In the Time of Marigolds
Title: In the Time of Marigolds
Pairing: xiuhan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: eating disorders, swearing
Genre: angst
Length: 896 words
Summary: Lu Han thinks the bright orange flowers look good on Minseok's windowsill-and later his grave.
A/N: Please look at this as more of a snapshot than a story.
"Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody."
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
“You know I’m not the sentimental type, but I brought you flowers,” Lu Han says. He offers a small smile and holds up the ceramic pot as proof.
“They’re my favorite kind,” Minseok beams back. “Thank you for thinking of me, Lu Han!”
“Any time.” Default laughter kicks in.
Lu Han has no idea what kind of flowers they are-only that they’re bright orange with tapered leaves and most importantly come cheap at the local flower shop-but he’s glad that Minseok likes them. He places the pot on Minseok’s windowsill that overlooks nothing but parking lot and the other wing of the hospital. Even with a brick wall blocking the way, hopefully the flowers will get some sun.
But they probably won’t.
For the past two weeks, the sky has painted the world in monochrome. Everything it touches turns gray and drab and melancholic. Although clouds have been threatening to burst, they haven’t relinquished a single drop.
With botoxed foreheads that can’t wrinkle with mock concern, the news anchors report that the entire region is experiencing a severe drought. It hasn’t rained in two months. Crops are dying. Everyone’s waking up with scratchy throats and ashy elbows. Flushing your toilet should be treated as a luxury.
And Minseok, Lu Han thinks, hasn’t been spared from this drought either; he looks all shriveled up.
Lu Han blanches when he sees how Minseok’s hospital gown seems to swallow him up. Will there be any Minseok left when this is over?
“So,” Lu Han begins then falters. Shit. He’s bad at this. He’s never been good at treading lightly. If only he could go back to the days where he fearlessly kissed and marked and showed how much he loved Minseok. Long ago, there was a time when Lu Han didn’t have to worry about snapping twigs for arms or cracking the xylophone of Minseok’s ribs.
Because Minseok has always insisted that everything was okay, that he was strong enough, that Lu Han didn’t have to be so gentle.
When it was too late, Lu Han had learned that Minseok came with a “handle with care” label. But before anyone noticed it, Minseok had carefully peeled off the label and filled in his cracks. It was only when Lu Han had found Minseok, shattered and at the bottom of the stairs, that the truth came out.
His body no longer had enough energy to walk up the stairs, the doctors explained. It simply gave out.
And they all came tumbling down. All 206 bones.
Lu Han clears his throat and starts again. “So, how are you feeling?”
“A lot better!” Minseok chirps then makes a face. “But the cafeteria food is kind of gross. When I get home, I’ll cook us something good.”
Lu Han clenches his teeth.
“Bullshit.”
Minseok’s eyes widen in shock.
“That’s complete bullshit, Minseok. And you know it.”
The storm finally arrives.
“You always do this. You always act like everything’s okay when, clearly, it’s not fucking okay,” Lu Han says, his voice climbing higher and higher. “How would you know if the cafeteria food is shit? You haven’t been eating it. You haven’t been eating anything.”
It's a flash flood. After taking a deep breath, Lu Han can’t stop it from gushing out, “The nurses told me that you fucking cut your feeding tube. What the fuck, Minseok! You’re killing yourself. Is that what you want? Are you really trying to die?”
Lu Han can feel himself shaking with emotion. He clenches his fists and doesn’t know what to do with himself because Minseok isn’t fighting back, just staring blankly back at him.
Maybe there is no Minseok left.
Maybe what’s left is just Minseok’s carcass. After all, Lu Han only sees a skeleton sitting in the hospital bed, and it’s pretty unnerving to look into the gaunt eyes of death.
“If you keep this up, then you’re digging your own grave,” Lu Han says. He focuses his gaze on the orange flowers, the only splash of color in an otherwise grayscale room. At least, Lu Han finds himself thinking morbidly, he knows what kind of flowers to bring when he visits the cemetery. “You’re digging your own grave, Minseok, and I don’t want to be here to watch it.”
Minseok smiles, but there isn’t any happiness or laughter or memories of their past behind it. It’s a smile with no warmth because he can hardly generate any body heat.
“Then I guess I really am alone. That’s okay. I’m not really worth saving anyway,” Minseok laughs.
Somehow Lu Han finds himself kneeling beside the bed, clasping Minseok’s bony fingers in his hands.
“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Lu Han croaks. “I just-I don’t know. It’s so hard to watch you waste away. But you’re not alone. Don’t ever think that you’re alone.”
Tears form at the corner of his eyes.
Lu Han pleads, “And don’t leave me alone either. I can’t lose you, Minseok. I can’t. I’ll just waste away along with you.”
“You should never have relied that much on me.” Minseok turns to the windowsill. Since the sky shows no break in clouds, the orange flowers are an artificial sun.
Even though Lu Han’s still holding his hand, it feels like Minseok’s slipping from his grasp.
And they all came tumbling down. All 206 bones.
Pairing: xiuhan
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: eating disorders, swearing
Genre: angst
Length: 896 words
Summary: Lu Han thinks the bright orange flowers look good on Minseok's windowsill-and later his grave.
A/N: Please look at this as more of a snapshot than a story.
"Who wants flowers when you're dead? Nobody."
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
“You know I’m not the sentimental type, but I brought you flowers,” Lu Han says. He offers a small smile and holds up the ceramic pot as proof.
“They’re my favorite kind,” Minseok beams back. “Thank you for thinking of me, Lu Han!”
“Any time.” Default laughter kicks in.
Lu Han has no idea what kind of flowers they are-only that they’re bright orange with tapered leaves and most importantly come cheap at the local flower shop-but he’s glad that Minseok likes them. He places the pot on Minseok’s windowsill that overlooks nothing but parking lot and the other wing of the hospital. Even with a brick wall blocking the way, hopefully the flowers will get some sun.
But they probably won’t.
For the past two weeks, the sky has painted the world in monochrome. Everything it touches turns gray and drab and melancholic. Although clouds have been threatening to burst, they haven’t relinquished a single drop.
With botoxed foreheads that can’t wrinkle with mock concern, the news anchors report that the entire region is experiencing a severe drought. It hasn’t rained in two months. Crops are dying. Everyone’s waking up with scratchy throats and ashy elbows. Flushing your toilet should be treated as a luxury.
And Minseok, Lu Han thinks, hasn’t been spared from this drought either; he looks all shriveled up.
Lu Han blanches when he sees how Minseok’s hospital gown seems to swallow him up. Will there be any Minseok left when this is over?
“So,” Lu Han begins then falters. Shit. He’s bad at this. He’s never been good at treading lightly. If only he could go back to the days where he fearlessly kissed and marked and showed how much he loved Minseok. Long ago, there was a time when Lu Han didn’t have to worry about snapping twigs for arms or cracking the xylophone of Minseok’s ribs.
Because Minseok has always insisted that everything was okay, that he was strong enough, that Lu Han didn’t have to be so gentle.
When it was too late, Lu Han had learned that Minseok came with a “handle with care” label. But before anyone noticed it, Minseok had carefully peeled off the label and filled in his cracks. It was only when Lu Han had found Minseok, shattered and at the bottom of the stairs, that the truth came out.
His body no longer had enough energy to walk up the stairs, the doctors explained. It simply gave out.
And they all came tumbling down. All 206 bones.
Lu Han clears his throat and starts again. “So, how are you feeling?”
“A lot better!” Minseok chirps then makes a face. “But the cafeteria food is kind of gross. When I get home, I’ll cook us something good.”
Lu Han clenches his teeth.
“Bullshit.”
Minseok’s eyes widen in shock.
“That’s complete bullshit, Minseok. And you know it.”
The storm finally arrives.
“You always do this. You always act like everything’s okay when, clearly, it’s not fucking okay,” Lu Han says, his voice climbing higher and higher. “How would you know if the cafeteria food is shit? You haven’t been eating it. You haven’t been eating anything.”
It's a flash flood. After taking a deep breath, Lu Han can’t stop it from gushing out, “The nurses told me that you fucking cut your feeding tube. What the fuck, Minseok! You’re killing yourself. Is that what you want? Are you really trying to die?”
Lu Han can feel himself shaking with emotion. He clenches his fists and doesn’t know what to do with himself because Minseok isn’t fighting back, just staring blankly back at him.
Maybe there is no Minseok left.
Maybe what’s left is just Minseok’s carcass. After all, Lu Han only sees a skeleton sitting in the hospital bed, and it’s pretty unnerving to look into the gaunt eyes of death.
“If you keep this up, then you’re digging your own grave,” Lu Han says. He focuses his gaze on the orange flowers, the only splash of color in an otherwise grayscale room. At least, Lu Han finds himself thinking morbidly, he knows what kind of flowers to bring when he visits the cemetery. “You’re digging your own grave, Minseok, and I don’t want to be here to watch it.”
Minseok smiles, but there isn’t any happiness or laughter or memories of their past behind it. It’s a smile with no warmth because he can hardly generate any body heat.
“Then I guess I really am alone. That’s okay. I’m not really worth saving anyway,” Minseok laughs.
Somehow Lu Han finds himself kneeling beside the bed, clasping Minseok’s bony fingers in his hands.
“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” Lu Han croaks. “I just-I don’t know. It’s so hard to watch you waste away. But you’re not alone. Don’t ever think that you’re alone.”
Tears form at the corner of his eyes.
Lu Han pleads, “And don’t leave me alone either. I can’t lose you, Minseok. I can’t. I’ll just waste away along with you.”
“You should never have relied that much on me.” Minseok turns to the windowsill. Since the sky shows no break in clouds, the orange flowers are an artificial sun.
Even though Lu Han’s still holding his hand, it feels like Minseok’s slipping from his grasp.
And they all came tumbling down. All 206 bones.