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It's not the first time this has happened. In fact, it's happened like clockwork about this time of year every year since about 1993. Forget the Farmer's Almanac (does anyone read that anymore? Does anyone even know what that is anymore?), forget the melting of snow, the equinox, whatever else – Jay knows it's really spring when he starts to cough up flower petals.
Usually, he’s able to predict it coming and hide away for a few weeks accordingly. Today though, he's in the living room putting some quality time into Ogre Battle 64 when…
“Yo, are you gonna barf or something?”
Jay tries to cover up the second cough, smaller and quieter than the first one but still audible. “No, man, it's just these seasonal allergies, you know–” Unfortunately, this last word is cut off by another cough, and out comes a f*cking camellia.
Matt stares.
Jay stares.
Jared zooms in on it, the bastard.
“Yo what the fuck, Jay.”
“It's allergies,” Jay says dumbly, before sneezing up a flurry of baby's breath.
“You’re pining?”
“Allergies-”
“You’re on that faggot shit, man.”
“It's not faggot sh*t, Matt,” Jay lies, “I told you it's allergies.” A flurry of petals ends up on his shirt.
“Yeah, and it's gay as fuck to have allergies.”
“That doesn't even make sense.”
“Oh, now the guy who can't tell the difference between Hanahaki and allergies is gonna tell me what doesn't make sense? Shut the fuck up.”
“Matt, drop it.”
“Alright man, whatever you say.” It's mercifully quiet for a long time. More specifically, it's quiet for about 45 seconds, which is a long time for Matt to be quiet. “Is this about Amelia?”
“Matt, I told you to drop it.”
Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, because Matt interprets it as a yes. “Look, I’m sorry she turned out to be a stripper, but you can't blame me for that. It's our parents’ fault, really, like I’m not responsible for what she does with her life. Like, if I was, I never would have let her date you. It's too weird, you know?”
“Matt, I swear to f*ck-” Jay’s sentence is cut off by him projectile sneezing a bouquet’s worth of yellow rose petals.
“Jesus, Bird, didn't anyone ever teach you to cover your face when you sneeze?” Jay gives Matt a withering look. “Alright bud. Put down the controller, take a rest. I’ll see if the drugstore has anything for your heartsick little bitch disease.”
Jay grumbles in response. “Thanks, asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah, quit sneezing or I’ll get a migraine.” Matt pulls a crumpled afghan from a corner of the couch and fights to wrap it around Jay while Jay smacks his hands and wriggles around. Finally satisfied, he sets out for the door. “Alright, don't die while I'm out. Love you.” As punctuation, he blows a kiss. Jay gags.
Matt barely reaches the bottom of the stairs before vomiting a stream of red and green carnations.
Every year it gets harder to hide.