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It felt like ages since you last saw Austin. Well, almost two, to be exact - since before COVID and the filming of Elvis in Australia. You couldn’t wait to hear about Austin’s time in Australia and filming a movie with THE Baz Luhrmann - Mouline Rouge! was one of your favorite films of all time, and you could not believe your best friend got the chance the work with such a legendary filmmaker.
And if you were being honest with yourself, you had missed Austin terribly. Sure, you both kept in touch via FaceTime and text when production shut down during the pandemic, but it wasn’t the same. Once production began again, Austin cut off all contact with the outside world to give himself entirely over to playing Elvis.
His sudden absence took some getting used to. Austin was a constant in your life since middle school. You both bonded over being wallflowers and a love of classic cinema and pop culture. After his career as an actor took off more in regular roles in projects like The Carrie Diaries and The Shannara Chronicles, your quality time became less frequent, but your bond never ceased.
Your feelings for Austin might’ve started right before you graduated from high school when you went to your senior prom together - just as friends, of course. You wore a tea-length black gown with a lacy top, and Austin wore a rented tux with a simple black bowtie. You can still remember him pulling you close during the slow dances. Your heart still skips a beat when you remember the feeling of his slim fingers holding your waist, pulling you closer to him. But you buried your feelings. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship. You didn’t want to be that cliche friend who falls in love with the guy best friend. You didn’t want him to reject you. You didn’t want things to change.
You loved your relationship with Austin now and would do anything to keep it. If that meant gulping down your feelings while he dates a Disney Channel star, that’s fine. You went as the third wheel to the bars while you tried to stop imagining what it would be like to have him twirl your hair with his fingers, what it would feel like to have him squeeze your side, to press kisses to your forehead.
It stung.
But you liked things the way they were.
And yet, it was getting harder and harder to pretend you didn’t like your best friend that way. COVID lockdown didn’t help either. Swallowing your feelings felt like trying to dry-swallow ten pills at once. It became harder and harder to pretend like his cerulean blue eyes didn’t make your heart skip a beat and that he didn’t make you melt into the floor and vomit all over his shoes simultaneously.
His rising fame didn’t help either. It started around the premiere of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. The news got out he would play Elvis in the upcoming biopic, and his stardom began to skyrocket. Girls from all over began to throw themselves at him. He could have anyone - why would he want you? Your measly media job was nothing compared to actresses, models, and industry women. So you’d just continue to suffer through these feelings that would surely go away if it meant you remained friends.
So, as soon as Austin texted you about meeting up for drinks when he returned to California, you couldn’t say no. You wanted to see him and hear about all that transpired Down Under before he became way too famous even to grab a casual bite to eat with.
You beat Austin to the quiet bar on the outskirts of LA and grabbed a small hightop table near the back. Soon after, you turned and saw your lanky best friend, still tan from the Australian sun and Elvis spray tan, practically skipping your way.
He yanked you out of your chair and into a bone-crushing hug, the broad grin never leaving his face, “Oh my, oh my, Y/N/N, it’s been too long, sweetheart.”
Swallow your feelings. Bury them deep, Y/N.
“I missed you, Aus, or should I say, Mr. Presley?” You teased.
He chuckled as he sat at the table, his hand pushing through his sandy blonde locks. It felt like mere minutes ago, you were going with him to get his hair dyed black professionally shortly after he got the role.
The conversation took off from there. You caught up on everything you could possibly think of - Baz, Elvis, your recent promotion, your failed fling with a guy from Hinge, and his recent visit to Graceland. He felt at home once again, and you prayed you never had to let him go again. Things were good, things felt right, things felt normal. Until Austin smirked a bit and leaned in closer to you, hands splayed flat on the tabletop between your third margarita of the night and his fourth old fashion.
“So, Y/N - guess what?”
You leaned in closer, matching his energy. Wow, those margaritas got to your head a bit, didn’t they?
“What? Tell me. Tell me!” You tease back.
“Ok, so I was in this yoga class the other day, right?” He starts
You interrupt, feigning hurt,
“Without me, ok, cool.”
“I’m sorry I was still jet-lagged, and Ashley dragged me along!”
You laugh at his quickness to defend himself.
“I’m just teasing you, coward, go on.” You waive your hand and tag a big swig of your margarita.
“I met the most beautiful girl! Oh, Y/N, she was so lovely - her name is Kaia -”
You felt your heartbeat in your head. You couldn’t even hear the ending of his ranting because you felt a loud ringing in your ears, like a rock concert was playing right next to your table. He kept speaking with animated expressions on his face, hands waving around like he was telling some elaborate story, unbeknownst that you felt the bar walls collapsing around you.
But all you could do was smile. All you could do was nod. Act like you’re happy. You’re so delighted for him.
That’s so great, Austin!
“She has the most beautiful brown eyes.”
That’s so great, Austin!
“Her smile just lights up a room.”
That’s so great, Austin!
“We grabbed smoothies after yoga and talked all afternoon.”
That’s so great, Austin.
You felt like you were on autopilot. Have you ever made a move? No, of course not! Because you wanted to preserve the friendship. Why should you be mad at Austin for finding someone he connected with when he didn’t know how you felt?
But at the same time, it felt like there was no way. This couldn’t be happening.
You couldn’t be here anymore. You had to leave. You had to go before the walls closed in on you, and you couldn’t breathe. Your chest felt like it was on fire, and you were choking on the flames. Austin’s head turned, and his eyes narrowed as you hastily pulled on your jacket and reached for your purse. You fished out a couple of twenties from your wallet and put them on the table, pushing your chair back and trying to avert eye contact.
“I’m sorry, Aus, I forgot I have a work thing early tomorrow, so- um, yeah, I-I gotta go.”
Austin sprang up as you tried to bolt for the door, grabbing your arms as you swept past him.
“It’s Saturday tomorrow - are you ok? I can drive you ho-”
“NO!” You snap back way too quickly.
You clear your throat as a hurt expression crosses his face, laced with confusion, “I mean, it’s ok. I’m just gonna grab an Uber. We’ve both been drinking so….”
“Are you sure, sweetheart? I can call Ashley and have her take us home.”
“It’s no problem. Look! It’s already on the way.” You flash your phone in his direction and jerk your arm away from his hand. You already missed the warmth from his ring-clad hangs.
“Ok. Can you text me when you get home safe - or at least share your Uber with me?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowed, clearly bothered by your abrupt exit.
“Sure, Aus. I’ll see you later.” You let out a sniffle and couldn’t contain a wet cough. Where did that come from?
“Are you sick, Y/N? You sure you’re feeling ok?” He pushes.
You clear your throat again, the fire continuing to spread throughout your chest and up your neck.
You nod enthusiastically and plaster on a smile a pageant queen could only dream of, “Fine. I’ll see you later.”
“Y/N. Wait -”
But you had already flung yourself out the door, surging down the street toward the non-existent uber. You should probably call one. Your lungs continued to burn, the flames engulfing your chest cavity. Your nails scratched along your neck and chest, your lungs feeling like they were twisting, pulsing with each breath.
Is this what a heart attack felt like? Are you dying?
It all went downhill with one cough escaping your throat. A cough that tickled the back of your throat and burned with irritation. You had no tissues, so you hacked into your jean-jacket-covered elbow. Your mouth tasted of iron, but you missed the flecks of color splayed on your sleeve.
When you finally arrive back at your apartment, you shakily unlock the front door and throw your keys in the bowl. Quickly stripping off your jacket, you sprint to the bathroom, seizing a handful of tissues from the box resting on top of your toilet. The fire in your lungs had morphed into sharp pains on the way home. It felt like thousands of tiny knives were slicing open your lungs as the coughing turned from uncomfortable to downright violent. Your throat burned as you brought the tissues away from your face and your blood ran cold as bright scarlet coated the stark white tissues.
What was happening to you?
Ice-cold fear spreads throughout your body like the dowsing of freezing water. Your breathing became heavier - which caused more searing pain to spread throughout your chest. The itch in your throat increased as another coughing fit wracked your body. Your body flew to the ground, and you desperately lifted the toilet lid as you upchucked the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. When your coughing finally ceased, you wiped the tears streaming down your cheeks and spat out the remaining liquid in your mouth. Confusion wracked your body as you peered into the toilet, and you were met with the sight of tiny flower petals mixed with blood.
Tears sprang to your eyes and you lifted a shaky hand to your mouth.
“What is that?” you whispered to yourself.
Panic swelled in your chest as you fell back to your knees. You looked at your jean jacket and found the area where you coughed earlier still gleaming a wet crimson. Oh my god, breathe, Y/N. Breathe! This is a nightmare. You’re dreaming, and this will all be over when you wake up. There is a rational explanation for all of this - right?
You squeeze your eyes shut and pinch your left arm, willing the flower petals and blood to go away. Please go away. I’m going crazy. Please go away.
You peered into the toilet bowl and saw the petals slowly swirling in the streaks of blood.
Oh god.
You thought sleeping on it would make you feel better. After a good night’s sleep, you will wake up from this manic episode. You surely couldn’t go to a hospital and claim you were throwing up flowers - that would land you on immediate psych-watch!
You curled up in bed, exhausted, but your body still buzzed with adrenaline. The tissue box was carefully placed next to your bed with a trashcan beside your bedside table in case you woke up in the middle of the night. Tears leaked out of your eyes, and muffled sobs wracked your body as the coughing worsened. Constant tossing and turning all night, trying to get comfortable, and will the burning in your lungs to cease.
You didn’t get out of bed for two days. The pain only got worse, the petals kept coming, and the taste of blood never left your mouth. While your phone continued to light up with worried texts from Austin, groupchats, and checking-in texts from your mother, you couldn’t care enough to answer, let alone look at the messages. When Monday rolled around and the work week began, you notified your boss that you would be working from home due to exposure to an illness (a little white lie never hurt anyone, right?). Can you imagine having to explain away your bloody tissues to some rando in the bathroom?
After receiving an email from your boss to not worry and feel better, your phone began to buzz.
Austin.
It had been days since you last talked to him, so you should let him know you were alive. Giving one last violent cough into a stray tissue, you picked up your phone and clicked ‘answer’.
“Hey, Austin, wha-”
“Y/N! My god, are you ok? You had me worried sick! I was about to call the police and fill out a missing persons’ report!” Austin practically roared at you.
“I know I should have answered your texts, and I’m sorry about-”
Austin kept ranting over your frankly half-assed apology, “Did you even think about letting anyone know that you were ok? My sister and Ashley tried to call you too, and nothing! I even had Kaia look up the police reports to make sure you weren’t murdered, and no one knew about it!”
Austin’s mention of Kaia triggered another coughing fit to ensue. You tried to keep the hacking to a minimum, but you felt more and more petals push up through your throat, coating the inside of your mouth.
“Y/N? Hey, sweetheart, are you ok?” The intensity from Austin’s lecturing instantly dissipated, replaced by genuine concern. He had never heard you sound this sick.
You cleared your throat after wiping the sides of your mouth, the bright crimson still there. “Yeah, Aus, I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t text you back.”
“Honey, are you sick? I can stop by and bring you some groceries. Kaia and I could make you some dinner and drop it off?”
Kaia and I. You swallowed another round of petals galore.
“No. Aus, it’s fine. I’m just working from home for a couple of days. I’m sure it’ll pass.” You hope it passes.
Austin could hear a difference in your voice over the phone. You sounded weaker, colder, and not like your usual self. He didn’t understand what he did wrong to deserve you ignoring him.
“Alright, but I’m gonna keep checkin’ on you. Please, please answer your phone next time, Y/N.” Austin pleads.
“Sure, sure. I gotta go.” You could feel the burn rising again, the petals flooding your mouth.
“Y/N - ?” You hung up quickly and sprinted to the bathroom. You lay there for the better part of the morning, petals and blood continuing to trickle from your mouth. The pain was suffocating, and the coughing made your limbs feel weaker and heavier as the days dragged on.
Austin kept texting you and checking in. Making sure you were still alive, which you were, but there were times when you wished you weren’t. In your text conversations, Austin kept you updated on him and Kaia, utterly unaware of the pain he was causing you.
He didn’t know - which was your fault, yes.
But he didn’t know that every text caused more petals to come up.
Unaware that you tried to hold your breath because it wasn’t as painful as the blood soaked the back of your throat and the petals got stuck between your teeth.
By the end of the week, you couldn’t even get out of bed because of the excruciating pain in your chest, heart, and mind. Each retch and convulsion of your body felt like it would be the last, yet time ticked by slowly. Petals and splatters of blood littered your apartment.
At the end of the week, you heard a knock at the door. Oh god, you hadn’t even showered, brushed your teeth, or run a comb through your hair. You pulled on a bra and ran your fingers through your hair, ignoring your muscles screaming out in pain - if Austin were the one at the door, he wouldn’t leave until he saw your face.
Peering through the peephole, you saw Ashley standing with Jupiter in her carrier, a worried look plastered on her face. Any other time you would love to have Ashley and Jupiter come in, the small child a source of joy and laughter in your life.
You could not let her see you like this.
You opened the door just a crack, not showing your whole face and ratty clothes.
“Hey Ash, so good to see you!” Is that really how your voice sounds right now? I guess after throwing up blood and petals for an entire week and not speaking to anyone since Austin’s phone call turned you into a sixty-year-old smoker.
You could feel how weak your voice was and how fake it came off. “Listen, I don’t want to get Jupiter sick, so I don’t think this is a great time right now.”
Ashley paused at the sight of you. Even through the tiny sliver of you visible through the door crack, she hardly recognized you. Your face looked gaunt, your cheeks hollow, your eyes looking lifeless. She had just seen you a few weeks ago, looking bright and happy - now the twinkle in your eyes looked clouded and buried behind a wall of pain.
“Y/N? Oh my god, honey, let me in. Are you ok?” She asked, concern laced in her voice.
You could barely stand on your own, your grip on the door handle being your primary source of strength as you were practically shaking.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, Ash, just a little under the-the weather, that’s all.” You could feel the petals rising in your throat, the firing overtaking your chest - nearly making you double over.
“Why don’t I just come in and heat up some soup I made you?” Ashley pressed, coming closer to the door.
“No, no, it’s fine, I’m - ” you cut yourself off by wheezing into a tissue, your grip on the door handle and the side of the doorframe tightening.
Ashley’s eyes widened as she saw stray drops of blood track down the sides of your mouth. Are those petals?
“Y/N?” She questioned apprehensively.
You shook your head and tried to hide the bloody tissue as best you could.
“Y/N, get out of the way. I’m coming in.”
You didn’t even have the strength to fight her off as she carried Jupiter’s carrier into your living room. Ashley couldn’t even hold in her gasp as she finally took a good look at you.
“Oh, Y/N, what happened?” You looked like a shell of your past self. Like the life was drained out of you. Your hair looked limp and lifeless. Your cheeks are prominent, the rest of your limbs so thin. Your throat was too raw for food, and your lungs were stuffed with petals, resulting in your frail and skeletal body.
Sweat pooled over your brow, and your hand rose to wipe at your nose - more blood. Ashley’s jaw practically hit the floor - she couldn’t believe it was you standing in front of her. Tears pooled in your eyes, and the weight of what was happening to you finally came crashing down.
You panted as you crashed into an armchair. Ashley quickly put down Jupiter’s carrier and ran to your side, trying to prop you up.
“Ash, I-I think something’s wrong. I don’t - I don’t know what to do.”
“Shh. Y/N it’s ok. I’m going to take you to the hospital, and we’ll get this all figured out.”
“No, it’s fine,” you insisted, pulling out your phone. “I found this - I think this is-is what’s going o-on.” You pull up the article and hand it to Ashley.
One-sided love. A disease. The victim of one-sided love coughs up flower petals, and a cherry blossom tree blooms inside their lungs. It didn’t make any sense, yet you understood what was happening. Ashley read out your three options going forward.
One: let the disease literally kill you as you suffocate and choke on the flower buds.
Two: get Austin to love you back. That seemed like a long shot right now.
Three: undergo surgery to remove the cherry blossoms, but lose Austin Butler from your memory.
You didn’t realize you were so far along in the disease progression. At this point, the disease would practically kill you within the day. But you didn’t want to forget Austin. You couldn’t imagine a life where you didn’t have memories of your friendship - from braces and first crushes to career-defining roles and late nights at the bar—losing your memories of him? Not an option. You would rather the disease kill you.
You didn’t realize Ashley walked into the kitchen with her phone in her hand, tears streaming down her face as she looked like she was shouting into the phone. Her voice felt like it was underwater - your breath coming out in short bursts.
You could feel the burning spread through your chest and out to your stomach, throat, and arms. More petals incoming.
You shakily lifted yourself from the armchair, your feet felt numb, and the flames engulfed your muscles as you staggered to the bathroom - shutting the door and locking it behind you.
You faintly heard Ashley pounding on the door in the background.
Lifting the toilet seat, you heaved the contents of your stomach, your body vibrating, sweat pouring down your back.
Are those thorns?
Tiny sharp sticks swirled amongst the petals - little chunks of flesh stuck to some with a scarlet background. Your body collapsed to the side of the toilet. You couldn’t even lift your limbs, feeling some stray blood trickle out of your mouth.
This felt like a poetic end. While the pain felt never-ending, it felt justified and poetic as you refused to let go of your love for Austin and let it kill you instead.
One full blossom made its way out of your throat - mere inches from your face.
You heard a pounding on the door, which turned to a heavy BANG as the door flew open.
“Oh sweetheart, oh my god.”
Austin.
You didn’t even have the strength to move your head to look at him.
He crouched beside you and gently picked up your head, cradling the back of your neck as he looked down at your pale, shaking figure. Your lips were coated in a thin sheet of blood, and the sides of your mouth cut up from thorns leaving your body.
He can make out the small pool of blood next to your head from the bathroom floor, some flower petals and blossoms scattered across the floor. Blossoms, thorns, and petals circle the porcelain bowl. His heart drops to his stomach as he realizes they came from you. Because of him.
“Oh, my sweet girl. You’re ok. It’s ok. I’ve got you - I promise.” He soothed you as tears pooled in his eyes and ran like train tracks down his cheeks.
You looked at his cerulean blue eyes - oh, those eyes you loved so much.
“Aus?” You whispered.
“It’s me, doll. I’ve got you now. You’re gonna be ok.” He assures you. His long fingers cart their way through your hair, tracing your sharp cheekbone.
“It hurts Aus.” You whimper.
“I know, I know, but just hang on for a bit longer, sweet girl.” He quiets you.
You shake your head as best you can. You can’t hold on. You could feel the vines in your chest expanding. Your breathing turned to sharp wheezes.
“I don’t think I can.”
Austin shook his head, wiping the tears leaking out of the sides of your eyes. “Yes, you can, baby, you can’t leave me here today.”
“It’s for the better, Austin.” You choke out.
You could feel his hot tears fall on your face as he cradled your head to his chest, “No, baby, don’t say that. Stay with me, Y/N, please stay.”
You can barely shake your head, your eyes feeling heavy. “It’s for the better. I know it’s for the better.”
Your voice was but a whisper.
He shakes his head, “It’s not. It’s not, Y/N. I can’t live without you, baby.”
He draws in a shaky breath, his voice coated with tears. You could feel his body shaking as he held you closer.
“...t’s for the better.” you gurgle out, trying to bring your hand up to his face.
“It’s not, Y/N! It’s not. I’m better with you. It’s you! It’s always been you.” He begs you. This can’t be it. You can’t leave him like this.
Sobs wrack his body as you keep repeating in a faint whisper, his hair curled between your fingers: it’s for the better.
“Please, Y/N. I love you. Sweetheart. It’s you. It’s always been you. It’s you and me until the end.”
“You-you’re my b-best friend.” you whimper, another violent cough shaking your body. You turn your head and spit out the blossoms onto the tile floor.
“No, Y/N. I’m in love with you. I fell in love with you that day in middle school - do you remember when your contact popped out, and we spent twenty minutes in the bathroom trying to get it back in?” He began rocking you, praying the paramedics were almost here.
A ghost of a smile danced along your features. Austin continued, “You didn’t want to put on your backup glasses because you said they were too dorky. But then you dropped the contact in the sink, and it went down the drain.” Austin chuckles, remembering the sheer look of horror on your face.
He continues to brush your hair with his fingers, hoping to keep you awake and confess the feelings he’s had for almost twenty years.
“You put on your glasses and told me to cover my eyes. But I couldn’t look away. I thought you were the most beautiful person I had ever seen in my entire life.”
He looked down at you, the wheezing not as intense as a few minutes ago.
“That’s when I feel like I saw you for the first time. I knew then that I wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. I didn’t know it was love at first, but as we grew up, I knew. It was you. It’s always been you.”
Austin laced his fingers with yours. The ache in your chest began to loosen, your wheezing shifting to deep breaths.
“I love you, my Y/N. It’s been twenty years, and god, I need you. You are a need in my life. Which is why you have to hold on for me right now? Because you can’t leave me now. Not when we haven’t had our first real date. Not when I haven’t asked you to marry me. Not when we haven’t gotten to say I do and dance until our feet hurt. Not until we have a beautiful baby girl with your eyes and smile. Not until we sit on a big porch and grow old together. Because I need my best girl for those moments.”
You bring both hands to the sides of his face, caressing the soft skin along his jawline. You smile up at him as you take a deep breath - no petals this time. Option 2 unlocked.
“I love you, Aus.”
His smile widens down at you, “Yeah?”
You laugh and wipe the blood from your lips, “Yeah, I do.”
As the paramedics arrived and you were taken to the hospital, Austin’s hand never left your side. They kept you overnight for observation, and he still managed to find a way to crawl into your tiny hospital bed with you.
Even after they cleared and deemed you perfectly healthy, his hand never left yours. With empty lungs but a full heart, you headed home with a newfound love by your side.