This one starts off good but then gets kinda shit ngl.

H e a v y angst warning for hanahaki, slight graphic description, and all that good stuff. Bear that in mind.

Song is 'let you down' by NF
———

Pathetic.

That's what Tango was.

Pathetic.

Like a lovesick teenager, stomach full of butterflies, head full of air, heart full of meaningless hope.

He was such a fucking idiot, he let his emotions get the best of him and now he was paying for it.

How poetic.

He bent himself over a toilet, throat on fire as he hacked and wheezed, petals of an inky black hue sputtering from his mouth.

Inside the toilet bowl stood lone petals, parts of true flowers that had come uninvited into his stomach, blossoming and blooming, eventually finding their way out of his system as he dry heaved.

Wither roses, covered in blood, taking him within an inch of his life every time they decided to make an appearance.

Hanahaki disease.

A surprisingly uncommon infliction, which was currently running rampant through Tango's system.

It stems from a crush.

Fall hard enough for someone, you start coughing up their favorite flower.

If there was one reason to hate Impulse, Tango thought, it was his taste in flowers.

While Tango admitted he did like wither roses, his impression of them was thoroughly soured as a cluster of thorns scraped through his throat- threatening to pierce through his neck.

Even as they clawed their way up his stomach, the wither effect ran through Tango's veins, his skin growing steadily grayer as the life was squeezed out of him.

For fucks sake, was this really how he'd go?

No, no, no, if he could just grab his commun-

Hack!

Wheeze!

A few more petals clawed at his throat- aching, begging- to be let free, the potent magic inherent to the buds ripping through his senses, a wave of indescribable pain eating him alive.

It was like he had drunk acid, and it was slowly gnawing it's way through his body, melting his insides, pain he had hoped he would never feel to tearing at every inch of his body.

If this kept up, he would die.

C'mon, communicator, don't fail me now. Tango thought as the next wave of petals brewed in his stomach.

It took a couple of clicks, but hands shaking he brought the phone like object to his ear.

Ring..

Ring..

Ring..

"Hello hello-" a garbled voice filled Tango's ears, the distinctly masculine sound familiar to Tango.

"M- My.. my ba-" The blonde's voice cut over whoever was on the other end, a coughing fit interrupting him. Tango's voice was hoarse and tired, clearly in pain.

"Ba.. base.. come over, n- no.." more violent coughing, as rockets could be heard from the other end of the line.

"Breathe, Tango, I'll be there in five." The man spoke with worry in his voice, Tango wasn't one to pull a prank like this.

"H- Hur.. Hurry.." Tango wheezed, his eyes slowly slipping shut as he felt his grip on consciousness fading.

His body was fighting itself, the flowers in his intestines battling against every other instinct in his system. It was shutting itself down, activating every fail safe available.

But none of it worked, how could it?

His body wasn't meant to fight off.. whatever this was.

Plants? Growing inside him? How the fuck was his body supposed to deal with that?

It was almost pitiful how hard he fought to keep conscious, wave after wave of pain and adrenaline numbing him. He just wanted it to stop. It hurt so much.

It was all so much.

Blood lubed his throat as more petals flew out of him, the pain never truly going away.

"Hold on, tango," the voice on the other end was steady and calm, but Tango couldn't bring himself to respond, afraid his throat would rip itself apart at the slightest strain.

His eyes slipped shut, letting out a few more pathetic sputters as he felt himself slowly fading.

Ringing filled his ears as blood rushed to his head, the sound so mind numbingly loud Tango barely registered the sound of his phone clattering to the bathroom tile.

His communicator sputtered unintelligible garble, the person on the other end growing more and more frantic.

Tango couldn't bring himself to pick the phone back up, body nearly limp as he braced himself on the toilet rim.

God, if help didn't arrive soon-

Deep breaths, Tango, in and out, in and out. Wave after wave of drowsy-ness washed over him, sleep, his body begged.

Surely, just a few minutes couldn't hurt?
———

"Shh, Shh, Tango, it's ok.. take a bite of this.."

When Tango next awoke he was lying on his bathroom floor, cradled in someone's arms, an enchanted golden Apple inches from his face.

Ugh, his head was killing him- not to mention.. well, everywhere else.

He felt like he was burning from the inside, a small, pathetic moan tearing from his throat, unable to do more than the bare minimum.

He couldn't tell who was holding him, but he could tell that there was a golden Apple in front of him, and that's all that mattered.

He took a quick bite, the metallic coating snapping like a cracker to reveal the supple apple flesh underneath.

Golden apples were sickly sweet, like all healing items they tasted like liquid Tylenol, but who was Tango to complain?

The second the glimmering coating hit his tongue it dissolved, along with the pain ravaging his system.

Regeneration was truly a wonderful thing.

Tango shot up from his positing in the mystery man's lap, swiping the notch apple from his hands to take another frantic bite.

"Savor it, those are rare," the man, now clearly Etho, said, pleased the apple had the intended effect.

The masked man rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a glass bottle full of a thick gray liquid.

"Hanahaki?" Etho questioned, watching as Tango let out a sigh of relief.

"Y- Yeah.." Tango confirmed, letting out a gentle moan. The apple certainly helped, but there still were flowers in his stomach, and moving triggered their wither effect. He was left in an uncomfortable state as the two effects fought it out, Wither vs. Regeneration, who would win?

Well, it didn't really matter who won, there was really only one person involved, Tango, and no matter what the outcome was, he'd lose.

Etho handed Tango the bottle of sludge, "it will temporarily kill the wither roses. And if you don't mind me asking, who's the hanahaki.. y'know.. for?"

Tango accepted the potion, gingerly removing the cork, and hands shaking, he brought it to his lips.

A couple of sips later, he put the cork back into the bottle, letting out a sigh as he faced Etho.

"I.. I'm.. I'm so fucked." Tango murmured, any semblance of hope drained from his voice.

Because he was.

He loved Impulse.

And Impulse was engaged to Zedaph.

"What do you mean?" Etho asked, brows furrowed as he starred at Tango.

"I.. Impulse.."

That was all Tango had to say.

Etho's pupils nearly covered his irises, drawing in a hissing breath through his teeth. "T- Tango.." he stuttered, taken aback.

"I know! I know.. he's engaged." Tango looked away in shame, bringing his knees to his chest.

"You.. you.. are such a fucking-" The cosplayer jumped to his feet with surprising grace, taking a few furious stomps away from Tango. "We'll need to go off server for surgery," he said, worry edging into his voice.

The red-eyed man shook his head, eyelids fluttering closed as he looked down. "You can't remove wither roses. Any attempt at moving them and.." He let out a small cough, the effects of the medicine already starting to wear off.

"It's why they tell you to mind the thorns.." Tango muttered, dread pooling in his stomach.

"Well.. we have to try.." Etho sighed, pulling out his communicator.
———

The doctor had been hesitant to perform the surgery.

Mostly because it was still very much in its experimental phases.

Pesticides killed wither roses, but if you sprayed human intestines with pesticides, the results would be less than savory.

The thought process was simple, create something that killed wither roses and not humans.

The execution was more difficult than anticipated, and while they had come up with something that was functional, it was still very much risky.

Tango had to sign multiple fancy looking papers, have extensive talks with a doctor, and even write up a will.

A few hours before the surgery, he had presented Xisuma with a folded up piece of paper.

His instructions were very simple.

"If I don't make it, give this to Impy for me, yeah?"

Xisuma, of course, said yes.
———

It had been twelve hours since the surgery started, and none of the hermits had dared to blink.

Impulse especially was a wreck, curled up in a chair in the back corner of a hospital waiting room.

This was all his fault.

This was all his fault.

This was all his fault.

This was all his fault.

If Tango were to die, it would be his doing.

How could he have been such a fool?
———

"I'm.. sorry.."

And suddenly, time stopped.

Everyone lived life as if they were invincible.

'That would never happen to me!'
'I've survived this long!'
'The doctors will take care of him!'
'It's not that bad!'

But, no one is invincible.

Life is so fragile.

Anything could end it at any time.

Your heart could stop beating.

A car could be going to fast.

Flowers could grow in your stomach.

You could learn what it means to love,

Only to leave behind what it means to lose.

We all wish we were invincible, but at the end of the day, we're only mortal.

Dear Impulse,

I love you. It wasn't your fault.

-Tango