Christopher Nguyen, Period 8, 10/26/21

Christopher Nguyen

Period 8

10/26/2021

Modern Mythology 2022

Creativity & Fiction

Hanahaki Disease

Yearning encompasses the fruits of desire, but before fruit there must be flowers.  Petals of corrosion devour the mind, heart, and lungs.  What is the fate of those who choose to be lost in their want, who choose to persevere in their lovesickness?  Foolish bravery is only followed by needless mourning, yet the human heart continues to defy its own confines, risking death at odd turns.  Bleak flowers, bleached white and void of saturation is all that would come in the end.  How is it that people are allowed to wallow in self pity, yet be the cause of their own adversity?  Like a burning ember, the human will is free, yet fleeting altogether. 

Seungkwan was a twenty three year old Korean male idol singer gifted with all the skills an extrovert would be proud of.  The man was an average height of 5’9”, yet could only be described by all those around him as jarringly beautiful.  Bleached ash grey hair framed his small, v-line face like a halo to the deities above.  A thin frame and pale, toned body synthesized some of his features, accentuating his unrivaled delicate-looking face.  He would smile at those he walked past, emitting a golden warmth rivaled by only the sun.  His vocal capabilities were unmatched, characterized by melodies which seemed to rival an angel’s choir.  Yet, for all of his ethereal qualities, Seungkwan was crashing as a fallen angel, an extinguished star, a wilting flower.

How?  How can a bright constellation transform into a mere void, a grey, empty space?  Is it the wrath of the gods above and below taking their envy at such a perfect individual?  No, not even they could smite such beauty.  The undoing of a radiant sun could only be the result of itself.  Just like the bright celestial beings in space are eventually put out from their own will to live, Seungkwan was robbed by his desire to love, to love strongly and fiercely.  However, intense yearning captured in an unbreakable cage can result in one thing: burn out.  

The object he lusted for was none other than his fellow idol group member, Mingyu.  A year older, tall, and muscular, yet with a personality reminiscent of a puppy, Mingyu’s angular face and boyish behavior captivated all who glanced at him.  Seungkwan mentally begged to be held by the 6’2” male’s broad frame, yet could not voice his wants out loud.  Mingyu was there for him since early childhood, and they spent the entirety of their lives together.  The time they spent, however, was under the label of close friends, practically brothers.  There was no point of confessing when failure was predetermined.  Love can bloom in myriads of ways, after all.  It can bloom into fruit and bear harvest, or wither into decay, as a heaving breath overpowers a fading spirit.  

To love is to die, but why is it that the taste of blood suddenly tastes so sweet?  Every thought of Mingyu caused a warm pool to fill in Seungkwan’s stomach, scorching him from inside out.  Daydreams of wishful kisses led Seugkwan’s lips to bleed crimson, but how could he stop when the metallic taste in his mouth was brought by petals of adoration.  Over time, though, these petals would choke the poor, pining fellow to his death, surrounded by nothing but neverending scarlet carnations.  The language of flowers would be there to haunt Seungkwan forever, his shaky breaths exuding indications of a final day approaching.  As such, to love is to not be enough.  Euphoria from devoting oneself to another without reciprocation can only last so long, and once that fades, a grave of chrysanthemums will take its place.