Bloom Syndrome

The feeling of my clothes getting soaked and clinging to my body was unpleasant. I pressed my lips together and got in the car.

I could see Damien's eyes constantly stealing glances at me through the reflection in the rearview mirror, lingering on my drenched shirt that vaguely revealed my skin underneath.

I parted my lips slightly and spat venomously, "Mr. Gray, enjoying the view?"

He looked at me through the rearview mirror. "Absolutely."

"Really?" I chuckled lightly. "Take one more look and I'll gouge your eyes out."

"You're just as sharp-tongued as ever, Mr. Cross." Damien did not seem to care about my threat as he drove me home.

"See you later, Felix."

The way he said my name carried infinite malice and suggestiveness. I got out of the car and walked away without looking back.

The next day, I came down with a fever.

Perhaps it was because I got caught in the rain. I woke up early in the morning feeling awful all over, burning up so badly that I was delirious. I called in sick, planning to rest for the day. That was when my phone buzzed with a message.

Damien the Idiot had sent a text: [You sick?]

[Are you okay? Get some rest. I'll come check on you tonight.]

I only glanced at the messages once before falling into a deep sleep due to the medication-induced drowsiness. I slept until evening. I was feeling somewhat better when I suddenly heard knocking at the door.

I opened the door, still looking sick. "Who is it?"

Damien the Idiot... No, Damien was carrying a box of something. Seeing me open the door, he tried to push his way in.

"You're not welcome here." I was about to close the door, but due to my lack of strength, he forced it open and entered.

"Felix, you shouldn't be so heartless." He smiled. "I'm just concerned about you."

I should never have let him drive me home, as that had exposed my address. I pressed my lips together, feeling even more irritated due to my physical discomfort.

"Fine, do whatever you want. I have a bit of a fever and feel unwell. I'm worried about infecting you."

He smiled, completely unconcerned as he was about to walk into the room. I had no choice but to close the door. Then, I casually poured him a glass of water and was about to return to my room to rest when I suddenly felt severe throat discomfort.

I immediately rushed to the bathroom and coughed desperately over the sink until my throat hurt. Blood-streaked white flowers spewed from my throat, and my already weak body became so limp that I nearly collapsed to my knees.

I clutched my neck while gasping for air, using all my strength to hold onto the counter to keep myself from sliding down. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

When I was finally feeling a bit better, I turned on the faucet to wash the flowers down the drain and splashed water on my face.

The person in the mirror had reddened eyes, glistening lips, and flushed cheeks from the severe coughing and lack of oxygen. It created a suggestive appearance, but I just pressed my lips together in thought.

The coughing was getting worse. With less than a month and a half left, if I could not get a kiss from someone whose heart resonated with mine, I would die.

I coughed up the last flower and wrapped it in tissue. I had not even had time to put my mask back on when someone else burst into the bathroom.

It was Damien.

I frowned and stepped past him, planning to leave. His nostrils flared as his expression turned strange. He teased me, "Mr. Cross, do you have such strong urges?"

I frowned deeply. "What are you talking about? Move aside, I have things to do."

His gaze froze the moment he saw my face clearly, then he looked at the scrunched-up tissue paper. His expression instantly darkened considerably, and he even locked the bathroom door.

"What are you doing?" I frowned as I demanded, my body instinctively backing away.

He let out a low chuckle as he kept approaching. My body was forced against the sink, with my upper body leaning backward.

Damien reached out and pressed his hand against my mouth. "So, not only are you unsatisfied, but you're into kinky stuff too."

"I'll say this one more time—I don't understand what you're talking about. Please let me go." My voice was weak from illness but ice-cold, and I looked at him with an icy glare.

"You like that stuff so much?" He leaned closer, his gaze dark as he took in the scent of the Bradford pear blossoms.

"Do you usually keep it in your mouth when you go out? Do you like that taste so much? That smell I caught before... It was from some guy, wasn't it? I was wondering why you've been wearing a mask and coughing lately, even touching your neck from time to time."

His hand moved to my neck, loosely gripping it as if about to tighten. He carried a dangerous air around him at this moment.

He narrowed his eyes. "Whose is it? Is it your secret boyfriend? Marcus? Or maybe Liam? Hmm? Speak up."

My expression darkened. "Shut up! Who's keeping anything in their mouth? Let me go!"

"Then, why does your mouth smell like that?" He inhaled the scent of those Bradford pear blossoms.

"Felix," he said with a smile. "Since you like it so much, why don't you try mine instead?"