Fragrance of Pain: I will lay bare my heart on the thirtieth of February

Whispers of the Han River: Confessions Under the Moonlit Tree The door was knocked on once again, but the brunette still paid no attention, continuing to grip the edges of the sink tightly. It was overflowing with white, blood-stained rose petals, and with each passing day, there seemed to be more and more of them. It felt as if the queen of flowers was intent on slowly killing him, suffocating him in a soft, gentle, fragrant aroma with fruity notes that blended so well with the middle notes of his favourite perfume, L'Homme Ultime. He shudders from another attack, his lungs burning in hellish flames. One hand clutches his throat, squeezing slightly, but the pain does not subside. The rose thorns scratch him from the inside, and the white petals block his oxygen. There are two options to survive: yes, he has scoured all possible forums, either losing his emotions or confessing his feelings. Lately, he has been leaning towards the first option, as everyone around him, even the members, sometimes considers him cold and prickly. What was the first impression of him? That it would surely be difficult to make him smile, that he would hide his feelings until the very end? So why not start living up to it, even though he kept those suffocating emotions deep inside? Park, with trembling, cold hands like ice, frantically gathers the petals. The illness is not contagious, but his members do not need to know that he is gradually withering away. Sunghoon collects them in a dark cloth bag, crumples it, and stuffs it into the pocket of his sweatpants. He washes away the blood, trying not to miss a single drop. From the voice on the other side of the door, it is Niki. He hates that metallic taste mixed with the scent of roses. It seems he is beginning to feel disgusted by her favourite flowers or perhaps hatred towards her, mixed with all-consuming love. Park opens the door after a second check and forces a smile. "Why did you take so long?" the maknae asked, looking at the elder with displeasure. As soon as the hyung stepped aside, Niki entered the necessary room. Sunghoon just shrugged in response to Nishimura's question and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Heading towards the living room, Sunghoon sat on the right edge of the sofa, leaning against the armrest, and focused his gaze on some programme, probably a comedy show. His life was a complete tragedy, so maybe this show could lift his spirits. "Hey," Lee, who had changed his sitting position to lying down, comfortably rested his head with a pillow on the brunette's left thigh and looked up at him. "Are you okay?" Heeseung genuinely looked worried. The last time he behaved like this was when Jay and Anna got together, as they were soulmates. The main concern was the fans and their reaction, although nothing serious happened, and he felt relieved. "You don't look well, and your complexion has been looking quite grey lately." "Everything's fine, I'm just tired," he said, hiding the mark under the metal bracelet of his Rolex watch, one of many in his collection. He was somewhat of a collector. "I'll get some rest over the weekend and be full of energy," Sunghoon forced a smile and picked up his phone, squinting at the bright light. He sighed and slightly dimmed the screen before opening Instagram. Among all the members, he was the only one who had it before his debut, an old account created during his figure skating days, where he posted photos and freestyle skating videos. Coming across another post from the user for_everyoung10, his heart clenched in another attack, overwhelmed by pain, and he struggled to breathe again. It was a good thing no one could see who he was following. Another day of survival, a whole week had passed since the first blood-stained white rose petal fell from his lips. *** He’s been playing his part flawlessly for a second week: obeying the choreographer without a murmur, writing songs for the next album, filming a drama, cramming English, Japanese and Italian, adhering to a rigid personal timetable, and forcing a calmness he does not feel. Sonhoon’s heart is gone missing; everything is unbearably complicated. Pak does his best to pretend the thorned stems tearing into his insides aren’t real, to ignore the petals crowding his lungs. He swallows tablets in secret that blunt the pain and slow the flowering, knowing that one missed dose cancels the effect and sends the bloom racing forward at double speed — a cruel tariff for a moment’s forgetfulness. Now he clutches his ribs as if he might hold himself together with his hands, fighting for a breath that keeps slipping away. Instead of air, there is an increasing itch at the back of his throat and a fresh spatter of petals wrenching free from between his swollen lips, slick with blood. The burn of the mark on his left ribs is sharp and familiar: the same rose, a bud in bloom and one petal fallen at the stem’s base. It would be easy to guess whose mark it is — except Chang Wonyeon hasn’t got his yet, while Pak’s has been there since he was born. After another careful tidy, Pak collapses onto the bed and fixes a doomed gaze at the ceiling, as though the milky-white plane above him might finally answer questions that will not be answered. There is a second cruelty: in their group, the night keeps a proud, pleasant hush that shelters only Lee Hisun. The others still have their sometimes-unbearable, in Pak’s case, over-attentive roommates. Jay knows him too well, and in this moment, that knowledge becomes a liability; there is no hiding an illness forever. Sonhoon is still shocked; he kept it secret for a week, but luck has finally turned its back without warning. With each attack, his soul withers a little more; the edges of his vision darken, and suffocation tightens its grip. White petals, stained bright where blood has touched them, fill the air and his lungs until it feels like the world itself is drowning him. A thin line of blood runs from the right corner of his mouth. Pain detonates behind his eyes, reverberating through every molecule of him. He slides from the bed and crumples to the floor, a ruined silhouette of the elegance he once projected, shoulders hunched, hands clamped around his throat in a futile attempt to smother the spasms. Each squeeze is an apology to a body that betrays him. The door opens as another torrent of petals pours from his mouth; he lifts his eyes in a panic and meets his soulmate’s face. He forces a brittle, embarrassed smile at the failure that has escaped him. The last clear impressions before the world goes black are his friend’s eyes blown wide with terror and a single, raw cry, then a dark that somehow steadies the mind. “Sunghoon!” His weakening hand lets the phone slip; the screen shows the tail of a message thread — not hard to guess who he’d been texting. Pak scrambles up and collapses beside the soulmate he has known for years. “Call an ambulance!” he gasps. The others pour into the room, frozen in the doorway; Hisun swears and dials for help with shaking hands. *** Blood-stained lily petals fell from her lips for the second time that long day. Sometimes these petals got stuck inside, forcing her to turn her insides out just to rid herself of the foreign object in her body. She definitely shouldn't have fallen in love with a cold guy who didn't care about this feeling and who simply adored lilies. At least, his appearance strongly hinted at that. She gathered the petals, crumpled them, and threw them away. The lily notes in her perfume, Ange ou Demon, became more distinct with each passing day, though it shouldn't have been that way. "Are you taking long?" "No, unnie, I'll be right there. You pick a film in the meantime, just please, not a romance!" "Alright," the elder's cheerful laughter faded along with her retreating footsteps. *** "I don't know who this girl is, but you absolutely must confess to her soon!" Jay repeated these words for the umpteenth time after Sunghoon opened his eyes, fully aware of where he was. "Fine," Park, tired of hearing the same words, decided to name any date just to get his soulmate off his back. "I promise I'll confess on the 30th of February," he said, exhaustion taking over, causing him to close his eyes and succumb to a nap, accompanied by the beeping of the machine that continued to remind him of the still-functioning organ in his chest politely. He wished he could get rid of it, rip it out with its roots, and live his life peacefully. Unfortunately, one couldn't live a day without a heart that needed to keep beating, and the smell of the oddly soothing medications. Before Park, sitting by the couch, could realise the words his soulmate had said about a non-existent date in an existing month, Sunghoon had already fallen asleep. Jongseon's body still felt only fear bordering on despair at his fingertips. Losing a loved one was painful; watching them wither before your eyes was even worse. After a loss, there remained a sense of an empty chair in the soul that no one could replace with their own, and a part of oneself torn away with the death of a loved one, turning into the tiniest pollen, scattering in the wind. Deep down, everyone hoped that at least one speck would swiftly rise to the azure skies, where that person awaited. It pained Jay to no end to watch his withering friend, who he was sure had long chosen the path of a painful death instead of saving himself. *** "If things get worse," Heeseung began, breaking the oppressive silence that hung over them. In his mind, three words kept echoing: "How much worse?" "The surgeon will operate on him." "Hyung is unlikely to agree to that," Jungwon said, sitting in the shadows by the wall, leaning against the white wall of the ward, his lips pressed into a thin line. It turned out he was a lousy leader, unable to notice such obvious changes in one of his favourite hyungs. The fact that this very hyung had skilfully hidden it was tactfully overlooked. How could he lead the team if he couldn't notice that one of his members was so unwell that he was coughing up blood-stained petals? Damn... "In this situation, no one is going to ask him," Jake's voice was firm. The boy looked as if he had lost about ten years of his life in this very hospital. Watching the slow death of a dear person, with whom they were like brothers of different blood, could be counted among the worst moments of his life. "It's better for him not to have feelings for one person than to be dead," Shim wasn't going to witness their not-so-holy trinity becoming an ordinary, broken duo. The maknae line shivered at the last word, while the elders shared Shim's opinion. Hyung was discharged the next day, although the attending physician was against it. But against the will of the patient himself, who, as soon as he saw his silhouette in a white coat, began to ask for "early release," eventually achieving it. Dr. Seo had seen many patients in his practice, but he disliked these types the most: stubborn rams who would do anything to leave the hospital even a second earlier. The surgeon was ready to curse Park to the ends of the earth, but instead, he measured him with a disapproving look. Usually, such patients were those who elevated this meaningless feeling of love and cherished it sometimes more than their own lives. How many like him had the surgeon pulled from the brink of death, he couldn't count. Dr. Seo released him, increasing the dosage of his medication. *** Wonyoung had one of the craziest ideas that didn't visit her dark head too often, trying to ensure her peaceful existence in this love-ridden world. The long-haired girl got up from her seat and, approaching her dressing table, comfortably settled on the chair, immediately grabbing the first lipstick she found. She wrote her first letter to her soulmate, biting her upper lip in pain. *** Sunghoon lay calmly in bed, tired of the oppressive supervision of the members. The brunette had strictly forbidden them from showing their noses in his room. Unfortunately, the ban didn't apply to Jay, as this character lived with him in the same room. The former figure skater raised his right hand, feeling a tingling sensation, though it was more like a tickle. He decided to shine his phone's light a bit to find out what caused it and deal with the problem, only to see a message written in beautiful, neat handwriting in a rich red colour: "Please love me back if it's you, if not, then make me fall in love with you, my soulmate, save me." The message disappeared after a few minutes. It seemed his destined soulmate decided it was a bad idea and, before it was too late, erased the traces of her little crime, not realising that she had already been caught. *** Her chest tightened with another attack, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. The pain was excruciating. Soon, she was supposed to meet her MC partner for their joint performance rehearsal. Could she survive? She had no intention of losing her tender feelings for him, and they had chosen a song about another breakup as if the last one hadn't been hard enough. It felt like a knife to the heart, the wound eventually becoming a scar. *** They met each other two days later in the rehearsal room that belonged to the elder's group. Both looked worse than death but smiled too brightly at each other. The silly illness subsided when the object of their strong and destructive feelings was nearby. Finally, they could take a few necessary breaths of air. It was a pity they couldn't take an extra breath of oxygen to avoid suffocating from the flowers. The friends began to warm up while waiting for the choreographer. "You don't look well," Sunghoon observed the younger one secretly. Her appearance hinted at bad feelings as clearly as days turned into nights. "What happened to you?" "Nothing serious, oppa, I just caught a bit of a cold, that's all," the younger one glanced at the brunette in response and was dissatisfied with the result. It pained her to see that he was unwell, evidenced by the dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep and broken capillaries. The young man seemed to have fully embraced their debut vampire image, which should have been left in the distant past, as so much time had passed. "What happened to you?" Wonyoung, not realising her actions, approached the boy and gently touched his cheek, looking into his eyes. "Just a bit tired," the young man hugged Jang around the waist for just a few seconds, giving her a chance to be in paradise with one touch and then immediately letting go, bringing her back to the mortal world. Something broke in his chest. He couldn't hold himself back. He wanted to hug this princess all the time, especially when she was so tired and broken, to calm her down and give her warmth from his pure heart, but he couldn't... Park forced one of his smiles that had appeared somewhere in the distant past when the icy pedestal belonged to him. He changed the subject, "I really want some coffee, shall I get you some?" "What?" Jang was a bit taken aback, but after a few seconds, she found the strength to answer, "I... well... as always?" "Alright, I'll be right back, Wony," he said as the door closed behind him. The girl's hands were on her cheeks, trying to hide the blush. Her heart skipped a beat, or maybe it was beating every other beat, she couldn't tell. It was a pity she couldn't see the fleeting embarrassment the elder felt when he licked his lips, an old habit. This time, Wonyoung felt the tingling on her arm. On her fair skin, letter by letter, a whole word appeared in beautiful, calligraphic handwriting, making her gasp and remember her own with some awkwardness. The dark inscription read: "I will confess on the 30th of February..." The elder returned with a small snack set and two cups of cold vanilla latte with ice. It seemed there were no limits when this person was around. *** Another hanahaki attack struck each of them in the dormitory. Could they survive without getting rid of their feelings for each other? *** The next morning, the internet literally exploded because of a post by user sh_park. The young man, wearing an ecru shirt, jeans, and a beige coat, stood by the sea on the beach. The setting sun spread across the sky in streaks, giving it a unique colour. One of his hands was in his jeans pocket, while the other held a white rose, the blooming bud tilted towards the camera, with a caramel-pink tint on the petal tips. Below was the caption: "I will confess to you on the 30th of February." The young woman's heart skipped a beat, starting to race. Yesterday, her soulmate had sent her the exact same message when the elder stepped out for a few minutes. But she noticed something strange: there was redness on Park's hand, as if he had tried hard to erase something from it, in the very spot where the message might have been. She frantically grabbed her phone, which she had just set aside, and dialled his number, which she had memorised by heart in the middle of the third week after they met. But after three rings that felt like an eternity, the realisation that she was doing something wrong suddenly hit her thoughts. She abruptly ended the call and fell to her knees, like a puppet whose strings had been cut by the puppeteer. Another attack and the hated petals of blood-stained white lilies. Should she confess and die with dignity if rejected, or wait for the disease to put an end to her life? She couldn't afford to lose her feelings for him; it was too scary, but time was running out. The young woman didn't recognise herself in the reflection; it couldn't be her, emaciated to the limit, with dark circles under her eyes that even professional makeup couldn't hide, and a strained smile on her lips, deceptively covered with gloss. She didn't recognise herself... Noticing the missed call from Wonyoung, Sunghoon weighed the pros and cons before calling back. "Oppa?" The voice on the other end of the line trembled, as if the girl had been standing in the cold for hours, hoping the filming would end soon so she could warm up with a cup of hot cocoa. "What's wrong with your voice?" The brunette nervously ran his hand through his hair, not knowing what to do with himself. "We're just filming a music video, and it's cold outside. Why did you call, oppa?" "Didn't you call me first without waiting for me to answer?" "I... it happened by accident." "Let's meet at our place today at nine, can you make it?" "Well, if it's necessary, we can. Again on that bench by the tree?" "Yes, let's meet there. Don't be late." "Oppa, it was only once, stop reminding me about it!" *** That evening, they met by the Han River, near a grand tree that concealed an old, unremarkable bench, a silent witness to countless tales of sorrow, solitude, and joy. "Did something happen?" After a long silence, the younger one broke the stillness. Though she felt a serene comfort in his presence, curiosity gnawed at her about the reason behind their sudden rendezvous. "Did you see the post?" Park rose from his seat and approached the ancient tree, its bark etched with the passage of time. After her nod, Sunghoon continued, "I have two choices: to confess and move forward, or to await my end. So, I want to tell you..." His nerves were more frayed than before any stadium concert. "Oppa, the caption you wrote under the post, you wrote it to your soulmate a day before posting the photo, didn't you?" The girl smiled, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "If so, then maybe it's me." She took a marker from her bag and drew a delicate cardiogram with a heart at the end on her wrist. The same drawing appeared on Sunghoon's wrist, and the realisation spread through his body like a gentle tremor. "If it weren't for hanahaki, I might never have confessed to you." "What?" "Roses are truly a severe case." "Lilies are no better. I love you."