Work Text:
Rick sighed as he stared at the petals on his work bench. Red tulips with pink peonies. True romantic love and passion, with guilt and shame. The undeniable proof his Morty had been deeply in love with someone who made him ashamed for around a year at least, and hadn’t been reciprocated. The undeniable proof he would loose his sidekick because some heartless bitch didn’t love him. Why did he have to go and get the only disease even he couldn’t cure? Try as he might, the solution to this problem seemed beyond his reach.
The whole family had been in shock when the petals first came. Morty had had a cough for a few days but everything seemed normal otherwise, and it was cold season anyway. But when a petal had fallen from his mouth after a particularly rough coughing fit, everyone had known right away — Morty was doomed. It was a slow, cruel disease. The pain of falling in love, deep, all consuming love, with someone who didn’t love you back and around a year with no other symptoms. Then coughing up a few petals — petals of flowers that, for some unexplainable reason, corresponded to the language of flowers in relation to the feelings towards the person. After a few months of the petals getting more and more plentiful, blood would mix in with it. And then one only had a few weeks to live. There was no known treatment, other than the unlikely event of falling out of love or being corresponded.
Meanwhile, Morty was huddled on the couch, feeling sickly, tired, and out of breath, as he always did now. He’d gotten out of school now that there wasn’t really a point anymore and spent his days watching interdimensional cable. He wasn’t sure what was worse - the sickness itself, how bored he was constantly, loving someone who didn’t love him back, falling in love with that person out of everyone, or the pity filled looks he kept getting from his family. He’d already accepted impending death. At least it was a simple solution to his problems. But the wait was a hassle.
Morty could feel his mom's eyes on him, staring sadly. She was drinking more now and he felt guilty for it. Probably shouldn't, not like he chose to fall in love with someone who'd never like him back, but he did. He felt the question on the tip of her lips. “Who is it?” But he knew answering wouldn't make anyone feel better, on the contrary, so he kept the secret to himself. His sister too resented him for it, he knew. But he'd rather her resent than be disgusted at him. In Rick’s case, he didn't know what the old man thought. He'd receded into his study in the garage ever since this had started and the family barely saw him any more. He was unable to accept there existed a disease in this world even he could not cure, and probably annoyed his own grandson would succumb to something as senseless as “love”.
Days went on and on like this. Morty coughed and watched TV. Beth worked and drank and worried, she became even more of a distant mother - staying late at work to avoid dealing with home. Summer didn't make fun of her brother anymore and spent time at home on Friday nights. Jerry made himself useful around the house and turned out to be a great nurse. Rick hid away in the garage and drank and did experiments with less and less hope in their results.
That is, until blood started spilling out with the petals. Something shifted in the family then. Rick, especially, must have accepted he had little time left, and started hanging around, watching TV on the couch with Morty and Summer, participating in family meals. Acting as if everything was normal and ok, and only acknowledging the illness by not inviting Morty to adventures (not that he was going on any himself, the portal gun was getting dusty).
As time went on and the disease progressed, the family changed along with it. Beth became even more of a distant mother — staying late at work to avoid dealing with home —, Summer didn't make fun of her brother anymore and spent time at home on Friday nights, Jerry made himself useful around the house and turned out to be a great nurse, and Rick had updated from occasionally watching TV with Morty to never leaving his side. Part of Morty was glad, finally getting love and affection from most of his family.
One day, Morty seemingly started to get in remission. He’d been puking more blood than flowers lately, but now he was back to just coughing up a few petals, and there were less of them everyday. Beth, Jerry, and Summer were overjoyed. They kept smiling and laughing and hugging Morty and talking about how thankful they were… Morty though seemed out of it. Panicked, almost. Of course, the family was way too busy commemorating to even notice, or think about how this had happened. Well, except for Rick. He knew there were only two ways Hanahaki could go away - you fall out of love, or your beloved falls in love with you, and the first was exceedingly improbable. But if someone had fallen in love with Morty now, when he barely left the house… it had to be someone here. And if Morty loved that person, then that explained the pink peonies. Unfortunately, Morty reached the same conclusion, and that did nothing good to him. He started getting worse again, except it was clearly mostly pink peonies. Guilt and shame were literally consuming him from the inside, and though the love refused to go away, it was overshadowed by its own meaning.
One day, when Beth was at work, Summer in school, and Jerry distracted by something or other, Rick pulled Morty into the garage to talk to him.
- So you’re getting better.
- Yeah…
- I’m glad.
- O-ok? T-thanks I guess.
- Someone loves you back th-then.
- I wish they didn’t.
At this, Rick locked the door and then sat in the chair facing Morty.
- That’s your problem isn’t it. It’s not actually the love or the person you want that’s the problem. It’s how you feel about, about it. And I need my helper back for adventures, so I’m going to cure you.
Morty turned his eyes away rather than responding.
- You know, incest was actually well accepted for thousands of years. As was hebephilia. These morals you’re feeling the weight of are just the latest western human fa-fad, they’ll go away soon enough. They don’t make your feelings wrong.
- The fuck is hebephilia?
- Attraction to young adolescents, like you. No, it’s not pedophilia, that’s for pre-pubescent kids and I’ve seen your pubes. Yes, the definition of words matters.
- So it’s a different name but still wrong. G-great. It’s not like I even can have a relationship w-with… that person. So stop trying to do whatever it is you’re trying to do.
- Are you sure about that? You don’t think accepting your feelings and mine is worth it when it’ll save you from death? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to admit I love someone?? It’s a stupid feeling Morty. It’s pheromones tricking us. I don’t, don't want it. And yet, here I am, admitting I’m in love. So get over your guilt and stay alive. And anyway it’s not wrong, not if it’ll make you happy and you know what you’re doing. People just don’t have the brains to know right from wrong.
- I am alive, Morty said in a low voice as he got up and left the room.
They didn’t speak after that. Rick was a mix of frustrated and angry and sad and oh so worried, and Morty felt mainly disgust - at himself, but mostly at Rick. How could the old man dare fall in love with him? Ok, it wasn't like he'd chosen to fall in love with his own grandpa, and it's not really cool to blame people for things they have no control over, but it was still worse for him right? I mean, he was the grown up, so he had to take the blame. Right?
Rick was running out of ideas. He'd thought about simply forcing himself on the boy to get things over and done with but he figured that wouldn't help the whole “this is wrong” thing. So he had to find another angle.
- L-look, no one chooses who they fall in love with. It can't be controlled, it's irrational, it's annoying, it hurts, people centre their lives around it when it shouldn't matter so much, that's probably why I hate it. But it means you can't be blamed for it. Nor can anyone else. Including me. And it's not fair for you to die because society taught you that feelings can be bad. Feelings don't hurt other people Morty. They don't dictate your actions. Only influence them a bit. Look, I see you don't seem convinced, but we don't even need to be in a relationship if you don't want to. Just go back to how we were before. And you forgive yourself and accept our feelings and we'll just wait until we fall out of love. And you don't die.
- I guess I don't really have a-a choice but accept it eventually, Morty sighed. Or be miserable, I guess. I don’t want to though. And I think you’re gross.
- Clearly you don’t. You’ll see, it’ll get better with time. You just have to learn not to hate yourself.
- That’s rich coming from you lol
- Lol?
- Laughing out loud. Oldie.
It took a while, but Morty settled down, started talking to Rick a bit more normally, and as he accepted the situation he choked on less and less flowers.
Years later, it would only be a petal once every few weeks, and although there was still that bit of guilt and shame, Morty was happy. And so was Rick.