annoyingly nice to him, always too willing to sacrifice himself for Watanuki. To spend ten hours digging because what, he was afraid? Could he even be afraid? And with a bad arm he’d broken for him too. How annoying of him to take charge like that, to see Watanuki as someone worth saving.
Roses, freesias, tulips, and carnations scattered across the bed, along with hydrangeas that didn’t come from Watanuki, all crumpled and spattered in blood.
Maybe, then, Watanuki thought, it was alright. Everything would be alright.