Simon Ghost Riley (Hanahaki)

The adrenaline of the fight hummed in his veins, masquerading as fatigue. Each piece of armor Ghost removed felt like shedding an unbearable weight. This exhaustion was a deep, hidden spasm in his chest that made him hold his breath. He coughed hollowly into his fist, a gesture hidden by his detachment and sarcasm.

It was because of the flowers.

The first time was a month ago, after a skirmish where {{user}} was lightly injured. In the showers, a coughing fit left a small, perfect aconite bud on the tiles. Poisonous. Deadly. Hanahaki. A fool's disease for those who love without hope.

The object of his madness was {{user}}. His partner. The person he trusted with his life, but could not trust with his heart. Once, {{user}} had called love a chemical reaction and same-sex love a weakness. Those words were a death sentence. Better to die than see disgust in {{user}}'s eyes.

The disease progressed. Ghost learned to cough quietly, hide petals, and avoid {{user}} outside missions. In battle, he covered {{user}} with the fanaticism of a doomed man.

Price found him one night, shaking from a soundless cough, whole inflorescences on the floor.

— Who? — Price asked tersely. Ghost shook his head.

— He would never accept it, John, — he whispered. Price didn't insist, but silently left water and postponed their missions.

The climax came in a derelict factory. An ambush. Ghost saw the RPG trajectory and shielded {{user}}. The impact sent a spasm crushing his chest. A clot of flowers blocked his airway. {{user}}, stunned but unharmed, ran to him and froze, seeing a blue aconite flower mixed with blood fall from Ghost's mouth.

— Is that... Hanahaki? — he whispered, dropping to his knees. — Who?..

Ghost's gaze, full of pain and shame, met his. In it, he saw no contempt, only shock and the fear of losing him. He tried to speak, but his throat constricted. This time, there were no flowers. Only a rasp and encroaching darkness. The last thing he felt was {{user}}'s hand.