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i.
Basil learned the hard way that some flowers were nourished not by sunlight and water, but by envy and loneliness.
It should've been a lovely day. It was spring, his favorite season, and the trees outside the window were gently shaking white blossoms to the ground. He was in Sunny's living room, sitting on the sofa with Sunny's head resting on his lap. Sunny was immersed in a handheld video game, and Basil was immersed in every minute flicker of his expression. He was careful not to move, because if he didn't disturb him, maybe Sunny would stay like that all afternoon.
It should've been lovely. It was lovely, until Kel and Aubrey showed up at the door, bickering over whose fault it was that Aubrey had dropped her ice cream cone, and Hero and Mari came downstairs to watch a movie in the living room, and suddenly there were six people crammed on the sofa, and someone was between him and Sunny.
The movie wasn't very good, because Hero liked sappy, clichéd stories, and Mari liked making fun of both them and how seriously her boyfriend took them. Basil wouldn't have minded the cheesy plot if the romance wasn't so heavy-handed. Even as Mari teased Hero, her hand was snug in his, and her voice was full of affection. Basil didn't mind that, either; Mari and Hero had been dating forever, and he was happy for them.
What was a lot harder was being happy about the glances Sunny and Aubrey kept exchanging. Basil had to remind himself that if he were a good friend, he'd cheer them on, push them to finally get together.
“Excuse me,” he said, too awkward and polite for a hangout with friends, and stumbled off to the bathroom. His stomach twisted in a tell-tale way, and he barely had the toilet lid up before he was retching.
All that came out was a single red petal. Basil stared at it floating on the toilet water, then closed the lid and flushed it away. If he was losing his mind, he didn't want to think about it. He already had enough to worry about. He washed his hands slowly and methodically as a distraction, lingering at the sink even after they were clean so he didn't have to return to the living room.
He eventually convinced himself to open the bathroom door. Right outside stood Sunny, looking for all the world completely disinterested and neutral, but Basil knew better. Sunny's patient waiting outside the door, the way his eyes probed Basil's face- he cared, he really did. Helpless love flooded Basil's veins again, and he panicked, slamming the door in Sunny's face and coughing out several more petals red as blood. He hastily picked them up, threw them in the trash, and washed his hands again. When he reopened the door, Sunny was still standing there. He said nothing about how weird Basil was acting and simply waited until Basil felt ready to return to the others.
Sunny was patient. Sunny didn't judge him. Sunny was weird, too. Basil couldn't want anyone else, but Sunny wanted Aubrey, and he didn't know how to cope with that.
ii.
There were camellias on Basil's window sill. Tulips on his desk, cacti by his bed, lilies lining every shelf. There were roses and sunflowers blooming in his lungs, thorny stems piercing him deep within, wilted petals on his pillow each morning. He coughed color into tissues and disposed of the evidence at the bottom of trash cans. Some days, seeing Sunny made it less painful. Some days, it made it more.
iii.
“Hey, can I talk to you?” Aubrey asked.
She looked uncharacteristically serious as she turned to Basil. She'd just finished re-dyeing her hair, and there was a smear of leftover pink on her cheek. They were at Kel's house, a place as familiar as their own homes. Aubrey had given Mari a few streaks of hot pink to match hers, refused Kel's request for the same, and threatened to dye Hero's hair rainbow in his sleep if he didn't work up the nerve to deal with the spider in the kitchen himself. Now Hero was recovering from his trial of bravery in Mari's arms, Kel was pouting in his room, and Sunny was nibbling at the only batch of cookies that had gotten baked before the spider incident. That left Aubrey and Basil alone outside, where they were combing the yard for four-leaf clovers.
Basil sat back on his heels and met Aubrey's eyes. “What is it?”
She tapped her nails against her leg. They were brightly painted and perfectly rounded, so different from Basil's blunt ones, always crusted with gardening soil. “See, the thing is-” She blew out a long breath. “God, why am I so nervous! Listen, Basil, I just need some encouragement. There's someone I want to ask out, and I just want to know I'm doing the right thing.”
Basil pressed his lips together tightly so no petals would peek out and nodded for her to go on. He would be a caring, thoughtful friend, whatever Aubrey needed him to be, even if it made poison ivy consume him from the inside out.
“So her name's Kim and she's in my class and we've been hanging out all the time lately,” she said in a sudden rush. “When I'm not hanging out with you guys, I mean. I'm pretty sure she likes me and I definitely like her, but it's like... It would be a huge change. I would see you guys even less. Maybe I shouldn't.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and sighed.
Basil was too stunned to respond. Kim? A girl? Not Sunny? When his brain finally processed the shock, he scrambled for the right words to say. Aubrey had always been resistant to change. Basil thought that, combined with Sunny's introversion, was why the two hadn't begun dating- yet. It was always looming, all but inevitable, and now Aubrey was telling him he'd gotten it all wrong.
“Look,” Basil managed to say. “See this flower?” He pointed at a wildflower near their feet. Half its petals were lavender and half were dark purple. It was tiny and lovely, though probably overlooked or casually stepped on by most. “It was just a buried seed before it was a line of green, and now it's this beautiful flower.” He touched its petals almost reverently. “It only got this way by growing and changing.”
Aubrey considered the flower for a moment before saying, “But it'll wilt. It will, one day. Maybe even tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” Basil agreed. “Staying as a seed in the earth would've been safer, but then it never would've gotten to see the sun, and we never would've gotten to see it.”
He wondered why it was so much easier to give advice to other people than to himself. To give hope away, like priceless bouquets. But despite his self-doubt, it felt good to see Aubrey smile, as good as it felt to coax a demanding plant to blossom. She hugged him, brief but tight, and said, “Thanks, Basil. I'll ask her out tomorrow. Wish me luck!”
He looked down at his hands and spotted a clover with four perfect leaves. “Here,” he said, plucking it from the ground and showing it to Aubrey. She smiled again, accepted the clover, and ran toward the house to show Mari, just like when they were kids. Some things never changed. But when had this?
“Aubrey,” he blurted out just before she disappeared inside. She looked back with her hand hovering over the doorknob. “I thought... I thought you liked Sunny.”
She looked surprised, then embarrassed. “I guess it was obvious, huh? But that was a long time ago. I still love him, but not like that.” She opened the door and left Basil alone in the yard.
He started laughing. He couldn't help it. It was all so ridiculous. Aubrey was no longer in love with Sunny. She wasn't going to date him. He wouldn't be taken away from Basil. And it didn't even matter. Because Sunny still loved Aubrey. He was sickeningly sure of that much.
His laughter became coughing, and the ground was littered with crimson snapdragons, blazing tiger lilies. He kicked the petals behind a shed and abandoned his clover search. The ground had already yielded its luck to someone more deserving.
iv.
Sunny took the news poorly.
For weeks, he moped. Moping Sunny didn't look remarkably different from content Sunny, but Basil could tell them apart. Sunny mostly curled up with games, exchanging real life for a more palatable role as someone else in a better, fairer world. Basil read books for the same reason, so he understood.
At least they were having more alone time, and Basil was showered with opportunities to comfort Sunny. He tried, he really did, though the reason for Sunny's sadness stung.
One day, Mari ushered Sunny downstairs to their living room, where Basil was waiting. “Outside you go, little brother,” Mari sang. “You need a little of your namesake weather in your life.”
Sunny shook his head, but Mari was just as stubborn, and a few minutes later, she'd gotten him through the front door. “Take care of him, Basil,” Mari called before locking them out. Sunny kicked at a rock, growing ever more sullen.
Basil was a bit more used to being taken care of than taking care of someone else, but he inwardly promised Mari he wouldn't let her down. “Let's go to the park,” he suggested to Sunny. Sunny didn't seem excited at the idea, but he didn't reject it. They walked side by side over hot pavement to the park. Because it was a Saturday, the place was crowded with families, so many people and voices that Basil knew it would put Sunny more on edge. He hesitated before taking Sunny's hand and leading him to a more secluded section of the park. It wasn't empty, but it was passably quiet.
Sunny's hand was cold and clammy in his. His hands were always like that, even on bright summer days. Basil knew because they'd never quite outgrown holding hands, even after starting high school. “Let's make flower crowns,” he said, and they let go of each other as they settled onto the grass. Wildflowers were abundant here, so many in arm's reach that they wouldn't have to move an inch to make two crowns, using the same method Mari had taught them all years ago. Basil's fingers still remembered how to gently braid the fragile flower stems together.
It felt like years reversed and they were little kids again, two small, awkward boys who struggled to make friends, with the other as a notable exception. Basil crowned Sunny with his finished work and Sunny returned the favor a minute later when he finished his own. The slight weight around Basil's head was nostalgic and comforting. A gust of wind flickered through his hair, making it messier while somehow completely sparing Sunny's smooth, straight strands. Sunny raised a hand and almost touched Basil's hair, then changed his mind and placed his hand back in his lap. Basil didn't know what it meant: the movement, or its cancellation.
They got up and walked around in their crowns. A comfortable silence stretched between them, unbroken until Sunny spotted an ice cream stand and Basil offered to treat him. He ordered their favorites: vanilla for Sunny, strawberry for himself. Sunny had found a bench for them to sit on, and Basil went over to him and handed him a waffle cone. They licked at the refreshingly cold ice cream, both of them slow eaters, and Basil watched Sunny slyly. It hadn't been so long ago that Sunny's feet still dangled above the ground when he sat on benches like this one.
Then Sunny stiffened and fixed his eyes on a spot in front of them. Basil turned his head to see why. Sunny was staring toward the ice cream stand, where Aubrey and a girl Basil vaguely recognized were buying ice cream cones with all the toppings. Aubrey was laughing as the girl, who he realized had to be Kim, requested so many sprinkles, they started spilling onto the ground and her shoes.
Sunny abruptly turned away, like he could no longer bear the sight of Aubrey so happy with her new girlfriend. Ice cream dripped down his hand, but he didn't seem to notice. Basil lost his own appetite for sweets. He lowered his cone from where it had been paused halfway to his mouth and wondered what to do. Pretend he hadn't seen the girls? Suggest they move somewhere else?
Sunny petulantly let his ice cream cone fall to the ground, where nearby ants soon discovered the bounty and swarmed it. Basil had bought him that ice cream. Maybe Sunny only wanted ice cream from Aubrey, though.
He dropped his own cone in his hurry to cover his mouth when he felt a coughing fit coming on. Though he'd heard it wasn't healthy to suppress a cough, he desperately tried. Some rare side effect like a brain aneurysm or a premature heart attack would be less painful than what he felt, knowing he just wasn't good enough for Sunny's attention.
But Sunny was looking at him now, thanks to Basil's muffled suffering. He couldn't hold it back; he wheezed and hacked, but he kept his hands where they were. It was too dangerous to even utter an excuse and run off to the nearby public bathroom. If he parted his lips, he was sure to spew out the hundred petals he felt gathering behind his clenched teeth. He started to get up, deciding running out of the park was his only course of action, but Sunny practically sprang at him, grabbing his wrists and pulling. His eyes were narrowed, his demand clear: show me.
Basil pulled away, coughing louder and longer, and Sunny went with him, still trying to wrestle his hands from his mouth. Basil grew angry and went from being pushed backward to pushing back, sending Sunny toward the other side of the bench. He released his tight hold on his mouth and regretted it immediately when a cloud of pink and yellow flower petals and more than one thorn filled the space between them. It was too late to hide whatever was freakishly wrong with his body, and too late to pretend he wasn't mad at the person he was in love with. How dare Sunny want to know what was wrong, when he was the cause?
And hadn't they been holding hands just earlier? Basil felt like maybe he'd imagined that part.
“Basil?” came someone else's concerned voice. Aubrey's. Sunny's head snapped toward her, and that was the end for Basil, whose vision blackened as his lungs felt like they were being ripped out of his chest.
v.
Basil walked down a long, white hallway. It had a floor and ceiling, but no walls. But he couldn't veer off the straight path; he could only move forward, hoping the hallway would eventually end. Sometimes, he caught glimpses of movement out of the corner of his eye. The first time, he looked, and saw himself. The next time, it was himself but with roses instead of eyes. The third time, he had twigs where fingers should've been. He didn't look again after that, though the movement became more frequent and the silhouette more deformed in his peripheral vision.
After what seemed like both forever and just a second, he was at the end of the hallway, which morphed into a room with no doors or windows. It was hard to tell where walls and floor and ceiling met, because everything was a glowing, sickly white. In what might have been the middle of the room, Basil saw Sunny. He should've been illuminated, but in the pure-white room, he was somehow covered in shadows.
There was a single rose on the floor between them. Basil knelt down and picked it up. He couldn't see any thorns, but his fingers bled where something pricked them. He stood and handed the flower to Sunny. Sunny accepted it without a word. Then he stepped forward and shoved the rose, invisible thorns and all, into Basil's mouth, so far back he started to choke. His throat was raw and bleeding and he couldn't scream as the shadows extended from Sunny's body to coat the room in darkness.
He woke up still coughing.
vi.
He wasn't in the hospital, at least. The moment he awoke, he knew he'd been unconscious, not merely asleep, and it was a short trip from there to remembering why. He was in Sunny's bed, a blanket pulled up to his chin and the pillow fluffed beneath his head. Who had done that? Hero? Mari? He hoped their entire friend group didn't know he'd collapsed in the park, puking up flowers. He wondered who had brought him here. Not Sunny, that was for certain. Sunny was too small and slight to carry someone all the way from the park. Maybe Aubrey had. Maybe her girlfriend had helped.
None of these small details really mattered. He was just avoiding the fact that Sunny was sitting beside the bed, watching him, aware he was awake. Basil shouldn't have opened his eyes until he was ready. But then he never would've opened them, he supposed.
Basil tried to look at Sunny's edges instead of straight-on, like he really was the sun and might blind too-bold eyes. Sunny sat with his spine perfectly straight and his feet pulled onto the chair, his knees tucked into his chest. He didn't blink much. He never did. Basil felt flayed open, sure Sunny could see everything that was simultaneously blooming and rotting inside him.
Basil didn't have an explanation for what had happened in the park, so he settled on an apology. “Sorry. That was... I hope I didn't worry everyone too much.” He forced himself to smile, tried to make it reach his eyes. The last thing he ever wanted was to make someone else uncomfortable. Especially his closest friends.
But Sunny didn't buy his act. He stared at Basil flatly, like an annoyed cat with its ears laid flat, waiting for more. Basil grew frustrated, but he still tried to hide his feelings. They weren't useful at all. Sunny wasn't doing anything wrong. He couldn't help who he loved any more than Basil or Aubrey or anyone else could.
When Basil said nothing, Sunny finally broke the silence. “I hid the petals. Under the bench. No one else saw.”
That was one thing to be relieved about. Basil sank into the pillow, realizing how exhausted he was. So only Sunny knew he was a freak, and Sunny already knew that, just like Basil knew it about Sunny. There were parts of him he didn't think anyone but Sunny could accept. Maybe Sunny had similar parts, but Basil wouldn't presume that Aubrey or whoever he fell in love with next wouldn't accept them as Basil did. Sunny didn't need him, no matter how deeply the reverse was true.
Basil fought the tears welling up in his eyes. He turned his head to face away from Sunny, but Sunny simply stood up, walked to the other side of the bed, and got on his knees with his head resting on folded arms, again forcing eye contact with Basil.
“Everything will be okay,” Sunny said, and Basil was stunned. Those were his words. Had he ever meant them? Did Sunny mean them now?
He tried to agree. “Maybe.”
Sunny didn't push for anything more. He climbed onto the bed and lay next to Basil until he fell back asleep.
vii.
They did a lot of not-talking about that day. It was different that just avoiding certain conversation; the topic was heavy and blatant between them and neither pretended otherwise, but they didn't verbalize it. It was just there.
Basil knew Sunny had figured out his feelings. It was uncomfortable, but at least he didn't have to run somewhere out of sight to have a coughing fit when he was hanging out with Sunny. At least Sunny still let him hang out.
By a cruel twist of fate, he found himself alone with Sunny one day, watching the same sappy movie that had played the day he first grew lovesick. They hadn't intentionally put it on; Sunny had been playing a game and Basil had been listening to music, and the television had gone through two dramas before the movie began. Basil let it play, figuring changing the channel would just draw more attention to the fact that the movie was on, and that it was stupid and romantic, and that Basil wanted to do stupid, romantic things with Sunny all the time. He eventually got tired of pretending to be paying attention to the music coming from his earbuds and took them out. He sat on the floor in front of the couch, grimacing at the cheesy dialogue and unlikely plot twists. He only knew Sunny was also watching when he slipped from the couch to the floor, his game left paused.
A kissing scene was moments away. Basil thought he might die. Not just of embarrassment, but from the knotted feeling in his throat suffocating him. That was something new to worry about, that the flowers inside him might actually kill him instead of just reminding him of all he wanted and lacked. In the movie, the female lead wrapped her arms around the man who'd just proposed to her. It was Christmas, of course, and there were fireworks, of course, because in this movie, the universe itself wanted these two to get together. Even though they weren't real people, Basil wondered if they knew how lucky they were.
And then Sunny was close to him. Much closer than before. Their faces were barely an inch apart when Sunny asked, “You want to do this?”
Basil turned away, face flushing. No, he didn't, not if Sunny was going to mock him like that, knowing very well how he felt. It wasn't like Sunny to make fun of Basil. It was such a shocking betrayal of trust that it took Basil a moment to realize it hadn't happened.
Sunny was being serious. It was a serious, thoughtful inquiry.
“It doesn't matter,” Basil mumbled. Then, “I'm sorry.”
Sunny drew back. The actress and actor kissed. The credits played. Sunny nodded goodbye and left.
viii.
Life was cyclical. A month later, he and Sunny were at the park again, wearing handmade flower crowns again, holding hands again. Unease and adoration, bitterness and tenderness constantly warred within Basil. Sunny's face was a blank mask most of the time, but Basil knew he felt plenty strongly inside. There were subtle cues, like Sunny remembering all of Basil's favorite wildflowers and making sure to choose them when crafting a flower crown, or Sunny avoiding the ice cream cart like Aubrey and Kim were sure to be there flirting.
He kept testing the boundaries of their friendship, and Basil couldn't decide if it was wonderful, infuriating, or just confusing as hell. Was he nothing more than an outlet for Sunny's own unanswered feelings? He would lay his head on Basil's lap, but stare up at him instead of playing a game. He would sometimes intertwine their fingers, instead of just cupping their hands together.
Basil had never liked that childish game of plucking petals off flowers to predict someone else's romantic interest. It was such a thoughtless waste. But he found himself lightly tapping the petals of the flowers in his room, trying not to think of their mirror images growing inside him, and thought not he loves me, he loves me not, but he'll love me someday, he'll never love me.
The good thing was, he never had to end on he'll never love me. If he did, he would cough up one more petal, and the game would continue.
ix.
Basil felt a little mean going to the pier, but he needed to be alone, and the secluded pond in the park was the best place for that. It was a hidden paradise, but one he and his friends had stopped using since that day Sunny had nearly drowned and Mari had saved him before anyone else could react. Sunny wouldn't return to a place with such a bad memory attached.
It was a difficult day for Basil. Prom wasn't far away, and he'd spent the morning responding to Aubrey's texted pictures of potential outfits. She and Kim were still going strong, and even Kel had a date, someone from the girls' basketball team. Hero and Mari reminisced openly about their own prom memories, how they'd danced to every single song.
Basil imagined himself and Sunny at the dance, standing in different corners as they watched the smitten couples filling the decorated gym. It hurt enough that Basil had come to the pond and tried to quieten his thoughts by focusing on the gentle ripples caused by dancing insects and floating leaves.
He'd been watching a leaf boat below his feet for several minutes when a soft thump got his attention. He looked around and his eyes widened. “Sunny?”
Sunny was standing with one tentative foot on the pier. He didn't look happy at all to be there, but he took another step, then another, walking securely down the center of the pier, as far from the edges as possible. But he froze halfway to Basil, seeming unable to move either forward or back.
“It's okay,” Basil encouraged him. He gave Sunny a soft smile. “It's not as scary as you think.”
Slowly, Sunny took another step, then sat down. He hadn't made it to the end of the pier, but he'd come close. Basil turned back to the water. Sunny was completely silent and Basil couldn't see his reflection where he sat, but his presence was tangible and Basil found himself comforted by it, despite his original reason for coming to the pond. Apparently, avoiding Sunny hadn't been what he really wanted.
After another minute or two passed, Basil felt something press against his back. Without turning around, he reached behind and took a thin, glossy square from Sunny's cold hand. When he looked at it, he was surprised to find it was a picture he'd taken years ago. It probably came from one of the many photo albums he'd gifted Sunny and Mari. The picture showed their group of friends and a huge pile of orange and brown leaves Hero had just finished helping his dad rake together. Basil had taken the picture at the perfect moment: Kel was in the air, hurtling toward all that hard work and about to make a mess of the neatly swept yard. Aubrey was smiling at a rabbit in the background. Mari was unfolding a blanket, preparing for a picnic. And Sunny was looking at none of that. He was watching Basil behind the camera, the only one not in the shot. Sunny never posed for pictures, so it wasn't that, but sometimes he did watch Basil take them.
He was trying to figure out why Sunny had handed him this particular photograph when another was pressed against his back. Again, Basil took it and studied its contents. This one had been taken a season later and was one of those rare pictures Basil himself was in; he must've given the camera to Aubrey or Kel, since neither of them could be seen. They were at Sunny and Mari's house, drinking hot cocoa in front of the blazing fireplace. He and Sunny sat shoulder to shoulder, mugs in hand, a single blanket wrapped around them both. Basil was beaming. Sunny looked content, which was like beaming for him.
Another photograph: the day Aubrey had decided they should try chalk art, and they'd spent an entire afternoon turning the sidewalk in front of Kel and Hero's home into a comic strip. Each square of pavement became a frame in the comic, which Basil vaguely recalled was about a superhero who could make plants grow to humongous size, and was using this power to end world hunger. He blushed, remembering how obviously the design had been based on him. He'd already been obsessed with gardening at that age. The final panel of the comic, the one most visible in the photograph, was Sunny's handiwork. He'd drawn a figure resembling himself next to the superhero. Their characters were holding hands.
Another: Basil and Sunny enjoying hot cocoa again, but this time from the same mug. There hadn't been enough clean, so they'd ended up having to share. Neither had minded.
More and more came, until Basil's hands were full of precious memories. He was beginning to understand. Sunny often struggled with words, so he was speaking through images. When there were no more touches to his back, Basil turned around and found Sunny was holding a photo album open, showing him all the blank pages at the end.
Ample space for creating new memories.
Basil's heart pounded. He was afraid to let his guard down, to get his hopes up. There were a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but suddenly he realized something.
He hadn't coughed once since Sunny had appeared. There wasn't a hint of pain in his chest.
Aubrey had loved Sunny once. Sunny had loved her even longer. But time had passed and everyone's feelings had changed- except for Basil's. He was still head over heels for his closest childhood friend.
“Do you mean it?” he whispered.
Sunny nodded, and Basil half-scrambled on his knees until he was close enough to fling his arms around Sunny, hugging him with all the photos still clenched in his fists. He caught himself and sat back so he and Sunny could replace the photos next to their proper captions, all written in Basil's tiny print. He didn't want any of them to get bent.
Plus, he could tell Sunny really, really wanted them to be done with the pier. As soon as the last picture was back in the album, Basil took his hand and they walked back to grassy land.
Spring had settled in. A full year had passed since Basil had first coughed up petals. Bees responded to the invitation of the fragrant flowers blossoming all around them, humming as they gathered pollen. Butterflies competed with the flowers to be the brightest colors in the park. Birds kept the slender branches above their heads in constant motion as they flew from one tree to the next. There was life everywhere, and life inside Basil, but not the unwanted kind anymore. What bloomed inside him now was the boundless, weightless feeling of mutual love.
They stayed in the park the rest of the day, testing the boundaries of their friendship in brand-new ways.