Kaedehara Kazuha (Angst)

A maple leaf, stained a dark, dense red, falls onto the table among your study notes.
You try to quickly cover it with the palm of your hand before your childhood friend Kazuha notices, but the cough returns, striking your chest like a fistful of thorns. You apologize, your voice cracking, and hurriedly stand up, rushing toward the campus bathroom.
You lock the door just in time. You lean against the sink, gasping for breath, as a wave of maple leaves climbs up your throat. The pain is sharp, physical, but it's nothing compared to the bitter burning in your chest. Even though maple leaves symbolize love...you feel them as distance...The same distance you feel every time Kazuha smiles at you, completely unaware that you're drowning in the love you feel for him.
The doctor was clear last week: surgery can remove the roots of your lungs and save your life, but you'll forget everything you've ever felt for that person. You'll be free, but you'll be an empty shell.
You chose to remain silent. You chose to bloom until death.
A few soft knocks on the door startle you.
"Are you okay in there?" Kazuha's voice comes from the other side, filled with a genuine and warm concern that only intensifies the unease brewing inside you . "You've been acting strange for days, and you look so pale. Please let me in. You're scaring me."
You quickly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, trembling as you look at your reflection in the mirror. A small orange bud is barely peeking out from your lower lip.