endearingly incongruous

Hanahaki was still the same, even after a thousand years – most people saw their person, love (or tragedy?) at first sight and immediately felt those flowers bloom. They would slowly but surely creep through their respiratory system, wrapping around the lungs first then settling there in the stomach and, last, the heart. Eventually, the lover would have to make a decision between two choices. Confess to their love, which would either end in the two's happily after or plain and simple rejection. The other choice was to simply hole these feelings up in their chest, not speaking a single word until they finally collapsed with the final cough of a dozen blooms; the illness was, unfortunately, more fatal than not for most people.

He didn't think of himself as most people, though.

or: five times ambrosius coughs up flowers and one time he doesn't.