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The moment Sada straddled him, Mamiya felt bile rising in his throat. He was about to vomit— out of disgust, surely.
Sada was naked from the waist down, hovering over him. His pale blue pajama shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the scars on his upper chest and the flat plane of his stomach. Sada's eyes were closed. He leaned forward, maybe subconsciously, fully enveloping Mamiya as he did. His nose pressed against the top of Mamiya's head. His right hand jerked frantically between his legs.
Mamiya was frozen, silent. His face was heated and his heart joined the bile in his throat.
Sada's arm caged Mamiya's head, and his cheek was pressed against his ear. He swore Sada was smelling him— inhaling and exhaling deeply between the soft grunts of pleasure.
What a pervert, Mamiya thought. Sada was so depraved. He was—
Mamiya glanced up, hands curled against his chest. Sada's face was marred with the pink, cross-shaped scar that marked his previous death. He was handsome, same as he had been ten years ago. Mamiya grimaced, feeling something in his chest constrict.
Sada's face was screwed up in pleasure, his mouth parted. Mamiya could feel his breath against his skin— disgusting. But seeing him so far gone made Mamiya wonder who he was picturing while he did it. The senpai he had a crush on in high school? One of his past lovers? Not Mamiya, surely. Even if Sada's pale gaze had been boring into him as he started— "I'm doing this for you", Sada had said. For a moment, Mamiya was convinced that he was.
Sada rocked on top of him, cradling his head but not touching him further, as promised. But he was close, his faced buried in what was left of Mamiya's hair. Mamiya could hear every curse muttered under his breath, could feel every thrust of his hips.
It scared him. But not as much as he expected. Being face to face with Sada— able to push him off if he had to— made it different. Well, there was that, and the fact that Sada had promised not to touch him.
Mamiya hadn't told him what Nakahashiki had done, or what Oota had done either, not in detail. But somehow he understood.
And now he was panting into Mamiya's ear, the horrible wet squelching of his hand on his dick growing louder in the otherwise silent room.
Mamiya's body tensed, and he was suddenly painfully aware of his lower half. He pulled his knees up, trying to hide, or get smaller, or do anything to conceal himself. It didn't matter, since Sada's eyes were closed and he was focused on something else. But his breath was getting faster, and Mamiya could only watch, wide-eyed and trembling, as Sada reached his climax.
Sada moaned behind his teeth. His face was contorted, almost as if in pain, but his expression quickly faded into one of relief. His chest rose and fell, pushing his slower heartbeat against Mamiya's chest, again and again.
Sada pulled back almost immediately after he finished. "Oh shit— I tried to catch it, but I got some on you," he frowned.
Mamiya stared up at him, unable to summon any anger, even though he knew he should. He had been disgusted by the thought of other people's bodily fluid, had refused to stay the night in a love hotel even if they had remained entirely innocent during the experience. But it really was different, with Sada. When it was his own volition— touching Sada with gloves on, or… whatever this was.
Mamiya kept his legs close together, and Sada took notice. "Did you come?" He asked.
"No! Of course not," Mamiya spat, so appalled by the thought that he violently propelled himself off the side of the bed.
"Mamiya…" Sada looked down at him, seemingly unsure as to whether he should help him up.
Mamiya shook his head and got himself upright. "I need to… go to bed," Mamiya said. Ignoring the uncomfortable wetness in his pants along with the bile rising in his throat— it had lingered there long enough.
"So… you came?" Sada asked, tilting his head at Mamiya inquisitively.
Mamiya could no longer hold back a cough, covering his mouth with his hand. He felt something wet fall into it, and fought his instinct to grimace, closing his fingers around whatever it was and holding it in his palm. "I did not. Pervert— I just need to, uh. Do something. Really quick, I'll be back."
Once Mamiya was in the safety of his own room, he opened his hand. In the middle of his palm was a flower petal— ovular, and a soft pink. While Mamiya was more familiar with animal and human anatomy, he could tell at a glance it was from a tulip.
He hadn't, to his knowledge, eaten any flowers. He didn't care for them himself, but his aunt's property had a decent garden, which he spent minimal effort up-keeping. Sada was the one who had started tending to the bushes and flowerbeds, to prevent them from getting overgrown. Mamiya had watched, once, while sipping his coffee, the way Sada would brush a thumb over yellowing leaves and open his mouth to say something as he sprayed the plants with a hose. He spoke to them like they were old friends, and it made Mamiya wonder if Sada was lonely, being stuck with just him and the monkey.
At that thought, Mamiya felt a tickle in his chest, along with the sting of bile in the back of his throat. He rushed over to the en suite bathroom and hunched over the toilet. After a wet cough over the bowl, he saw through stinging eyes dozens of flower petals stuck together amid a mixture of mucus and blood. It gave off a horrid stench, a mixture of floral sweetness and heady iron. He gagged, feeling something larger, something worse, attempt to burst forth from his mouth. He retched, a shiver going down his spine as floral matter scraped against his tongue.
The entire head of a flower landed in the red and pink refuse floating in the toilet water. It confirmed for him— these were tulips. The probability of a plant sprouting in a human body was low, but not impossible. But considering tulips grew from bulbs, Mamiya was sure he would have known if he'd ingested such a thing. It was impossible, but he had once been told resurrection was impossible, and that hadn't stopped him.
Mamiya wished he could dissect himself. He didn't much like the idea of harboring some parasitic plant, and if he could wedge his hands between his ribs and pull it out, maybe he'd be able to figure out how it got there in the first place.
He could ask Sada. He wouldn't have the expertise to perform surgery, but if Mamiya could talk him through it— Granted, the longer Mamiya thought about it, the more he didn't want to involve Sada at all. Whatever this was would surely pass. If not, there had to be something at the lab he could trace it back to.
He shook his head, pushing himself to his feet with shaking arms. It was only when he stood at the sink brushing the blood out of his teeth that he realized he still hadn't taken care of his lower body problem.
When Mamiya returned, Sada was reclined on his side, leaning on an elbow and resting his cheek in his hand. He had the blankets pulled back, and he patted the empty side of the bed, an invitation.
"That took a while," Sada remarked "Enjoy yourself?" He smiled up at Mamiya, looking innocent despite what he was implying.
"I did no such thing," Mamiya scoffed. He climbed into the bed, tensing slightly when Sada's arms wrapped around his shoulders and pulled him closer.
"Are you okay?" Sada asked, his eyelids beginning to droop. "It wasn't… too much for you?"
"I'm fine," Mamiya insisted, though he knew that wasn't the truth. He looked up at Sada's sleepy eyes and his furrowed brow. He wondered for a moment, if Sada had heard him retching-- if Sada thought it was because of something he did. He didn't know how he would explain it, or what Sada would do if he knew what was really going on. "Don't you dare pity me," he said.
"I'm not," Sada said. "Just know, I like kissing and cuddling more than I like sex." He craned his neck, pressed a soft kiss on the crown of Mamiya's head, where his hair was thinning. "So, it's alright if it was too much."
"I find that hard to believe," Mamiya huffed. His heart thudded in his chest while Sada held him. "But it's fine."
"Mm," Sada hummed, his eyes fully closed now. Mamiya seemed to have kept him so long he was just waiting for him to get back in order to sleep.
He was the one who had almost kissed Sada, when he had decreed they would have sex— when he was the one doing the touching, stroking Sada off, feeling the weight of him in his hand. Sada had been blindfolded, and Mamiya had leaned over him, their lips so close. But he hadn't been able to do it.
He had felt his chest constrict then, too, and wondered just how long that flower had been growing there. Had the tulip bulb just laid dormant inside him, and then, for some reason, decided this was the time to bloom?
It was ridiculous. Something out of the fantasy novels he never read.
Determined not to think about it anymore, Mamiya shook off Sada's embrace to take his glasses off and set them on the bedside table. When he rolled back over, the two of them were both safely sequestered on either side of the bed. Sada's sleeping face caused another squeezing ache in his chest. He put the blame on that ache, and leaned over to kiss Sada goodnight.
They agreed the next morning to sleep together again. Not in that way, but just in general. Though Mamiya left the option open— he didn't mind Sada using him to get off, as long as he was left untouched.
They fell into mundane routine: Sada would choose the next person they would turn to feed, usually a criminal or other moral degenerate. Whatever made their flesh go down easier for Sada.
They captured them, butchered them, froze them. Together, now, instead of just Mamiya doing it. It was a surreal, almost comforting feeling for them to work together, as much as Mamiya knew Sada had been reluctant. But each day, usually in the late morning, they would eat together.
This time Sada made a western dish— spaghetti Bolognese. It had taken nearly all day to simmer the sauce, which Mamiya found annoying. His standpoint when it came to cooking was that it provided basic nutrients. He didn't have the time to fret over taste. It was a Sunday, so he didn't have to work, but he'd been typing up some of the results from recent blood samples he'd taken from Sada. Every now and then, he'd glance up from his spot at the kitchen table and watch Sada's back as he stirred the pot, then glance away when Sada would return to sit across from him, picking up the new novel he had started reading.
Mamiya stared intently at his laptop screen, ignoring his spreadsheet in favor of idle daydreaming. He wondered if this was what marriage is like. Not that he'd ever want that, but he'd never imagined himself living with another human soul in his life. It was easier and more sensible to be alone. But he didn't mind this. He didn't mind the other person being Sada.
He coughed loudly, covering his mouth with his arm.
Sada glanced over his book. "You alright?" He asked.
"Fine," Mamiya croaked, brushing the tulip petals from his shirtsleeve. He crushed them in his palm and let them fall to the floor, swiping them to the side with his feet.
They return to comfortable silence, though now there was an itch in Mamiya's throat. Sada got up to check the Bolognese once more, then returned. He read for a few minutes before he spread his book open and sat it on the table with the pages down.
"Mamiya," Sada began. "Have you ever heard of the language of flowers?"
Mamiya swallowed thickly. "No."
"It was something made up in Victorian England, I guess. As a way of communicating through bouquets." Sada flipped a page in his book. "Or, like hanakotoba," he says. "The killer in the book I'm reading uses flowers like a code, based off the Victorian meanings. It's interesting."
"Hm," Mamiya hummed, trying to feign disinterest. The bizarre, parasitic plant in his chest likely didn't adhere to human social constructs, but he couldn't help his fingers from typing out 'language of flowers' into his browser search bar.
He opened a few search results, skipping to the 'T' section. 'Tulips: Fame; Red: Love; Variegated: beautiful eyes; Yellow: hopeless love.' No definitions for pink. He scoffed to himself. He knew it would mean nothing.
In the weeks since he'd had the first attack, he began to notice that the bile in his throat would rise when he thought about Sada. He had assumed his vomiting was induced by disgust, when they had been having their pseudo-sex. But he felt tulip heads rise violently watching Sada in the garden, or even at work, while simply wondering what Sada might have made for dinner.
It had happened often enough that it couldn't be coincidental. The flower stems constricting his chest had something to do with Sada.
He knew that his feelings for Sada were outside the realm of usual friendship. If he tried to condense it into one word, he might use 'affection'. He had even considered 'love'. And it seemed, according to his dubious internet search, tulips represented some kind of 'love'.
"Mamiya?"
Sada's voice broke through his concentration.
"The Bolognese is ready," he said, which prompted Mamiya to shoot up from his chair to fetch Sada's meat from the refrigerator.
He blended the thawed flesh as Sada served his simmered sauce over boiled pasta. They both brought their dishes to the table, passing them off to each other, as usual.
Mamiya glanced sheepishly at Sada while he ate. Sada didn't notice— he was still engrossed in his reading, sipping at his bloody beverage like a cup of coffee. It was a relief, really— he had been so put off by it to begin with, but now he consumed fellow humans without a second glance. Mamiya could admit that he felt bad about the fact that he had forced Sada into a life like that, living off the remains of his same species.
It made him wonder, if he had a choice, would Sada have stayed dead? Well, he didn't, and it's not like they can take back what they've done now. But Mamiya didn't want Sada to die.
No, he wanted to live like this, sitting across from him at the kitchen table, the two of them the only people in the world. Mamiya never wanted to get married, but he thought ideally it would be similar to this— a peaceful coexistence, comfortable domesticity. Having someone to come home to, someone to prepare food for, someone to eat with.
But Mamiya knew it would be different if it weren't Sada. Sada was the only one he'd want this with, and the realization made the bite of pasta in his mouth go down his throat like a stone. He'd never imagined living like this, but now that he was, it was impossible to think of being without Sada.
Feeling the food he just ate start to rise in his throat, Mamiya covered his mouth with his flimsy paper napkin, and turned away from the table. Unable to stop himself, he coughed up Sada's cooking along with mangled, wet globs of tulip petals. The pink is still there, though he spots a few pale yellow ones, and the words from the books he'd seen scans of echo in his mind: hopeless love.
"Mamiya? Are you alright?" Sada's chair squeaked across the kitchen floor as he got up, looming over the table to try to help.
"Fine, I'm fine," Mamiya croaked, trying to clean up his mess before Sada could see.
"Was my cooking that bad?" Sada joked, but his tone still twisted with concern. "It was decent when I tried a little."
"It's good," Mamiya scooped his refuse into his hands, trying his best not to hurl again just at the feeling of holding it without gloves on. He rushed it to the bin under the sink, deliberately holding it out of Sada's reach. He couldn't see it, couldn't know. "It was good, it's not you. I think I just—" Mamiya dumped the vomit in the trash, and was sticking his hands under the faucet when he felt Sada sidle up behind him and press the palm of his hand against his forehead.
"Are you getting sick? You do feel slightly feverish. I think. You know my body temperature is lower than average."
Sada's touch made Mamiya's stomach roil. He heaved over the sink, more flower petals falling from his lips, bitter with an iron tinge, crowding into the drain. He braced himself on the edge of the sink, tried to use his body to block Sada's sight. But he didn't know if he could hide it now— Sada was taller than him.
"Mamiya." Sada's voice was stern and almost… sad. "If I knew you were sick, I wouldn't have made something so rich. You should head back to bed."
Mamiya's cough ripped through his chest and made him groan as he felt his eyes begin to water. "No, no I wanted to- I wanted to eat it," he used to not care about taste, lived off of convenience store ready-made food and beer. But Sada made it for him. Sada.
The floral vines in his chest squeezed around his ribs and twisted, the pain making him grit his teeth. "You need to get out of here," Mamiya said, attempting to clear his throat and failing. He doubled over in front of the sink, brought to his knees.
"Huh?" Sada stepped back.
"Go away. Back to your room, out in the garden, I don't care just—" Leave me alone, he was about to say.
"Mamiya, you're sick," Sada said. "I know you like to think you're invincible, but I think your junk-eating workaholic lifestyle is coming back to bite you." Mamiya couldn't object, even though he knew it wasn't that. He managed to get back to his feet, just in time for Sada to step back up behind him and wrap his arms around his waist.
"Stop it, what are you doing?" Mamiya objected, his hoarse throat making his voice crack.
"Shh, come on," Sada said, keeping his hold on Mamiya as he turned him around, shuffled him down the hall and up the stairs, into his bedroom.
"Sada-kun, I have work that I was doing," he protested. Sada nearly pushed him onto the bed, pulled back the covers and man-handled him until he was tucked in. "You could've at least let me brush my teeth, it tastes—" Mamiya grimaced, flinching when Sada gets close to remove his glasses.
"Sorry, it's for your own good," Sada said, sitting on the side of the bed. Mamiya's vision was slightly blurry, but Sada was close enough that he could see him smile. Sada placed a hand atop his head, caressed Mamiya's receding hairline with his thumb. "You rest, and I'll make you something else to eat, see if you can stomach it."
"It's not the food," Mamiya insisted. "I wanted…" He trailed off, both frustrated and bewildered when Sada leaned down, and kissed his temple. It made his heart feel like it was being squeezed so hard it would pop, and he broke into another coughing fit.
Sada pulled back to give him space. "Let me get you some water," he said, before his weight on the bed disappeared and Mamiya was left with another fistful of flower petals.
He forced himself to lay there, chest heaving, and listen to Sada move about the house. He caught the thump of his feet on the stairs, a cabinet opening, the tinkling of glass, the faucet running.
Mamiya ran his tongue over his teeth. It tasted like blood, bile, and tomato sauce. He thought about what Sada's done for him— his cooking, the way he brought him upstairs, offered to make something else, rubbed and kissed Mamiya's head like it… like he was something worth cherishing. He treated Mamiya the way he did simply because that was just the way he was— kind. Not for any other reason. Sada didn't love him.
But Mamiya thought it was impossible not to fall for him. Both when they were in school, and now. He wouldn't have thought himself 'in love' with anyone else in the world, except for Sada.
Sada returned within a few minutes and placed a tray on Mamiya's bedside table. It had a glass of water, along with a small plate of plain rice crackers. "Forget about work for today, alright?" Sada gave Mamiya a lopsided smile.
Mamiya pulled the duvet up to chin. "Fine," his voice muffled by the sheets covering his mouth and nose. Being taken care of like this was so foreign to him, yet it made the pit of his stomach curl with warmth, and unfortunately another coughing fit crawled its way up his trachea.
Sada gently patted his arm over the covers, and Mamiya didn't have the strength to object.
Mamiya panicked when Sada told him he was seen. Fuck, they had been careless, stopping at the 24hr supermarket with a body in the back of the van. He shouldn't have listened, no matter how insistent Sada was that they needed soy sauce.
He was grateful for his aunt's inheritance, since it allowed him a hefty sum to draw from for emergencies. He rented a small house in the countryside— just one room, more like a shed than a house, surrounded by rice paddies. They cleared his aunt's house of all evidence— he gathered all his research files, incinerated what was left of all the bodies, sent the rest of Sada's meat supply out with him. And once he was sure Sada is settled, he returned to the apartment he'd barely set foot in for nearly a year— he only kept it around as a formality.
There was a layer of dust on the table, the floor, and window sills. He opened the fridge and found an excessively moldy convenience store bento. He tossed it out only to replace it with nearly the same exact item.
He lugged his futon out of the closest and unfurled it onto the tatami. He laid alone, still in his work clothes, then sat up, opened his laptop, and worked some more until his eyes felt dry. He changed into his pajamas, got back in bed, and thought about Sada.
Sada was probably also lying alone, right now. Was he thinking of Mamiya like Mamiya was thinking of him? Mamiya didn't think so. The tulip flowers had gotten more aggressive, whole heads of them tearing from his throat when an attack came on.
No, Sada had probably been reading a book until the sun went down, and was probably about to feed Monkichi before bed. That dumb monkey. He was so attached to it. The thought made Mamiya scoff, but before he could even process it, he was doubled over the side of the futon, hacking up more tulips.
The parasite had begun to make him more fatigued, which, on top of moving Sada out of town and pouring over his research for a solution, didn't help. He felt that by now, the plant had curled itself around his ribcage, forced itself into his lungs. If he let it go on any longer, it might kill him. But he didn't know how to control it, and he knew that had to be the first step to finding out how to eliminate it. And regardless, the more pressing matter was Sada— His feelings for the man were driving his research, pushing him further than he had ever gone before. If he could perfect the drug he had used to revive him, then purposefully infect individuals, he could slowly spread Sada's condition throughout the country, making his need to feed on humans absolutely normal.
If he could do that, everything would be worth it. The pain and the ridicule, the flower growing inside him— it would be nothing, if he could continue to live next to Sada, in a world where he could be free.
It made him feel silly. And made him start to understand what it meant to be lovesick.
The distance made the plant in his chest more aggressive, like it was trying to break free from his body, climb up his throat and out his mouth. It was suffocating and made it difficult to focus, so he took a few days off work and showed up at Sada's unannounced.
"I thought you were coming for the weekend?" Sada asked. "It's Thursday."
"Yes," Mamiya replied, "I got time off work. I'm anxious about you getting spotted."
"Yeah?" Sada looked him over. Mamiya knew his flush betrayed him. "Were you lonely?"
"N—" Mamiya's gut reaction was to object, but when he looked up at Sada, the other's eyes were warm. Just one look was enough to break down his defenses. "Yes. Sada-kun, I can't bear to be away from you sometimes," with that admission, though, he had to look away. "I can't sleep— I just stay up, wondering if you're thinking about me like I'm thinking about you. I've never cared so much what other people thought of me, before you. I think you… you deserve to be loved," Mamiya said, a first curling on his knee in conviction. "Even a guy like me could fall for you."
When he glanced over at Sada again, the man's eyes were wide and a smile pulled on his lips. The back of his hand is glued to his mouth.
"What, do you think I'm incapable of love?" Mamiya asked.
"No, no, that's not it," Sada said. "I'm just surprised. I've never been confessed to with such passion. You really like me, huh?"
Mamiya felt the tell-tale tightness around his heart, but he'd be stupid to deny it, now. "Yes."
"Wow, um," Sada blinked at him, somehow unsure of how to respond.
Mamiya prickled defensively. "Don't get a big head over it. You're just my favorite experiment, alright, it's not like I like you as a person."
"Isn't that exactly the opposite of what you just said, though?" Sada grinned.
"I take it back," Mamiya shot up off his chair, almost threatening to storm out. Sada's hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled him back.
"Mamiya, can I… can I kiss you?"
Mamiya glanced down at Sada, all his nerves alight. He let his facade fall away and turned back to Sada. "Yes."
He only realized how shaky he was when he let Sada take his other hand, and hold him there, stabilizing him. Mamiya stepped closer, and then Sada's arm wrapped around back. He had wanted this, ever since they'd slept together the first time. No, it was likely for even longer. He just hadn't realized it until that damn tulip had bloomed.
He closed his eyes, leaned forward, and brushed his lips against Sada's. They were cool and chapped and Mamiya was sure his mustache was getting in the way. But Sada pressed his lips hard into Mamiya's, swiped his tongue against the seam of his lips.
Ew, gross, no— was Mamiya's initial thought. But when he let Sada into his mouth, it wasn't bad. He knew that proper kissing would involve tongue— he'd looked it up before, curious. And while it was an odd sensation to get used to, with Sada, it was… nice.
Soon, Sada had pulled him to the bed, and they were kissing even harder than before. Mamiya situated himself on top of Sada, let himself be kissed again and again, barely objecting when Sada's hands found his hips. He slotted them together, pressed Mamiya against him with enough force that Mamiya could feel Sada's erection through their clothing, but not enough force to scare him.
Sada always asked if things he did were okay, and if he didn't ask, he was always looking for signs if they were not. He could be considerate to a fault, but Mamiya loved that about him. He was the only person in the world Mamiya felt safe with, the only one—
"Sada-kun," Mamiya breathed his name, pressed their foreheads against each other. He had his eyes firmly closed, finding it hard to look directly at the man beneath him ever since he'd seen Sada come because of him. Sada stopped him from kissing him again with a thumb against the side of his mouth, and paused to slide his glasses off his face. The moment they were placed onto the small side table, Sada tilted his head up and met Mamiya's lips again.
Before long, Mamiya can feel Sada's hardness against his leg, and was unfortunately hyper-aware of his own arousal. Sada ground against him, an insatiable fiend. But Mamiya didn't mind it. He had enough clothes with him for three nights and then some. And the sounds Sada was making into his mouth made his head spin.
Mamiya could admit to himself that kissing Sada felt good. It was scary but it felt good, and Sada was…
It had been almost a year since Mamiya brought him back, and in the months they spent together, he'd become everything.
Mamiya gritted his teeth, refused to let any sounds escape his mouth. Sada's fingers caressed his lower back, over his shirt.
"So cute," Sada chuckled— Mamiya could feel it in his chest. "It's okay," he said, low and sweet and directly in Mamiya's ear.
"I'm not, it's—" He gasped, curled his fingers into Sada's shirt, buried his face in his neck. His entire body trembled as he climaxed, and he mumbled into Sada's collarbone as it coursed through him.
He closed his eyes, grimaced at the sticky wetness in his underwear. He wanted to get up to change, but Sada hadn't had his turn yet.
Mamiya panted against his neck, dared to slip a hand under Sada's waistband.
"You don't have to," Sada's hand wrapped around his wrist.
"Shut up," Mamiya shook his hand off. "Be grateful I'm doing it for you, this time."
"Thanks, then."
Mamiya forced himself to look. It was not being able to see, not being in control, that always frightened him the most.
Pressed against Sada, he tilted his chin and watched as he eased Sada's cock out. It was warm, slick in Mamiya's palm. The head was red. Mamiya found it objectively unappealing— holding someone's engorged, dripping genitals didn't usually sound like a good time. But because it was Sada… He sort of understood why Sada would have sex with other men. Doing this to Sada, being the one to cause this reaction, as well as give him relief— he had the power over him. When sex acts were mutual, he could understand the appeal. And when it was with Sada, who knew his limits, he liked it.
He rubbed his thumb over the head of Sada's dick, watched little beads of fluid drip out from the slit. He was mesmerized, feeling like somehow, swapping spit with Sada altered his brain chemistry.
Sada's arms were hooked under his armpits, and the harder Mamiya stroked, the closer Sada held him. He felt Sada's nose pressed into his hair, could feel him breathing on his head. It made him shudder, though he wasn't sure if it was in pleasure or disgust— it made him feel itchy. Ticklish?
"Mamiya," Sada breathed, "Shit, I'm close—"
Mamiya felt a swell of pride in his chest. He jerked his hand harder, faster, until Sada spilled over with an almost pained groan. He was squeezing Mamiya so tight he might snap him in half.
Mamiya spread his fingers, watching the viscous white fluid refuse to break away from itself, held together by the finest strings. He really needed to go wash his hands, but Sada didn't loosen his grip.
"Sada-kun," he said, shimmying apart just enough that they could see each other. He held his soiled hand up above him, desperate to not stain anything with it. When Sada's eyes met his, they were glazed over with his recent orgasm. But he smiled, and all of a sudden, Mamiya's chest constricted again. No, not now, he thought. Not in front of him, not when he's looking at me like that— He turned away and over the side of the bed and retched the contents of his stomach onto the floor. His throat was achingly raw as he counted the flower petals piling up.
"Mamiya?" Sada immediately bolted up, shocked out of his hazy state by Mamiya's sudden, violent sickness. "Are you okay? What—"
Mamiya couldn't turn to face him. He could feel the next round rising in his throat. He didn't get a chance to say anything before he retched again. He had tried to hide it, but now, doubled over with soiled pants and a sticky hand, he didn't have the strength to even try. Sada placed a hand on his back, rubbing softly.
"Are those… flower petals?" Sada asked. "What's going on?"
Mamiya chook his head. "It's nothing, it's nothing—"
"It's not nothing, Mamiya, you're…" Sada trailed off, forcing himself up behind Mamiya. "Let's get you to the bathroom, okay?"
He held onto Mamiya's arms to steady him and helped him to his feet. For the first time, Mamiya let himself lean on Sada, shoulder to shoulder. The euphoric feeling he had after making Sada come had been replaced with a horrible, nauseous throbbing in his head.
He sat on the edge of the bathtub as Sada took a cloth and scrubbed his hand, then his mouth and his neck, where blood and bile had dripped down onto his pajamas.
"I'll… I'll let you take your clothes off, okay?" Sada said, ducking out of the room to give Mamiya privacy.
Mamiya's hand shook while he unbuttoned his shirt. He slid his bottoms off and stared up at the ceiling while he wiped away his own semen. The itch in his throat lingered, along with the taste of iron, but nothing threatened to come up. He swallowed thickly, then robotically dressed himself in dry, clean pajamas.
When he returned to the main room, Sada was cleaning up his mess. He's plucked a tulip petal between his fingers, and is looking at it with a frown on his face.
They both don't say anything for a while. Sada didn't ask why there was flower petals in his vomit, didn't ask when it started.
When the silence got unbearable, Mamiya broke it. "I don't know what it is. But this isn't… the kind of illness you can just take to a doctor, can you? I was hoping it would just go away."
"Mamiya…"
"Considering the amount of blood I lose each attack, I'm sure it'll kill me eventually." He stared at Sada, and the stark, cross-shaped scar across his face. "But who's to say how long it'll take? I could be hit by a car before that, or murdered in the street. And I always have a vial of the mold on me to inject myself with in that case."
He'd told himself in the past that if he had to be his own last resort when it came to his aunt's research, then so be it. But Sada had come along, and he didn't have to be.
"You…" Sada frowns. "You don't want to find a cure? Isn't that the most logical solution?"
"I don't have time to find a cure for myself when I've got you to worry about," Mamiya scoffed. "Can't even sleep at night, knowing someone might find you, and then there's the fact that you're sleeping longer than you should, it's…"
He hadn't meant to mention it, but Sada's condition had started to weigh on him. He promised Sada he'd make a new world where he could live freely, but if Sada never got to see it… what was the point?
Somewhere along the line, his obsession with finding the secret to reanimation had transformed into something a little different— a new obsession, this time with a person who hadn't left his mind in a decade.
Getting rid of the tulip might be the most logical thing, but Mamiya was finding he didn't care.
"Mamiya—" Sada started, looking at him with his mouth open like he was leaving something left unsaid. But he shut it quickly, thinking better of it.
"I'm fine," Mamiya snapped. "This is why I didn't want you to find out…" He muttered under his breath.
Sada frowned. "If something were to happen to me, all I'd want is for you to live well, so don't— don't let something like this take you out." He tentatively placed a hand on Mamiya's thigh.
"I'm stronger than that," Mamiya curled his fingers into the bedding. He was stronger than all the people who had hurt him.
"Yeah," Sada said, brushing his shoulder against Mamiya's. "Let's get some sleep."
Mamiya didn't expect anything from Sada after that. He put his all into his research, spent his off days with Sada in that little shed, envisioning a future he was unsure he'd live to see, no matter how determined. But then the monkey died.
From how Sada described it, it happened the same as the other experiments—they got sluggish, slept longer than usual, until they never opened their eyes again. The monkey was his most successful specimen before Sada, and its death added to his panic.
He moved Sada back to his aunt's place, spending most days manically searching for anything among what was left of her research that could lead to why the injected mold stopped working. As long as it was fed, it should ideally keep the specimen alive, so why—?
He spent the rest of his time fighting off coughing fits, trying to keep himself running while he grew thinner and thinner. He didn't take a break until Sada forced him to bed.
And when he woke, dazed and confused, he found Sada sitting by the window, and somehow he knew this was the end. He sat next to him, and Sada took his hand.
"Mamiya, I want you to live well. Interact with people— you don't have to like them, but get along. Get rid of all the evidence, all your research— live a normal life."
Sada gave his hand a squeeze, and Mamiya felt his heart ache along with it. He broke into a coughing fit, and begged the stupid fucking flower curled around his ribs to give him this— Sada's last moment.
"I'll find a way to bring you back again," Mamiya said. "You'll open your eyes again. Maybe a few years will have passed, but I promise—" His voice cracked, making him give up on the second half of his sentence, even though he wasn't sure what he would've promised anyway.
Sada smiled at him, and Mamiya was sure he didn't believe him for a second. "If anyone could do it, you could. You're a genius, after all." The lids of his eyes drooped lower with every sentence he spoke. He wasn't going to last long. This was the end, it really was— "Mamiya. Do you wanna kiss me?"
"Yes," Mamiya said, dread in the pit of his stomach. "I do," He leaned forward and kissed him, soft and fleeting. Sada's lips were already growing cold. "Sada-kun," Mamiya didn't want to believe this would be their last kiss, so he chased Sada's mouth for another one, ignoring the sharp pang in his chest. "I like you." He kissed him again. "I love you."
"Mm," Sada hummed, because he knew. Mamiya knew he knew. But for a moment after he said it, it feels like he can breathe again.
He kissed Sada one more time, starting to feel desperate. "I love you," he said again. He really never thought of himself as the type of person who could fall in love. He hadn't meant to— but Sada had never left his mind, even after years apart. Mamiya was institutionalized for his last year of high school, then went on to university keeping mostly to himself. He was only able to keep his lab job because of his father— something he was already ashamed about. Once he was back in his hometown and realized Sada was, too, he couldn't get him off his mind. It was worse when he stabbed him with a needle, pulled him into his van and tied him to his examination table. He was left with an unconscious, mostly dead Sada, who he stared at with a careful, hopeful gaze. Because if he didn't act urgently, Sada would be gone for good.
But this time, the urgency didn't hit immediately.
"I love you," Mamiya said, one more time, before Sada closed his eyes. His head fell limp. "Sada?" Mamiya asked, like he didn't know what was happening. And then all of Sada's weight was against him. He pushed him off, watched him fall back against the windowsill.
Sada was dead.
Mamiya thought he could freeze him. But there was no way he'd be able to, unless he could find a way to transport him to a walk-in freezer somewhere without suspicion. And while the mold could heal wounds, he couldn't imagine it could put Sada back together if he chopped him apart for easier storage.
Mamiya kept him in the shed, and stayed by his side, despite the knowledge of his imminent decay. He couldn't bear to watch, but also couldn't bear to leave him. He had fallen asleep in his chair accidentally when he woke to something unusual.
Poking between Sada's lips was a dandelion.
A bright yellow circle that crawled up his throat and tangled itself between his teeth.
Mamiya almost sobbed at the sight. He couldn't believe it. There was a flower blooming in Sada, too. He hadn't been sick, hadn't coughed up flower petals or grimaced with chest pains. But the flower had taken root inside him all the same, and was claiming his body for itself.
"You, too?" Mamiya said, to nobody in particular. "Then why… why didn't you tell me?"
When Sada had found out about Mamiya's tulip affliction, he hadn't asked what it was or how it got there. Only: "You don't want to find a cure?" He hadn't needed to ask what it was, because he knew.
"Did it hurt when you thought of me, too?" Mamiya asked, a gloved hand pressing a thumb to Sada's lips, pulling them apart, searching for the root of the plant. "Or… was your love not for me?"
Mamiya didn't know why he asked when he'd never get an answer. But he recalled what Sada had said when they spoke about his past relationships, about how he much preferred friendship over romance. How Mamiya had then asked him to have sex, since they were 'friends'.
Mamiya was aware that his own love was romantic. It was all-consuming. Obsessive.
He wanted Sada to himself and had had him— Sada was all but dependent on Mamiya to survive. Mamiya had been so concerned with what Sada thought of him that he concealed his true identity and intentions until he had no choice.
But from what it seemed, Sada valued him most as a friend. His kind smiles, his attempts to compromise on their choice of victims, his offers for kisses— while maybe odd to any outsider, felt like actions of a friend. Or as close to a friendship the two of them could have.
Mamiya thought he had understood Sada's feelings. They worked together well. They had a mutual understanding. But the parasites that had taken over their bodies— were they proof the two of them were doomed from the start?
Mamiya brushed his thumb under Sada's lip and wished he could speak. And he wished he could tell Sada, one more time, how much he loved him. "But you knew," Mamiya said to himself.
Mamiya watched as the dandelion took over Sada's body— the plant's little yellow heads popped violently out of every orifice, and then its stalks bore tunnels through his flesh. He was becoming some grotesque undead garden and Mamiya could do nothing to stop it.
He didn't know if it would've been better or worse if Sada had simply stopped moving and rotted like a normal corpse.
Despite the initial relief he felt after telling Sada he loved him, the tulip that grew around his ribcage continued to bloom. The number of full tulip heads that passed from his lips increased day by day.
He brought Sada out to the garden on a sunny afternoon. The dandelions sprouting from his body had started to seed, and their puffy white heads swayed in the breeze, portions of them flying away in clumps.
Mamiya squinted at the sky, his eyes bloodshot and aching. He filled up his syringe, took a deep breath as he injected it into his arm, and took Sada's rigid hand.