Platonic hanahaki is a thing, and if it isn't I'm making it a thing. Also I swear I posted this but it was just an empty draft, let me know if Wattpad glitched and y'all have already read this.

TW: Blood, mentions of death, swearing

-

"You betrayed me, Tommy," Techno's voice rang out in the cold darkness, his uncaring face appearing before him. "Nothing you can do can bring you my forgiveness."

"A disappointment of a son, truly," Phil chimed in, his green and white bucket hat peeking through the shadow of the void.

"Please, I'm sorry," Tommy choked, falling back and barely catching himself with his hands, scooting along the dark floor with his heels. "I just- I just want to see you again. Please, I'll do anything!"

"I'm barely able to stomach looking at your face right now, and this isn't even real," Techno sneered.

"I- It's not?"

"Pathetic that you can't even defend yourself in a dream," Phil tsked sadly, face falling back into the darkness. Techno's followed, with one last cold glare.

Tommy woke up with a gasp but realized he couldn't get a breath in. He tried to get in the smallest bit of air, but something completely blocked his throat.

The panic began to set in.

Blood rushed to his head, darkness crept up into the edges of his vision...

This was it. He was going to die. He was going to suffocate in his bed, and no one would find his body for weeks.

The darkness came closer and closer.

His head was starting to feel fuzzy...

And then it was over. He could breathe, he could see. It was okay.

He gulped the cool air, relishing in how it soothed his throat. He was left with a bad headache and a warm feeling on his lower lip.

Tommy wiped it with his fingers and when he pulled them away, they were wet with blood.

-

Tommy often had nightmares like this, ones where he was haunted by the faces of people he had let down. Mostly it was Phil and Techno, and sometimes Tubbo. Once in a while (and this one hurt the most) even Wilbur, who he still had on his side.

That's right. He still had Wilbur. His brother had stayed with him, he hadn't abandoned him like the others. Wilbur loved him, but sometimes he fought against himself to believe that.

-

"Wil, please, give me five minutes. I just- I need to catch my breath," The boy heaved, dropping his cobblestone on the floor. "You'll work 'till it's lunchtime," The man said uncaringly, almost absently, looking through papers lined with words that didn't matter. "If you pass out, I'm not going to drag you into the shade."

Tommy chuckled lightly, trying to pretend that he didn't know Wilbur wasn't joking.

Wilbur was stressed right now. That's right, he was stressed. He had been revived to have only Tommy on his side, only Tommy. Tommy was the only one who stuck by him, and Wilbur cherished him for that. He'd told him so.

Wilbur was just stressed.

Still, Tommy couldn't stop the ache in his chest at his brother's cold words, only making his burning lungs hurt more.

–

The first time he coughed up a petal was after another nightmare. He'd woken up with blood on his lip, again. And just like last time, he'd tried to ignore it, but a tickle persisted in his throat as he stared at the blood, and soon he was coughing up more. And along with it, a single, waxy petal.

He didn't need a nature pocketbook to know that the petal was from a daisy, and it saddened him to see the pretty white petal soiled by blood.

–

"Wilbur! Look what I built!" Tommy grabbed his brother's hand excitedly, like a kid eager to show their parents a macaroni portrait.

"Not now, Tommy," The man hissed, snatching his hand away. Tommy, of course, never took no for an answer, even if he was fully aware he was annoying someone. In fact, that made it all the more fun.

So he kept pulling, even threw in a whine here and there and eventually, Wilbur relented. With a heavy sigh, he followed Tommy to where he had been working in the woods on his own special project.

"Look! It's a pen for another Henry!" He looked at Wilbur's face, half expecting him to shake his head with a small smile like he would have done when they were younger and the other half expecting the man to get pissed off and start lecturing Tommy about saving these things for the right time.

Instead, the man rolled his eyes, walked away, and while looking at the communicator in his hands, called back, "What the fuck is Henry?"

Oh.

Wilbur didn't remember. He didn't remember when Tommy was younger, playing on their farm. Didn't remember welcoming a young calf one spring, who had trouble walking. They had spent hours each day helping the little cow gain strength until it could bound after its mother in the field behind their house, although he much preferred chasing after Tommy. And that was how the boy met his first Henry.

But Wilbur didn't remember.

What else had Wilbur forgotten? Was he just too caught up in his work to think about the past or had dying erased those wonderful memories? Sure, his entire childhood was overshadowed by Phil and Techno's absence, but it was happy, simply because of Wilbur.

Did his brother not feel the same way?

Did he not cherish those memories when night rolled around and he couldn't find the proper position to go to sleep in? When times were rough and everyone was against them (as it had been so many times before)?

Was raising Tommy a burden to Wilbur?

And then Tommy jolted with the realization. Of course it was.

Of course sixteen-year-old Wilbur, all but abandoned by his father and brother and left to raise a child, alone, wouldn't enjoy those memories. It was probably the worst experience of Wilbur's life, having to give up so much just to change Tommy's diaper and wake up in the middle of the night when he was crying simply because Phil was too much of an asshole to bother with it.

It took Tommy a good long while to sit and think about it, sitting in that little meadow among the trees, back against the fence of the pen, eyes unfocused and unblinking.

–

"Wil, are you busy?" The man smiled, and Tommy didn't think he would be so happy to see it.

"You know, for once, I have a little break!" Tommy instantly brightened. They could spend time together!

"I'm planning on getting shit-faced and falling asleep on the floor. I haven't had alcohol in far too long."

And just like that, Tommy's skies turned to grey.

"Well, before you do that, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

Tommy hesitated, eyes drifting to the lines in the wooden floor and messing with his hem. "Your question, Tommy?" Wilbur prompted, sounding slightly annoyed. Right, of course. Mans had plans, Tommy couldn't keep him waiting.

"I just wondered what it was like when I was little. I remember that Phil and Techno left for an expedition that lasted forever, and it was just you and me. To me, the memories are really happy and I love thinking about my childhood, but it only just occurred to me that I never asked you what it was like for you."

"What it was like?" Wilbur asked incredulously, with a cold laugh.

"Tommy, don't get me wrong. I'm very happy your childhood memories are good, but raising you was, well, sort of hell. I mean, babies are annoying in general, but it was late nights and tight money and learning how to parent while still being a kid. You can't blame me for hating every second of it."

Of course. What had Tommy expected? Had he expected his brother, his genius, musical, presidential brother to enjoy being cooped up in a house for six years raising a kid on his own at sixteen? Obviously not.

But he still felt sad.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Wil. That's awful."

"Not your fault, Toms," The man sighed, but it still felt like it was to the boy. "It's Phil, he's the one who left. You were an infant, the only innocent thing in this world."

Tommy nodded hesitantly. But his eyes returned to the floor and his fingers returned to the hem of his shirt, resuming their anxious fiddling.

Wilbur walked out, saying something about locating the best bottle of scotch they had, but Tommy didn't pay attention. He just looked at the little spots in the dark lines between the floorboards.

–

"...can't believe him," Tommy heard from his brother's office as he walked to get a snack from the shared chests.

The door was cracked open, and he couldn't help but peer in to see Wilbur leaning against the sofa in his office, seemingly speaking to nothing.

With slurred speech, he continued whatever he had been ranting about. "The aud- au- audacity. Asks me if I liked raising him. Hell, 'm still raising him."

Tommy wished he'd left well enough alone, because now he was racing back to his room, hand desperately pressed against his mouth to silence the cough that wanted to come out, with whatever else it would bring.

He got to his room and let his coughing fit continue unhindered. Violent, uncontrollable spasms rocked his body and he could barely breathe, he could feel the stop of airflow turning his face red and making his head feel like it would explode.

After who knows how long, he coughed up a collection of small petals, which a disturbing amount of blood.

Looking at the sick in his hand, he understood what the universe was trying to tell him: that he was unloved and unlovable.

The disease had what it needed from Tommy; the complete and utter despair of knowing (thinking) nobody loves you. Now it could fully burrow its roots in the boy's lungs, use his body as a vessel to grow its flower.

And with that, Tommy was shut down from the inside.

–

"Niki, he hasn't been up for a week. He just drifts around, can't even look at me. He won't follow directions, and he looks paler and paler every day. Is he turning into a zombie or something?"

Niki looked at him with a disturbed expression. "...Wil, as much as I'd love to help you, if this is what I think it is, you'd do better with speaking to Eret. I do first-aid, and I've trained myself for emergencies. This is far more long-term than anything I can do and is much closer to what Eret has read about."

"What do you think it is?"

Niki ignored the question. "Wil, have you seen flower petals lying around anywhere? Red petals, perhaps?"

Bewildered, Wilbur answered in the negative. Niki contemplated for a moment, then urged the man to visit Eret, giving him a final, stress-filled piece of advice.

"If you don't get Tommy help, he will die."

---

"Hey Eret," Wilbur greeted with a sigh, stepping into the castle. "Hello, Mr. Soot. What can I help you with?" They asked kindly, leading the musician to a sitting area.

The man practically collapsed into the soft cushions, and Eret poured some tea that was somehow hot and ready for them.

Wilbur accepted a cup with a nod of thanks and took a sip before speaking. "It's about Tommy," He said shortly.

"Is Tommy alright?"

Wilbur sucked his teeth. "No. He's not. He doesn't get up, doesn't eat, doesn't do anything I tell him to. I mean, he looks like a zombie, all grey and pale. Even his eyes," He added. "I asked Niki to take a look at him and she got super concerned and asked all these weird questions, then deferred me to you."

"What questions did she ask?"

Wilbur scrunched his nose. "She asked if I had seen blood and petals, and I had no idea why. Blood, I get, but petals? I mean-"

"Have you?" A troubled-looking Eret asked, leaning forward in their armchair.

"Have I what?" Wilbur responded, annoyed.

"Seen blood or petals?"

"No, I haven't! I have no idea why you both are getting stuck on this. Is there some bizarre disease going around involving these things?"

"There is a disease that, while not contagious, has a 100% mortality rate when left untreated," The king said solemnly. Wilbur's eyes widened.

"And you think Tommy has it?"

The lines between Eret's eyebrows softened, and she gave a small smile. "I'd like to have a look at him first, but if you haven't seen anything unusual it could perfectly well be a bad flu or something psychological. Prime knows that kid has enough to shut down over," She said, the last part quieter than the rest.

"Well, let's hope you can fix him because I can't get everything I need to get done on my own, I need an extra set of hands," Wilbur said with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. But Eret only offered a tight-lipped smile in return.

---

"He's in there," Wilbur said as he pointed to a closed door, then quickly disappeared into another room. Eret shook their head a little before gently knocking on the door, receiving no response.

"Tommy, I'm coming in," He said softly, this time receiving a small groan.

It was dark, and the only sign of life was the lump on the bed that rolled over as Eret entered.

"Hey Big Man," She said softly. "Mind if I turn the light on?"

No response.

Eret switched the lever and the room was bathed in the soft, yellow glow of Redstone lamps embedded between the stones in the floor, and they looked closer at the face peeking out of the covers.

To his surprise, Tommy's eyes were wide open and lazily trained on Eret, and they found that Wilbur's description was accurate: Tommy's face had a sickeningly pale hue and his eyes seemed empty of the spirit and color the king had seen when he had last spoken with Tommy (which, admittedly, was a while ago).

"I heard you weren't feeling too well," They said, moving around the room in a show of tidying things up. In reality, she was trying to see if those cold eyes would follow her, and to her relief, they did.

"Let's get you sitting up."

It took a few minutes to balance Tommy against the wall and between some pillows and would have taken considerably shorter if Tommy had not been all but a dead weight for Eret to handle, but he couldn't blame the kid; he just looked so tired.

They sat down next to Tommy on the bed, intending on trying to get a few words out of him, but before he could begin speaking their foot bumped something peeking out from under the bed.

She reached down and grabbed it.

It was a small wooden box intended for holding trinkets or old photographs, and when they looked at Tommy they got no sign of objection, so they slid the lid off.

Inside was a pile of petals, stained rust-colored with dried blood.

---

"Wilbur, Tommy's going to be staying with me for a while," The king said curtly, not bothering to ask permission. "Did you figure out what's wrong with him?"

Eret paused.

"Yes. I think he needs some time away from this area and his responsibilities and could use a little break in the castle. Give it a week or two and he'll be good as new."

Wilbur's gaze darkened. "Tommy knows we can't afford to take breaks. He's well aware two weeks is far too long off, especially after lying in bed all week. Right, Tommy?"

The boy leaning most of his weight against Eret's back didn't answer, but sucked in a sharp breath and caved in on himself slightly, something that didn't slip by Eret.

"Wilbur, with all due respect, I wasn't asking. Tommy needs a break and I'm sorry if this inconveniences you, but he's sick and will die if he stays here. It's not up to you."

With that, Eret turned around and picked the boy up, a task that wasn't difficult given how light he was.

They walked towards their castle with Wilbur's blazing glare practically melting a hole in the back of their cape.

---

"What's wrong with me?" Tommy asked quietly, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a bowl of hot soup in front of him on the table.

The day marked a week since Eret had brought him to the castle, and indeed he was feeling better being away from that place. Wilbur's voice was like a grinding under the skin and his presence caused a flare in Tommy's chest that made it difficult to breathe.

Of course, he had only been dimly aware of this from under the shroud of grey that had placed in front of his eyes, which seemed to steadily lift as each day passed in Eret's colorful home.

"It's a disease called Hanahaki. Its origins are magic and something I researched a while ago, so I'm familiar with how it works. Long story short, its magic preys on those who have unrequited love, or believe they are unloved. A flower grows in your lungs and causes you to cough up petals and blood. If left untreated, the victim continues to cough up petals and blood and is eventually suffocated by the flower once it grows big enough."

Tommy stared in horror, mouth opening and closing a few times before he found his words.
"You can... treat it though, right?"

Eret smiled kindly and took one of Tommy's hands from across the table.

"Yes, there are ways of treating it, don't worry."

"So... who am I in love with?"

"Not all love is romantic. You feel platonic love for people like your family and friends. I believe the person causing you this pain is Wilbur, but it might be more than one person. Is there anyone else that makes your chest hurt when you think about them the same way you feel when you're near Wilbur?"

Tommy thought for a moment, staring at the table. He winced a few times, apparently trying to figure out who else was the root of his problem.

"My dad and my brothers. It hurts when I think about them," Tommy said finally, unable to meet Eret's eyes.

"That makes sense, Tommy. And it's okay. Your family is complicated and has been broken and put together a few times. Some of those cracks just can't be covered up."

The boy smiled sadly, finally looking up.

Eret continued.

"Tommy, you have a few options here. You can confess your love and see if it's requited. If it is and your brothers and father truly love you, the flower will wilt and die peacefully and you will be healthy again. If the love is not requited the flower will continue to grow at a faster rate and you will die." Tommy winced, and Eret wished with all their heart they didn't have to be telling this young boy his family might not love him and that might kill him. "If you keep the love to yourself and don't do anything, you will also die. The flower will continue to feed on your pain and use it to grow and kill you." The atmosphere was growing gloomier with each word she said, Tommy sinking into his seat further and further.

"The third option is for me to perform a spell to magically remove the plant. The catch is it will take with it all your memories of the people connected to the flower, and you will remember nothing of them."

After that, no words were spoken, and Eret let Tommy mull it over.

"Well, it's easy!" The boy said finally, a wavering smile sitting on his face and looking like it would fall off at any moment. His tone was shaky but loud, trying to be sure of itself. "Of course they love me. My father raised me, and Technoblade took me in after exile, and Wilbur is letting me live with him now! So I'll just ask them if they love me, and they'll say yes, and I'll be okay."

But his false enthusiasm could not convince Eret, who tried as hard as they could to keep the pity off their face. He knew Tommy hated that.

Finally, they spoke again.

"Do you feel loved?"

"Yes," Tommy said instantly.

"Are you sure? Does it feel the same way it did when you were a child?"

This time the boy thought it over slower, but it was clear that such a direct thought of those people was causing his lungs pain, so he didn't dwell on it for too long.

"Yes, I'm sure." This time it was said calmer, more resolute.

"Then why is that flower growing in you?"

Tommy could not answer.

"Eret, even if they don't love me back," He said after a long time, this voice softer, "I could never stop loving them, and I could never forget them. I can't let you perform that spell."

"Tommy, please understand," She said earnestly, her other hand coming up to wrap both of Tommy's between them. "Some love is worth it. Some love is worth death because it is stronger than death. But this love? This love is weak and it is toxic, and that is why this flower is growing inside you — because it's not actually love."

Tommy shook his head, the side of him that was attached to his family desperately trying to overtake the part of him that knew the truth, that he had to let them go.

"There's a fine line between love and control, Tommy. It seems your family is incapable of staying on the right side of that line."

They let the words sink in, knowing Tommy would need time.

He stared at the dark stained wood of the table for a long time, occasionally spooning soup into his mouth, much to Eret's relief.

Eventually, they met eyes, Tommy's shiny with unshed tears and Eret's own hidden behind his glasses. "It's just like what Dream did, innit?" Tommy said sadly. "They tell you it's love, but it's not really love."

The words he said next brought Eret's shoulders down from their tenseness and a relieved sigh out of him.

"I'll let you perform the spell."

---

"Was your little vacation nice?" Wilbur said snarkily with a raised eyebrow as the face of his little brother peeked out from behind Eret's grand castle door, answering his knock. "Sure wish I had a vacation."

Tommy just looked at him in confusion. "Uh..."

"Don't 'uhh' me. I'm glad you're feeling better, but we're very behind on our plans and we need to get a move on."

They stared at each other, Wilbur's eyes narrowed and Tommy's eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I have no idea who you are."

Wilbur rolled his eyes dramatically. "Very funny," He deadpanned. "But seriously, it's time to come back. I'll even let you show me around that weird project you've got going in the woods with all the fences n' shit."

Tommy just shook his head slowly, not quite understanding what's going on. "Do you want me to get Eret for you?" He asked eventually, and it was like the name summoned the king themself, who showed up behind Tommy and placed a hand on his shoulder.

" Hey Toms, Niki, and Tubbo just got the cookies out of the oven, and Michael's very anxious to start decorating but he didn't want to do it without you."

Tommy smiled. "Awww, that kid is annoying but he's just so cute sometimes!" He scampered off in the direction of the kitchen and Eret turned to meet Wilbur's seething gaze.

"What did you do to him?" He asked, bewildered.

"I'd sincerely love to sit down and fill you in on my research another day over tea, but-"

"ERET! Tommy's eating all the cookies!" Tubbo screeched from the kitchen over a cackling Tommy and Niki scolding the pair.

"They're crazy, aren't they?" Eret chuckled nervously, hastily closing the door and leaving a confused Wilbur in her wake. 

-

I swear I've posted this before???