Title: Life as a persimmon
Fandom: The Time of Fever/Unintentional Love Story
Rating: Teen
Length: 1373 words
Notes: Angst, The Shadow of Past Trauma, Internalized Homophobia, Fantasies. CNTW. Many thanks to mergatrude for last-minute read-through!
Summary: He practically sleepwalks out the main door. No one stops him. Why would they? He’s Kim Donghee, star pupil, responsible and studious with perfect attendance. He doesn’t cause trouble. He never defies authority. Until ten minutes ago, that’s who he was. Now, he’s the boy who kissed Go Hotae.



Donghee’s body feels like one giant pulse keeping time with the universe. He can’t stop brushing his finger over his lips, testing their sensitivity, reliving the last few minutes. Lost in the incredible fact of having kissed Hotae. It’s so improbable an occurrence that there’s no room for guilt or regret or any other feeling. So improbable that maybe it didn’t actually happen at all. Could he have imagined it?

The rhythm of his body says not. Surely a hallucination wouldn’t stir him like this, trigger this wonder, this terrible nameless ache he doesn’t know what to do with. No, it definitely happened.

It happened, but Hotae didn’t mean it; he’s an athlete, of course he thinks the proper way to learn a skill is demonstration and practice. Of course he’d want to be experienced for his new girlfriend. If it was more than that, if he’d seen it as a real kiss, would he have asked outright? Would he have called Donghee hyung and used formal speech? Of course not.

But for Donghee, all he can think is I kissed Hotae. His school desk is a distant, insubstantial blur. Even the chair he’s sitting on feels lightyears away. There’s no chance he’s going to be able to concentrate on physics right now. He needs to get out of here. Dazed, distracted, he shoves his books into his bag.

“Where are you going? Class is starting soon.”

But Donghee’s already at the door, his heart already far beyond the boundaries of school. He doesn’t turn back.


*


He practically sleepwalks out the main door. No one stops him. Why would they? He’s Kim Donghee, star pupil, responsible and studious with perfect attendance. He doesn’t cause trouble. He never defies authority. Until ten minutes ago, that’s who he was. Now, he’s the boy who kissed Go Hotae.

Just one kiss, and he might have ruined his whole life. There are so many ways this could end in misery and disaster.

Not that Hotae will tell anyone. Hotae had been the one to ask—all right, not for a kiss exactly. Tuition isn’t the same as real kissing. But he’d asked, and he’d kissed back. The sense memory of it—the faint scent of swimming pool, the taste and pressure of Hotae’s mouth, and the heat radiating from his tall body—he’s so tall, Donghee had had to tilt his face up to meet his lips. And Hotae’s unsteady breathing afterwards. It all fills Donghee’s senses, more real than the road he’s walking down.

And the lurch of horror. Don’t forget that, Kim Donghee. When that tinkling alarm had started up, Donghee had come to his senses with a sickening jolt, sure that now Hotae would know how he felt. And how could Donghee bear that? To be the object of Hotae’s disgust?

A few weeks ago, Donghee had run his fingers lightly over Hotae’s inner wrist to wipe away a trickle of persimmon juice. Hotae had sworn angrily and stormed off, saying the fruit tasted awful. Donghee can never forget that.

Sure, since then Hotae had patched him up on his birthday and been kind when Donghee cried on his shoulder. He isn’t a bad kid, and they’re friends. But in that moment with the persimmon, Hotae’s reaction to his touch had said it all: don’t cross the line.

So after the kiss, Donghee had quickly told Hotae to go to class, cutting off anything he might say. And he’d fled.

Remembering the persimmon should sour this morning. He should worry about his parents’ reaction, and Imo, and Hotae’s new girlfriend whoever she is. But in this stolen freedom, away from the endless task of filling his head with schoolwork, on this sunny empty road, Donghee doesn’t want to think about the real world. Can’t he have some self-indulgence? He lets himself wallow. Lets the memory swell and fill his senses.

He reaches the railway track, and it’s as if Hotae is walking two paces behind, talking nonsense like he so often does. Vivid as a ghost. So Donghee veers off up the hill, into the trees. He needs privacy. He needs his heart to calm the hell down. It was just one kiss—not even his first.

(His first had been even more disastrous: Donghee’s hands shaking, Lee Seokjin almost hyperventilating, a curious, clumsy clash of mouths and teeth, and then Seokjin’s brother bursting in, running to tell Seokjin’s mum… Okay, after that, Donghee deserves a do-over.)

It’s cooler among the trees. Donghee pulls his blazer shut, feels the pressure like a warm arm slung across his shoulders, and he stops. It’s still easy to imagine Hotae here with him. They’re together all the time, of course it’s natural to think of him. To see his bright, mischievous smile. To imagine him backing Donghee against this tree trunk, pinning him here and leaning in—

A sound like a whimper escapes Donghee. But he’s going to have to face reality soon enough. Why can’t he have this first? In the history of the world, has a fantasy ever hurt anyone?

Hotae’s hand closing on his wrist, holding him against the tree’s rough bark. Hotae’s other hand taking Donghee’s chin just as Donghee had shown him, urging his face up. Hotae’s gaze hot and questioning, the grin fading. His mouth. Another kiss, fierce, earnest, blazing, and Hotae’s body pushing against him, Hotae’s knee fitting between Donghee’s legs. Donghee wrapping his arms around Hotae’s waist, opening, surrendering.

Donghee slides to the ground, into the fallen leaves and scrubby grass, and pulls his knees up as well as he can. He’s so turned on he can’t breathe. If Hotae were actually here, he might even beg for his touch, for some relief. This is terrible.

And then he actually feels Hotae crouching next to him, squeezing his shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s okay, let me—”

“What?” Donghee says aloud. It means a dozen different things: Let you what? What the hell are you doing here? What is it you want from me? What is happening? What??... But with his own voice hanging in the air, he knows this Hotae isn’t real.

He really is going crazy.

“This was stupid. Sorry,” says the hallucination. “I’m not like that. I’m not like you.” Hotae vanishes, and Donghee is alone again.

Because that’s what would happen, right? If Donghee took the kiss seriously, tried to make something of it, Hotae would swear and storm off, and Imo would find out and tell Donghee’s mother, and the world would come crashing down. Again.

Be good, his mother had told him the day before Hotae and Imo returned to Gangneung. Your imo has had a difficult time lately. So just study hard and help out as much as you can. I know I can count on you. He can still see the pinched lines around her eyes, the tremble in her lips.

Donghee groans into his knees, then swears. Fuck! Why is he like this? Why is it so hard to look at Hotae and just see a young, innocent little brother? Why is he this worked up about one stupid—beautiful, perfect—kiss?

Remembers the persimmon, he tells himself, and thinking of Hotae’s anger at that slight touch, his arousal finally starts to cool. His head clears a little. The real world comes into focus.

The facts are these:

• It doesn’t matter how he feels.
• He can’t get Hotae mixed up in his mess. Even if Hotae wanted him to, it’s not an option.
• His mess has to stay buried at least until he gets to college. (After that, well, he’ll figure it out. Donghee might be alone in Gangneung, but he can’t be the only gay person in Gangwon-Do.)
• Hotae likes girls. And after losing his father, he needs an older brother, not someone creepily crushing on him.
• Donghee needs to focus on his studies.

He moves away from the tree and flops onto his back. Framed by the branches, the sky is clear and bright, perfectly masking the vast, pulsing emptiness of space. He can do this. He can play it cool and friendly. And if he happens to sketch Hotae sometimes, well, it doesn’t hurt anyone. No one need ever know.



END