#I’m sorry I… I need to relax this appt has me anxious

[smoreal]

HATE getting that feeling where I’m in a manic state of productivity bc then I feel like I have to DO IT ALL RN OR ELSE and it’s literally so awful

[emoboijk]

jhs | carnations

“But carnations? Oh, what a beautiful flower. They come in every color. True, some are painted, but that doesn’t mean they are less beautiful, and they never wilt.” (Ruth McLeod-Kerns) or you fall in love with your fuck buddy—hanahaki disease au, friends with benefits au, flora & fauna series

2,510 words

p.cred

The waiting room is beige with a dark brown carpet, the kind that has either always been that color or is that color as a result of years of use. There are paintings (ironically) of flowers on the walls, and potted plants stationed randomly between the chairs. A receptionist sits behind a counter, typing on a computer and answering the phone when it rings. Aside from her, there are seven people scattered about the room.

You're wedged into a chair that's been pushed against the window, the sun hitting your back and making you feel warm for the first time in ages. The doctor said that might be a side effect of the blood loss; your circulation is less than stellar now that there's nothing to circulate. Your fingers and toes are practically made of ice now.

HOEbi: when r we meeting up? ;)

You frown down at the message. He sent it at 3 AM so you know he was drunk, out with some of the guys from his frat or his dance team. But it's the latest in a string of messages from him that ask the same question.

You're not sure how long you had expected to keep up this charade, but you had definitely hoped longer. There's no disguising it now. You can't be in the middle of hooking up, start coughing bloody carnations and expect to keep the momentum going. Bloody flowers sort of ruin the mood.

You run a hand through your hair, swallowing against bloody, petal-infused bile, as you try to come up with a response. Some subtle way of evading him yet again. But you're in the middle of thinking when the incoming-text animation appears.

HOEbi: sorry about that! :)

HOEbi: but really when am i going to see u?

HOEbi: i miss u :(

You roll your eyes, a smile coming to your lips despite yourself. You suppose that was really what you fell for; he's a good fuck, obviously, but that sort of sweetness and humility. He radiates warmth and friendliness.

I have an appt today

HOEbi: oh u sick?

HOEbi: i have a (meat) thermometer that might help ;)

Fucking hell. Is he still drunk?

Disgusting

HOEbi: if i promise to never say that again can i see u tonite

Maybe…

You're smiling at your phone like a dope.

A fourth person gets called in by the nurse when your screen changes. Incoming Call. Chaeyoung.

"Hey, what's up?" you wedge your phone between your ear and your shoulder, "I'm at the doctor's."

Your body goes stiff when you hear her crying. It's not a soft, gentle crying, it's violent sobbing and dry heaving.

"What happened?"

"I," she's stuttering, "I, I, I…I got into a car accident." She hiccups and cries harder. You run from the waiting room without so much as a look to the receptionist or the other patients.

You can see the accident from three blocks away; there are two police cars with their lights flashing and a tow truck backing into place. You don't spot your sister until you're closer; she's sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a streetlight with her face in her hands. You pull into the grocery store parking lot nearby and race across the street.

"Oh my god," you breathe and Chaeyoung looks up. Your whole body relaxes when you see she's not injured, but Chae crumbles when she spots you. Her hug is nearly a tackle and her arms like a vice. You choke slightly as her grip forces flowers up your esophagus.

"What happened?" you whisper hoarsely.

Chaeyoung pulls away and you wipe her cheeks of tears. "I just," she hiccups, "I just looked at my phone for a second."

Your curse instantly. She knows how you feel about that. But one look at her expression and you know that totaling her car is punishment enough. You stroke her hair and say, "At least you're alright."

"But my car," she sobs.

You look over to where she's pointing, realizing that you hadn't actually seen the damage yet. "Fuck," you exhale. Her lime-green Dodge Neon is nearly half the size it used to be, the front end smashed into a streetlight, which toppled over and crushed the top of her car.

You rub circles into her back softly, "At least you didn't hit another car…"

Chaeyoung curls into your side and starts crying again. You squeeze her shoulder and pull out your phone, muttering about calling the insurance company, but you nearly jump when you see Hoseok's sent you another message.

HOEbi: srsly i need to tell you something important

It makes you cough; flower petals dance through the air to the pavement and blood runs down your chin.

The Emergency Room is bustling. And you want to leave because, honestly, it gives you anxiety.

"I'm fine," you tell your sister for the millionth time.

"People who are fine don't cough up blood for no reason," she replies for the millionth time.

You roll your eyes and go back to staring at Hobi's last message. You still haven't replied (what with your sister dragging you to the ER for no reason). (Well maybe a little reason).

A doctor appears beside the bed, almost as if from thin air, with his nose in a chart. He says your name as a question.

"That's me," you confirm, "But I really don't need to be here."

"Is that so?" the doctor says, putting on a pair of gloves.

"She coughed up blood," your sister interjects and you hiss profanities at her before you can help yourself.

The doctor chuckles and grabs a tongue compressor from a cart. "Say ‘ah'."

You don't.

"I won't let you leave until you do."

You open your mouth but you do not say ‘ah'. The doctor looks inside and frowns and you know what he sees.

"Yeah," he says, "I'm going to have to admit you."

Your sister is clutching your hand like she's the one who will have to stay in the hospital. "What's wrong!" It's a question but it comes out a desperate whine.

The doctor looks at you skeptically for a moment, trying to gauge how much you know. You roll your eyes and tell your sister, "It's called Hanahaki disease."

"What?" It's almost a shriek.

"And an advanced case at that," the doctor says, removing his gloves and scribbling on your chart, "I could see an entire carnation at the back of your throat. How are you not in pain?"

"I never said I wasn't in pain." You avoid looking at your sister because you don't feel like explaining yourself.

The doctor humphs in your direction and scribbles something else on your chart. He turns and barks at a nurse to admit you and to call Dr. Lee.

You lean against the exam bed you're perched on, giving in to your exhaustion. You close your eyes but can still feel your sister's gaze on you, full of questions. You don't have the energy; you pretend to fall asleep.

"How much pain?" the same doctor asks.

You still don't feel like opening your eyes; you hold up seven fingers. Chaeyoung's grip on your wrist tightens and you know she wants to yell at you but she's scared. Normally, you would woman-up and comfort her, but you're weak. You don't feel like taking care of her right now. You just want the burning in your throat and the stabbing in your chest and the iron on your teeth to go away.

"I'll give you something and a nurse will come to take you to a room."

You nod and wince as he gives you the medication. It works immediately, a comforting nothingness rushing through your body. This time you really do fall asleep.

You blink awake to a smart-looking female doctor shaking your shoulder; there's a crowd of younger doctors with clipboards standing behind her. She smiles when you meet her eyes.

"Hey there, sorry to wake you, but I need to do an initial check," she stands up straight, "I'm Dr. Lee."

You nod and push yourself up in the hospital bed. You're in a new room. There's a consistent beeping coming from one of the machines. Chaeyoung is passed out on an uncomfortable-looking loveseat that's built into the wall.

Dr. Lee asks you all the routine questions (how long and how much and who is it?). You answer them with a purposefully bored tone. Then, when your phone goes off halfway through the questions, your tone is not so much bored as anxious.

"Something you need to check on?" the doctor asks when you turn away from her for the third time. The phone goes off a second time and you realize it's in Chae's bag.

"No."

"It's okay," the doctor says, "We're done. We'll take you up for x-rays so we can see the extent of the damage and then talk about options."

"Fine," you nod.

It's almost thirty-six hours before you see Dr. Lee again (you've been counting). In that time you've slept, went through a battery of tests and scans, and ate four meals. Chaeyoung wouldn't leave for the first twelve hours until you insisted she go home and get your toothbrush at least (after promising she wouldn't text while driving your car). (Ugh, her car, you still need to deal with that).

You checked your phone when she left after her first visit.

HOEbi: c'mon u know i don't like to be serious

HOEbi: i gotta real talk

It caused another fit of coughing and the nurse told Chaeyoung to keep you from your phone. You were kind of relieved. His messages make you worried and uneasy, worst-case scenarios flying through your mind like locusts through a field of wheat.

And then, the strangest thing happens: the pressure in your chest dissipates.

When Dr. Lee does finally come in she's beaming. She smiles at you like she has a secret before turning and pinning two x-rays onto a lightbox.

"This," she points to the first, "is your initial scan, from when you were first admitted." It looks like an abstract painting. Black and white shadowy shapes, floral outlines imprinted on lung impressions.

"And this is your scan from this morning." This x-ray is significantly less cluttered. There's still a floral design in the way of the lungs but it's diminished.

"Am I getting better?" Your eyes scan the array of doctors she has behind her, "I was told that wasn't possible."

Dr. Lee leans against the railing at the foot of your bed. "Hanahaki is a tricky disease," she taps her fingernails, "Studies show that the majority of the cause is in the mind, with real, dangerous, physical manifestations," she shrugs, "Logic says that if you get over the mental part of it, the person on the other end of your unreciprocated love, you'll get better."

That strikes you. Get over him? You hadn't felt such a significant shift. You still thought about him, you still missed him...maybe not in the pining, desperate way of a few days ago... But you wouldn't say you'd gotten over him.

"Time away must be all you need," the doctor says, "We'll keep you here another day or two to make sure that's what's helping, and then you should be good to go." She pats your ankle comfortingly and turns to the others, leaving just as swiftly as she had arrived.

Your chest feels lighter but your mind feels muddier than ever.

Twenty-four hours later, you're actually smiling when Hoseok shows up while you're chatting with Chaeyoung. He knocks on the door before sliding it open and sticking his head inside.

It sort of takes your breath away. It's been almost a week since you've last seen him and whoo, he looks good. All tan and glowing, dark hair spilling over a headband and eyes like gemstones. His lips are pulled into a nervous heart shape and it makes your chest feel heavy (although it doesn't prickle with pain like it used to).

"Hobi?"

"Hey," he says and it's brimming with relief. Glass half full. He steps fully inside and his eyes scan down the length of your body. He chews on his bottom lip, "Alright?"

"I need a soda," your sister announces. Too abruptly. She stands and hurries out of the room, turning to wink at you before closing the door. It makes you roll your eyes.

"How did you find out I was here?" You tilt your head to the side.

"I, uh, kept texting you? Your sister responded."

You raise your eyebrows. You glance around the room and spot your bag; waving your hand at it you say, "Could you…?"

"Oh, yeah." Hoseok passes it to you. While you dig through it, he glances around before deciding to sit in the chair by your bed. He hesitates for a long moment before deciding to lean against the railing; he's missed being close to you.

There are over twenty missed text messages. A couple from your parents and your friends, but most are from Hobi.

From right before you were admitted:

HOEbi: did i scare u lol

HOEbi: it's not that big of a deal

HOEbi: honestly i don't even need to tell u

HOEbi: really it's ok let's just meet up

And then another the next day:

HOEbi: i missssss uuuuuuuuu

You smile at that one, scrolling to the next day's messages:

HOEbi: are u not texting me back cuz of what i said

HOEbi: cuz it's fine we don't have to talk

HOEbi: unless it's dirty ;) ;)

HOEbi: pls don't hate me

That actually makes you laugh. You can almost picture him texting and getting anxious. And then yesterday:

HOEbi: k i'm really worried

That's when your sister started replying.

She doesn't hate you. My sister loves you.

I'm Chaeyoung.

HOEbi: uh hey

HOEbi: wait! loves? really?

Duh

Anyway she's in the hospital

You're blushing. "Sorry."

"It's okay," he shrugs and when you look over he's giving you that smile. The one he gives everyone but that makes you feel extra special, the one that lights you from the inside. You wonder if everyone feels that way when he smiles. Maybe not. Maybe that's what makes it special. "You're in the hospital." He frowns, "Why didn't you tell me?"

You tuck a piece of your hair (stringy and unwashed) behind your ear, "We're not...anything. You didn't have to come. I...I didn't want you to see me like this."

He raises his eyebrows. His face is so open and vulnerable, soft and sweet. "I want to see you in every way." He runs his hand through his hair before lacing his fingers through yours. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I want to be more." He squeezes your hand.

On every single one of your anniversaries after that, Hobi gives you a bouquet of carnations. The note always says: We beat 'em.

author’s note—don’t ask me about hobi’s texting style because i have no answers

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[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hey Em, Fi/Fe anon again. Thank you for your response, it was very well put and comprehensive. About my perceiving axis, I know I’m a sensor, but identifying Si vs Se has been pretty hard for me also. I focus on the concrete of course, as sensors do, but I enjoy abstract ideas sometimes if I’m really interested in the particular subject. I crave novelty and while I know every human has some kind of routine, I enjoy breaking out of the normal and doing something spur of the moment. Ofc I (1)

really care about my personal hygiene and making sure I look good, so that’s not a part of my “routine” that I enjoy skipping. And I’m an introvert in the non-MBTI sense anyway so yeah, I like getting home and relaxing and being by myself, but I’m pretty much up for any adventure even if it’s spur of the moment, my only problem being having multiple things going on stresses me out because I want to do all of them, but some things need to be prioritized (like appts, for example). I like doing (2)   

things, not necessarily being busy but being engaged, I despise being bored, but doesn’t everyone? I require constant stimulation, though, because I get bored easily. I consider myself observant, but ofc I have days where I’m stupid and things fly over my head. But when it comes to “reading people” as I said, usually the way I do it is through body language and those cues, which I’m very attentive to and pick up on easily. Sometimes I overanalyze though, and worry. I love adrenaline but that(3/4            

doesn’t always mean Se. I don’t relate to always wanting routine and tradition but those could be Si stereotypes and true for some but not all. However I relate to the “sensory impression” thing, and I have a really good memory of details as well. By sensory impression I mean I usually get a “vibe” or feeling from a place/event/situation and it’ll make me want to avoid it if it’s bad, because I have bad memories/feelings associated with it. Like the first day of school, it (4/5 sorry again)            

sucked two years ago so I’ve been prepared for it to suck because we do the same things every year, which remind me of those “vibes” and feelings from before, and to an extent get now. I do sometimes get anxious about an expected bad outcome, but it’s usually something singular and specific to the situation rather than many things. I always remember the vibe or experience I got from before in the situation, and reference it/hope things do/don’t go similarly. I hope this helps, thank you! (4/4)             

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Hi anon, this sounds more like Se; as a rule Si users do not like spur of the moment changes and while it may seem counterintuitive the feeling like the first day of school will be bad because it was bad a few years ago is a little more simplistic than what high Si would perceive. I also think you sound more like a feeler in writing style and your areas of focus here, so my previous answer does apply in your situation.