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All the legends are true. Those that speak of flowers taking root in unrequited love are no exception. Still, it's rare enough- happening mostly to fae, sometimes in warlocks, and rarely to shadowhunters- that worry never even occurs to Kit.
It turns out there are some increased risks in having both Herondale and fae blood, even if you don’t count all the murder.
They say Herondales only love once. Kit never really wonders why, not until he leaves LA with something stuck in his throat; not until he wakes up choking on a flower. That's when he figures out that they never get the chance not to.
(For a moment, Kit had seen a ghost in Jem and Tessa’s eyes. It had been the way they had looked at the blood: as if this was not the first time they had seen crushed flowers, as if this wouldn’t be the last. He hadn't even had to explain.)
Jem calls for help, and it's the first time Kit feels actually relieved that they're here. He wouldn't have known what to do on his own. Despite his protests, Tessa cleans the blood off his face with the sleeve of her sleep shirt - Jem helps him breathe through the pain - and they wait.
Kit never forgets that conversation.
The first option should be clear , the Silent Brother tells him.
The coughing has left his throat raw and painful. He considers not saying anything, but the brief glint of hope in Tessa's eyes is too much to bear. He speaks up.
"It's not an option at all. I've already told h- them."
Her hand on his back goes rigid.
It won’t kill you, the Silent Brother says, not unkindly. At least not any time soon. You will survive this for a few decades.
Jem seeks out Tessa's free hand, gives it a firm squeeze. "Is there anything else we can do? Our medicine must be better now, right?"
There are palliatives, as there have always been. Surgery is a possibility; however, it's an invasive one, and never works for long. We would… hesitate, in this case.
Kit gets the impression the Silent Brother would prefer not to have to give Jem the bad news.
Clearly, no one in the room has what they want.
It almost surprises Kit that some days are fine. Some days are great, even, and his throat barely hurts. He can laugh without the risk of triggering a coughing fit. That’s when Tessa and Jem are at their most relaxed, their eyes following him around with fondness instead of concern. He messes with his hair and she makes fun of his taste in movies. They all watch them together anyway.
Some days, most days, are… tolerable. Mostly, he coughs up the flowers at night. Kit gets used to swallowing down breakfast like it’s broken glass, to making it through the day on fewer hours of sleep than he’d like. His parents don’t hover- Jem, he finds, would never let them- but they’re watchful, always. Tessa makes him drink his tea with honey. It always catches him by surprise when it actually helps, at least a little.
And then there are the bad days. The ones where Kit feels like he’s choking on thorns, where every breath he takes is a hardship and a victory. Even drinking water hurts; food, then, is almost impossible to swallow, and he spends his waking hours mostly trying his hardest to breathe. Those are the days where he wonders if this will be what ends him.
Jem and Tessa never leave him by himself when it happens, someone always, always by his bedside. Mina grows up knowing her brother has Bad Days. If she knows what they mean yet, he isn't quite sure. She thinks the flowers are pretty, at least, the least disturbed member of the family when it comes to the color of blood.
It's a little strange that Mina has never known him healthy. Maybe, Kit thinks, she never will. It never seems to matter to her much, this little kid that likes to ride on his shoulders on his good days and to pretend to read him stories when he's stuck in bed.
It feels weird to say that he’s happier now than he ever was in LA, but it’s still true.
Sure, his lungs don’t work as well as they used to, probably never will again. Even when the flowers don't come up, he's always just a little dust away from having to fight for his breath. His nose is perpetually stuffed with a cold he can never quite get rid of. Kit's tired, all of the time , and never more than when he's just woken up.
Still.
Jem spends his better days teaching him how to work around his limits. Kit was already slow before the disease, and he needs frequent breaks now, but he’s getting faster. His aim gets better with every training session. Jem isn’t afraid to tell him when he thinks Kit can afford to work a little harder, but he also takes it seriously when he can’t.
It’s Jem who teaches him when to work through the pain and when to give in to its warning. He has to. Kit pushes himself far too hard in the beginning, trying to forget, and it never feels like enough until he's collapsed on the floor.
He's found only a minute later. Jem doesn't quite scold him, even though Kit had expected him to. He lies down instead, a hand on Kit's wrist (checking his pulse?) and breathes in, out, until their breathing is one.
"The training is important because you are", Jem tells him. "Not the other way around."
The coughing that night is worse than it has ever been. Tessa rubs his back to soothe him, which is such a motherly thing to do, it drives Kit to tears. Pain and exhaustion, he learns that night, can break down the hardest of walls when someone is there to hold you. When Kit falls back asleep, it's in her embrace.
It’s hard to feel unloved like that.
That is, of course, when everything happens.
Kit would like to emphasize that he was actually doing a good job of… not hiding , exactly, but not letting Ty and Dru see the real nature of his illness.
He tells them he has a lung disease. (Which isn't exactly a lie.) It's second nature by now to explain how it makes him slower, less able to run or fight for too long, how he's prone to coughing fits. Dru and Ty are concerned, but they understand. They accommodate.
Kit isn't too worried about them finding out. His flowers usually only come out at night.
What he hasn't factored into his calculation is this: nights used to be the only times he allowed himself to think of Ty. This has obviously had to change.
It doesn't even take that much in the end. Ty rests a hand on Kit's lower back, guiding him to the right door, and Kit just- collapses.
The choking is the worst part. The second worst are the flowers.
"I'm not gonna die", Kit says.
He hasn't looked up yet. Hasn't wanted to see the expression on their faces. The flowers on his lap aren't pretty: the human throat isn't very conducive to keeping a delicate thing intact on its way up. Kit touches a crushed petal and sighs.
"So hanahaki really is chronic", Ty finally says. "Despite the rumors. I didn't think-"
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Kit runs his tongue along the edge of his canine; tastes blood, breathes in. "I didn't want to."
"But-"
"I didn't want to. That's it. You're not- I don't need to- it's not any of your business."
"We're your friends!"
"Are you?" Kit says. Dru freezes, her clenched fists just about visible in the darkness. "We haven't talked in years. Even if you are, it's still not any of your business. Most of my friends here don't know."
"Of course we are your friends-"
"Who does know?" Ty interrupts.
Kit doesn't need to look up to feel the weight of Ty's attention on him. It's been a constant companion since their reunion, which he's been trying not to think about- not yet quite sure how he feels about it. Kit twists the stem of a flower, starts trying to tie a knot. It breaks off halfway.
"Jem and Tessa. Magnus knows, I don't know if Alec does. The Silent Brothers- Jem called one of them in when it started, and what one knows, all of them do. He says they wouldn't have told anyone. I trust his word. Mari knows, because I wouldn't have dated someone without telling them. I don't know if Mina understands enough to count." Kit shrugs. "That's about it."
"Is that why you guys broke up?"
Kit steals a look; Dru faces his glare head-on. Her jaw is gonna hurt later if she doesn't stop clenching it.
"No", he finally says. "Not- only, at least. We're still friends. It just didn't work out, that's all."
"You said you're not gonna die. Is that true?"
A heavy sigh escapes before Kit can stop it. Ty says:
"Not quickly. But chronic hanahaki can shorten someone's lifespan."
"You know what else does?" Kit says. "Murderous fae. Can we go back to that?"
"Who is it?"
The question is almost insulting in its simplicity, as if the answer hasn't been as obvious as the blood on his lips.
Ty is silent now. Of course. Kit plays the crushed remains of another flower:
"Does that matter?"
"Of course it does", Dru says. "Have you told them?"
"Dru-"
"Yeah. I have. Didn't make that much difference, did it?" Kit doesn't quite snap. "It didn't even deserve an answer, apparently."
In his peripheral vision, Ty goes completely still.
"Who was it? If they didn't answer, there's still a chance. I'm sure if we explain-"
"There isn't, Dru. He- they just don't feel the same". Kit violently crushes another flower. "It's- you're not- this isn't a fairytale, okay? No one's gonna look at me and think I deserve a true love's kiss. That's just not how the world works."
He had more to say- has been saying this for years, repeating the same speech to Tessa, to Mari, to the Silent Brother who came to check in every so often- except Ty kneels in front of him and Kit forgets all the words he'd once known.
He had almost forgotten the exact shade of Ty's eyes. Hadn't wanted to look at them, afraid of overstepping a boundary. They have the focused glint of a blade in the moonlight. Dangerous. Beautiful .
"Ty?"
The answer comes in the shape of dry, strong hands reaching out to cup Kit's face. He goes limp into them. There is no alarm left to remind him why he shouldn't.
"If you had stayed," Ty says, careful, every word precisely picked, "you'd know that's not true."
The entire world stops.
"I don't say things I don't mean. I don't seek out people I don't care about. I'd thought you knew that. But if you didn't, if you don't, here it is, where it has always been: I love you. I've been loving you."
"Ty," Kit says, helpless.
"Can I kiss you?"
Kit nods an enthusiastic yes. Ty leans in.
The flowers wither.