Chapter Text
The lion lounged on the sill of the Savanaclaw window, his thoughts, not for the first time, straying towards the target of fascination. Tales from his home would say that each star was the soul of a king looking down on their descendants and domains even in death. Even though Leona knew better—that these beings were long-distant (perhaps even long-dead) balls of gas—even he was not immune to the romanticism inherent in these stories.
This night, along with the past few nights, Leona’s thoughts trailed towards a different kind of star. For some unfathomable reason, he didn’t want to stop puzzling over his...well, he wasn’t quite sure what the Pomfiore housewarden was to him. “Frenemies” would be the most simplified way to call their relationship. The Seven knew how many times Leona and that haughty, pompous, stuck-up nag butted heads throughout the years. Vil just loved to nitpick everything Leona did: Leona’s posture, how he wore his school uniform, his behavior in class, among many insignificant little nothings. Likewise, nothing brought Leona greater pleasure than riling up his normally dignified and poised fellow housewarden to a sputtering fury with a few gestures and insinuations.
Really, there were few at Night Raven College who Leona trusted or whose company he enjoyed than this infuriating classmate of his. Even Leona couldn’t deny that Vil was sharp, talented, ambitious, determined, dependable, and even fun when he wanted to be. There was a reason the two of them depended on the other to step up and be responsible when the underclassmen were in a bind. There was a reason Leona trusted Vil with the important tasks he wouldn’t give anyone else.
Leona was deeply, crushingly, and stupidly in love with Vil Schoenheit.
Unfortunately.
Leona had known Vil was special when they’d first met two years before. Leona had wanted to act tough towards the prissy Pomefiore freshman who’d unknowingly intruded on Leona’s favorite napping spot and had been too stubborn and arrogant to back down from Leona’s threats. Leona’d tried to teach Vil a lesson with a punch to the gut—not enough to seriously injure the freshman, just enough to knock the wind out of him—only for Vil to sidestep his attack, and Leona’d found that he had to dodge a near-perfect kick to the face. This little spat had led to a semi-regular sparring session between the two of them in the fields. Throughout the years, Leona had watched Vil push himself to become a great magician despite not having little magical training outside of Night Raven College. No matter how vicious or catty the two of them were, there was always respect, perhaps even affection between the two of them. Leona loved Vil’s drive and ambition. Leona loved how Vil never backed down from him. Leona loved how Vil sang as he tended his herbs in the botanical garden.
It was a damn shame that Leona couldn’t think of a single reason the two of them would ever get together. Leona could never see Vil ever returning his feelings. The model had made it clear many times that he thought Leona nothing more than a pretty face.
And perhaps there was some truth to that, thanks to Leona’s position as second son. No matter how hard he worked or how great he was at many things, none of it would ever matter, not for him. Leona would always be second best, and Vil never went for second best, not if he wanted to be “fairest of them all”.
Nothing more than a pretty face. Vil may as well have been right about that.
Honestly, Leona wasn’t surprised. As the second son of the king, he was used to everything that could possibly matter be always outside his reach: the Sunset Savanna throne, the respect of his people, the heart of the most beautiful man in Twisted Wonderland…
Therefore, Leona reacted to this realization that Vil would never love him back not with sorrow or despair, but with resigned acceptance.
Leona’s throat started acting up again. He also had this damn cough to deal with. It’d started this morning and kept going on and off throughout the day. At first, Leona hadn’t minded—just another excuse to skip class and stay in bed—but nothing he did could make it stop. For whatever reason, none of the cough medicines he’d tried seemed to work, and his near-constant fits interfered with any sleep he tried to get. It made for a miserable day.
This coughing fit was the worst he’s experienced yet. His throat felt like it was made of dust as his lungs worked overtime to hack up whatever had been building up inside them all day. Leona swung his legs back down inside his room and brought his hand to his mouth as he hacked and whooped. After all this, he expected to spit up a crapton of mucus. What came out instead was surprisingly dry and feathery and smelled like almonds and orchids.
Leona looked down at his hand and found...flower petals?
“The Hanahaki disease?!” Leona asked incredulously. He was in a hospital room. After trying to sleep off this really weird cough the night before and waking up the next morning with more flower petals on his pillow, Leona had tried to go down to the school infirmary to see what was wrong, only for the nurse to grow a little pale and summon Professor Crewel and Headmage Crowley. After Leona had explained to them the symptoms, the magical science professor and the headmage looked at one another and schlepped their student to the hospital in town.
The doctor nodded his head gravely. The results of Leona’s x-ray were displayed on a projector. A small flower had taken root at the bottom of each of his lungs. The bloom and the stem looked so small and delicate, but the roots that were attached to his lungs looked concerning.
“It is an incredibly rare, and unfortunately terminal illness that has a very slim chance of expressing itself when someone feels unrequited love,” the doctor explained. “Sadly, there is no cure for this disease.”
“This is bullshit,” Leona exclaimed. “Can’t you just cut it out of me?”
“That is not possible, I’m afraid,” the doctor answered. “We currently have no way of removing the infection without killing the host. Every single attempt has been fatal.”
Terminal. Fatal. No cure.
Fuck.
“How long?” Leona asked.
The doctor smiled bitterly. “No one has survived longer than a month.”
“Why?” Leona asked. “Why do I gotta catch some bullshit disease? I live in a school where people get stupid crushes all the time. Why now? Why me?”
“I’m afraid we don’t know why some people catch it and others don’t,” the doctor responded, “even though people fall in unrequited love all the time, very few people will ever catch this disease.”
Leona was going to die. He was going to die because he was in love with his fucking frenemy.
He had another hacking fit. More of those stupid flower petals fell out of his mouth. They were disgustingly soft with a dark red-purple color and white base and still tasted of orchids and almonds.
“The only times victims have survived this disease is when the person they are pining for somehow falls for them back, though I do not recommend trying to push things,” the doctor continued sympathetically. “I’ve read of many cases where those afflicted will try to get their intended to fall in love with them to save their own lives. It almost never ends well.”
After Leona finished his coughing fit, the doctor prescribed some medicines in case Leona felt any nausea or pain and left the room so Leona could change out of his hospital gown. As soon as Leona changed into his school uniform, he stormed out towards the exit, only stopping when Dire Crowley approached him in the lobby.
“Mr. Kingscholar, I can only assume the worst has come to pass…?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, dear me,” Crowley wailed, wringing his hands. “Dear, dear me. To think a student of mine would catch such a horrible and life-ending disease. Throughout my tenure as headmage, even with all these young hearts running rampant, there has never been a single case until now. Worry not. Your kind-hearted headmage will make sure you have the best care possible.”
“Uh-huh.”
“The most important thing right now is that everyone knows that I did everything I could to help you.”
“Can I be excused from my classes?” Leona asked.
“Well, I mean, I suppose, given the circumstances, you could take a leave of absence until the disease...ends.”
“Great.” Leona stepped around the headmage and headed for the exit.
“Mr. Kingscholar,” Crowley called out to him. “A full Hanahaki flower is also a very rare and valuable reagent. You might want to consider donating…”
Leona was out the door.