#this is actually a crazy long snippet tbh but my google doc is 77 pages right now so like this is nothing in the grand scheme of things

[hourcat]

Oh, are you doing a trick or treat thing? I hope it's not too late for me to join in! Trick or Treat! ^_^

TINA!!!! trick or TREAT bestie <3 it is NEVER too late

for you...i am going to unearth my eternally-unfinished hanahaki au....dj x eli....my last ties to nfl rpf rn </3

“Hi,” Eli says, sounding exactly the same as he always does. Daniel can picture him exactly like this, perched at his kitchen counter or on his couch or back at Quest, one hand clutched at his knee. “You alright?”

Daniel wants to laugh even though nothing over the past six hours has been funny. What the fuck does Eli think he’s going to say? “You probably know the answer,” he says flatly. It’s like Eli is pouring lemon juice on his open wound, keeping him locked in this one moment of the worst night of his professional life. He loves Eli, loves him hopelessly and earnestly and against his better judgment every single day, but right now he just—he just needs Eli to leave him alone, just needs to get home and unwind and spit up some gnarly looking flowers into his toilet until the unease in his chest settles.

Eli chuckles humorlessly. “Yeah, I know.” He pauses. “Listen, I know you want to get out of there and everything—” he clears his throat, and even in this half-hearted irritation Daniel is feeling towards his mentor, the instinct to cling to whatever comes out of his mouth next is undeniable. “I just—I wanted to call and check in, and, y’know.” He clears his throat again. “Remind y’that I’ll always be here for you. You know?” He hesitates once more, although Daniel can’t fault him because, what? Any lingering frustration has dissolved in an instant. His head is practically spinning. “I’m in your corner, you can talk to me about anything. Especially—especially the football, since I’ve been around the block, but even outside of that—don’t let this eat you up, Danny.”

Danny.

The flowers inside him are thriving off of Eli’s words, how honest and gentle and kind they sound in his ear, he can tell. Daniel thought the cold of Green Bay had numbed everything inside of him but now it’s all fire inside, it’s every feeling all at once. “How am I supposed to do that?” He finally manages, voice coming out as a whisper. His throat feels scratchy with emotion—and with the greenery in him—and he knows it’s going to take a long time to recover from this, even with whatever Eli suggests to him next.

“Well, first, y’come talk to me. I’ve been there, I know exactly how y’feel—more than anyone else, I get it. And I know you, Daniel. I know how you work, how you prepare, and I know how you think. And you gotta know that this—” Daniel pictures him gesturing wildly, like he’s in front of a whiteboard drawing up plays. “—this ain’t your fault. I know you think it is, and y’re gonna keep thinking it is even though I’m tellin’ you it’s not, but it’s not.” There’s more emotion in his voice than Daniel has ever heard—passion, stress, understanding, care, kindness, all there littered in his words. “So you come talk to me, Danny, y’hear? I don’t care how often you need it, we can run it play by play ‘til I know you get it.”

Daniel doesn’t even realize he’s crying until it’s too late. “We just fell apart, E, I don’t—I just—” He can’t finish his sentence, grief seemingly closing his throat. I wasn’t good enough, how could I not have been good enough when everybody needed me most? He wants to say it. He wants to ask, and he really wants to keep listening to Eli tell him sweet (albeit untrue) things.

He wants to, but he can’t. Because it’s not grief that has him unable to breathe—it’s the Hanahaki. He coughs once, twice, to try and dislodge the blockage, but it seems like it’s bigger than it ever has been before, and it’s not—it’s not working—

“Daniel?” Eli asks, voice tinged in concern. If only he knew. “Daniel, what’s—are you alright?”

Daniel can’t answer. He keeps coughing, body desperately trying to purge the green from his body as he doubles over, but it just won’t budge. Again, again, again, back aching from the force, he coughs to clear his throat but nothing changes.

“Daniel?” Eli’s voice is fainter in his ear even though the phone hasn’t moved—or has it? The corners of his vision have begun to blur. He heave-coughs again, bending still further over to try and simplify the path for the blockage to tumble out into a mess on the wooden floor, but nothing comes up and he’s starting to get dizzy. The pain burning in his back is beginning to fade in time with the way his vision has started to lose focus. Is he still coughing? Daniel isn’t entirely sure. He’s not holding his phone anymore, either, which can’t be good, but he’s not sure where it went. Maybe he dropped it. I’ll just grab it, he thinks, and reaches out to feel for it, but the world spins and suddenly he’s on his back, staring up into the bright lights burning above him.

Like the stadium outside. Like the sun this morning. Like the light he used to hear about in church as a kid.

Daniel can’t hear anything anymore. Maybe his coughing spell has passed, he realizes hazily. It’s such an exhausting thing, to suffer from this kind of sickness—it always drains Daniel when he gets out from underneath the heavy foot of his Hanahaki. All it takes is a quick nap to right him, though—he’s so warm, it’s the perfect time to rest his eyes—