You Made Flowers Grow in My Lungs, but I Couldn’t Breathe
A/N: hey guys, once again I’m sorry for lack of content. This is really mediocre, but like… Here it is ig. This is based off of a fictional disease called the Hanahaki Disease, where a person will cough up petals and flowers due to unrequited love causing flowers to bloom in that person’s lungs (yeah I dunno but I like the idea okay it’s my blog I do what I please). It’s also loosely based off of some fanart I saw. Anyways, please enjoy, this is my first bmc fanfic, I hope it’s good :)
Pairing: Boyf riends
Word count: 4105 (jesus fuck im so sorry im jst emo abt the musical/book also michael)
Warnings: uhh lots of angst, sad michael, drugs, spoilers from the book ending, like literally almost all the dialogue here is pulled directly from or references something in the book, i think that’s everything?
(also, side note: Even though I’m using events and dialogue from the book, the characters look like how they are in the musical, i.e michael isn’t a white-bread motherfucker, neither is christine)
Imagine: you’re laying in a soft hammock. the breeze is blowing the heat off you and rocking the hammock. next to you is a pound of weed, and enough Valium to kill an army. no one can be heard around you. you are entirely alone, able to listen to the earth when its not polluted with humans. around you 13 dogs are napping in the sun. they are happy. they are good boys.
you have no where to be. all the time in the world to do whatever you want, uninterrupted.
there’s also those mini wholly mammoth things bc those were cute
wow i feel like these are three different characters see,, you’ve got the naive pot smoking bassist, the flannel wearing art student who paints nudes, and the fucking annoying tumblr hipster who constantly reminds you to drink water
for the longest time, your world has always only been black, white and grey. you’ve only ever known your black eyes and grey skin and the white sun in the silver sky, and this is the norm. these are the only shades that matter, and the world has been black and white since the day you were born.
there isn’t exactly anything wrong with that. really, there isn’t. this is life as you know it, shaded in the lights and shadows, and sometimes you wonder how the rest of the world looked. is it darker than the city or brighter than the sun? are there buildings taller than the ones here? you figure that you’ll never really know. you’ve never been past the edge of the city, after all.
until you look up from where you were aimlessly wandering the streets to find yourself in front of an odd, little store. there are grey, potted plants standing tall beside the small place and a black bike parked just by the pavement, and you blink up at the sign on the store’s window curiously.