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Bad winced as he coughed another throatful of flowers into the bucket, his mouth bitter with the taste of petals. They were awfully pretty, he thought, sitting back on his heels and taking a long deep breath. Normally, he’d save a few of the more in tact flowers, gently washing off any blood or spit before pressing them. It was weird to keep the flowers that grew in his lungs, but it was hard to resist. They were just so nice, it seemed a shame to throw them out. Still, he restrained himself this time, mostly because he knew Skeppy would make fun of him.
“Bad, buddy, we can’t keep doing this,” Skeppy said, gently rubbing Bad’s back, passing him a glass of water. Bad didn’t see why they couldn’t, really. He liked how worried Skeppy got, like a flustered nurse, comforting him through each coughing fit and checking in on his every need. It would’ve been nice in any other situation. “It was fine when it was like, a bit of pollen, but if you keep coughing up vines, you’re gonna strangle yourself from the inside out.”
Bad shook his head, cupping the glass in his hands and taking a tentative sip. The water eased some of the soreness in his throat he’d earned for coughing so much, washing the bitter taste from his lips. It was difficult to drink much without agitating the small garden that had taken root in his lungs, but Bad couldn’t just go thirsty. “I told you, Geppy, I don’t know who it is,” Bad lied.
Skeppy stood up, pacing the kitchen, running his hands through his air. “You can only get sick with hanahaki if you’re in love, how can you be in love and not know it?” He protested. It was an argument they’d had many times before over the past few months. “Look, we need to figure this thing out, I only have one best friend and I don’t wanna get a new one.”
“I’m not gonna die you muffinhead,” Bad said softly, standing up and pulling Skeppy into a hug. He didn’t plan on it either. As difficult as confessing feelings could be, it certainly wasn’t worth dying over. Honestly, he was just putting off the inevitable, waiting for the “right moment”, as if such a thing existed. He pressed his face into Skeppy’s shoulder, comforted by the familiar smell of shared dollar-store detergent. “I just don’t want to ruin anything. What if I confess and it messed up my friendships?”
Skeppy leaned his head back, looking Bad in the eyes with annoyance. “Well if they’re a good friend, they wouldn’t want you getting sick for them. Maybe it’ll be a little weird if they don’t feel the same, but who cares?”
Bad closed his eyes, deciding there was no place more comfortable than wrapped around Skeppy’s shoulders. “What would you do if someone confessed like that?” He mumbled, wondering it it was possible to fall asleep in a standing embrace.
Skeppy paused for a moment, sputtering. “Well, I mean, uh... I wouldn’t be surprised, obviously people are always falling in love with me.” Bad giggled softly at that. “I mean, if I didn’t feel the same way, I’d still be glad, you know? Like, confessing would make them stop being sick, and it’d be flattering, I guess.”
Bad pulled away, bending down to pick one of the flowers off the vines. Morning glories weren’t the most pleasant to cough up, considering how easily they tangled in his throat, making it hard to breathe. But they were such pretty flowers, such a wonderful shade of blue. He smiled, spinning the flower in his fingers. “I guess you’re right. He just means a lot to me.”
Skeppy didn’t seem too pleased for their impromptu cuddle to end so soon, whining softly as he wrapped himself around Bad, clinging to him like a flower vine. “So you /do/ know who it is! You liar,” he said, pouting. “Who is it? I swear to god, if it’s fucking Quackity—“
“Language!” Bad scolded, biting back laughter. “And what if it was Quackity? Since when do you get to decide who I fall in love with, you muffinhead?”
Skeppy grumbled, pulling Bad close, resting his chin over his shoulder. “You can date anyone you like! I don’t care, it’s like, whatever. But if it’s Quackity, I’m never talking to him ever again.”
Bad burst out laughing, his cheeks flushed pink with delight. “Oh my goodness Skeppy, that’s so mean!” He closed his eyes, unable to hide his smile. “It’s not Quackity.”
“Then who?” Skeppy asked, grabbing Bad’s hand and squeezing it. “You can trust me, Bad.” He sound oddly vulnerable, as if afraid of the answer he might hear.
“I guess I should just get it over with,” Bad said sheepishly. “Before I get /really/ sick or anything.” Taking a deep breath, he turned his head, pressing a brief gentle kiss against Skeppy’s cheek. “It’s you.”
“...Me?”
Bad could feel the vines in his lungs begin to with as he nodded. It was almost a shame. He’d gotten oddly fond of the little blue flowers. “It was always you, muffinhead. Is that okay?”
Even though he asks, he trusts Skeppy. He knows, without a doubt, whether or not Skeppy feels the same they’ll always be friends. Things would certainly be different either way. But for all the teasing and trolls, Skeppy would never break Bad’s heart.
Skeppy’s face burned red, and he said quite softly, “Oh. Oh. ...I love you too.”
No flower was quite as pretty as his smile. No flower was quite as sweet as his kiss. No flower could ever replace his Skeppy.