The Hanahaki Club: Episode 6
Episode 6: Two Can Keep a Secret, Part 1
So far…
The hanahaki support group met for the first time on Thursday evening in the Blue Room of the Fenway Community Centre. Now, it’s the day after.
Episode 6: Two Can Keep a Secret, Part 1
Taran
Finding an unoccupied table in a quiet corner of the library, Taran unpacked his sketchbook, pencil case and notepad, and then wriggled out of his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. He slumped into the seat, removed his cap and ruffled his hair before putting in his wireless earphones and scrolling for a playlist on his phone. He deliberately ignored the notification inviting him to the hanahaki group chat—no way was he accepting that—and checked his social media, mainly to procrastinate starting his work. It was hard to focus when his brain was consumed with inventing a good enough excuse to get out of the social plans he’d made for this evening.
When Kai had invited him to hang out, he’d automatically accepted without checking the details. And then he’d found out that, rather than just a boy’s night out, he had inadvertently agreed to a larger group hang-out with a bunch of girls too. Taran had nothing against girls—the opposite was true—but his crush was guaranteed to be there and whilst there was a part of him that desperately wanted to see her—to make her smile, hear her cute laugh, have her lean on his shoulder and gently tease him—he knew he would only be tormenting himself. Spending another evening in the friend-zone would be sticking yet another poison needle in his heart. Every encounter, every reminder that his feelings were one-sided and the person he wanted more than he’d ever wanted anyone in his life would never be his, was another stab in the soft tissue of the bloody, fragile organ. He could already feel all the places he’d been struck and was bleeding from, the poison that was spreading and tainting every moment he was with her and every moment he wasn’t. At this rate he’d die from the constant ache in his heart before the flowers in his lungs got him.
He had managed to avoid her this entire morning, which was no mean feat, and he intended to keep his distance until he’d figured out how to handle this awful, agonising situation. Should he tell Kai he was feeling sick? If he claimed a headache or something now, he could plausibly cancel later, once he was home from college. Or should he use family as an excuse? Say he had to help Gramps with something? Would Kai buy it?
Taran sighed to himself: he was turning into such a coward and he hated it. This bloody lovesickness wasn’t just destroying his health but his credibility and social life too. A gentle tickle started in his chest and he quickly covered his mouth. He coughed gingerly a couple of times, relieved when the tickle eased and no petals slid up his throat, and then flipped open his sketch book and took out the project sheet his teacher had handed out first period. He was in the middle of skim reading it when the chair next to him shifted, dragging against the thin carpet as a hand tugged on it. A figure was suddenly hovering at Taran’s elbow and he snapped his head up to find himself staring straight at the last person he wanted to see.
“Hey,” Merryn said. “Can I sit for a sec?”
Shit, Taran wanted to say. No. Go away.
Instead, he found himself unable to say anything as Merryn slid into the seat next to him, placed the book she was carrying—a monstrous hard back on twentieth century fashion—on her lap and gave an awkward little shrug of her shoulders.
Fashion student?
Taran eyed her critically, from the bright, teal clip in her warm chestnut hair, the grey-brown military style coat, the feathery, multi-coloured scarf hanging lose around her neck—fluffy and monstrous enough to cover most of whatever charity-shop-bargain knitwear she was no doubt wearing underneath—down to the frayed edge of her denim skirt, teal leggings and worn military boots.
Fashion student. Figures. What a cliché.
Taran pulled the earbud from his right ear but didn’t reach for his phone to mute his music, hoping this would discourage her from staying a nanosecond longer than necessary. Maybe he could get away with pretending he didn’t recognised her?
“You’re Taran, right?” Merryn said. “You were at the group last night?”
Oh, crap. “Yeah,” Taran admitted cautiously. He felt something tickle his lungs again and swallowed hard. What do you want?
“I’m Merryn.”
“I remember.” I thought I’d avoided this. How do I get rid of you?
Merryn smiled and there was something about it that halted the panic that was crawling up Taran’s spine. “Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I actually just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to go to the effort of avoiding me around college. What happens at hanahaki group stays at hanahaki group, right?”
Taran grimaced. “It doesn’t matter anyway, I’m not going back.”
Merryn raised her eyebrows. “You didn’t like it?”
“It’s not really my thing.”
“I guess being the only boy is kind of awkward.”
“It’s not that,” Taran lied. He cleared his throat to try to stave off the persistent flutter behind his ribcage. “It’s just not something I need.”
Merryn planted one elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “What are you going to do instead?” she asked. “Are you going to have the op?”
None of your bloody business. “I dunno yet. But I’ll figure it out myself.” I don’t see how sitting in a room with a bunch of losers every week is going to help.
Merryn smiled again. “Isn’t it reassuring though, knowing you’re not the only ‘loser’ out there?”
Taran narrowed his eyes as he stared back at her for a second—did he accidentally say that last thought out loud? Or did she have a flippin’ mind-reading ability?—and then quickly put his hand to his mouth as his chest heaved suddenly and he coughed hard. He felt a clump of something soft and slimy slide up his throat and into his mouth and seriously contemplated for a second whether he should swallow it again. He glanced up at Merryn, unable to stop the heat spreading in his cheeks, and was surprised when she held out a tissue to him without saying anything.
Taran took the offered tissue, looked around quickly to check no one else was looking in their direction, and spat the petals into the tissue. “Shit.”
“Sucks, doesn’t it?” Merryn said. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” Please leave me alone.
Merryn rose to her feet, adjusted her bag on her shoulder and hugged the book to her chest. “I’m not going to tell anyone about the hanahaki group,” she said. “It’s not like I want anyone knowing either. And I promise to leave you alone.” She gave him a smile and half-shrug. “But if you change your mind and want to talk to someone who gets it, I spend most of my time in the textile workrooms.” She nodded in a brief gesture of goodbye and headed to the self-checkout machines.
Taran watched her go and then put the earbud back in his right ear and picked up his pencil. He tapped the table top for a moment and then impulsively picked up his phone and opened up the group chat invitation. His thumb hovered over the decline button for a long moment, and then he put the phone down again and picked up his worksheet. He’d do it later.
At least he could now relax knowing that Merryn wasn’t going to bother him; he should probably be grateful that she’d taken the initiative to establish clear boundaries between them. That was one less person to hide from. Now he just needed to figure out how to manage his social life. But there was no way in hell he was going to talk to anyone—let alone a stranger—about his situation, this disease or his crush. It was too humiliating, too shameful. Never mind the heartache or the hanahaki—the guilt would probably choke him first. He had to find a way to get over this dumb lovesickness, and he would figure it out on his own, without ever having to reveal the identity of the object of these unbearable feelings. That was the one secret he was determined to keep: no one would ever know who he was suffering hanahaki for—there was no way anyone wouldn’t judge and condemn him if they knew. It was a secret he’d take to the grave rather than ever spill his guts over.
Next time: Episode 7—Two Can Keep a Secret, Part 2
Teaser:
Remi held the bin on her lap and retched into it until she had projected half a withered flower from between her lips. She coughed a couple more times and a few loose petals followed, sticking on her tongue and mouth until she scrapped them out with her fingers and discarded them in the bin.
“Shoot,” she sighed.
“Bloody hell,” a voice said from the doorway. “Have you got hanahaki?”
The Hanahaki Club Index
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Author’s Notes:
Time to place your bets on who Taran’s crush is.
Next week: Episode 7—Two Can Keep a Secret, Part 2
PJ
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Taran has a crush on Kai's girlfriend?