TTDOTO 3.4 The Past – Kiss

Twirling a pencil, Jae-rim grunted and stood up. A math problem had stumped him for thirty minutes. If it were impossibly hard, he’d have skipped it, but its near-solvable nature sparked his competitive streak.
Stretching, he left his room for the living room. A serene Sunday morning stillness hung over the house, the TV murmuring low, but the sofa was empty. The kitchen and narrow hallway showed no sign of Lee Jae-an.
Jae-an moved quietly, his actions subdued. Even on the sofa, where cushions or blankets might be mussed, his fastidious nature left no trace—everything in place.
Sometimes, like now, it felt like he’d vanished from the house, stirring an inexplicable unease in Jae-rim.
Only one place remained. Lifting the curtain to the balcony, he saw a familiar figure. Jae-an leaned against the railing, gazing out. Jae-rim gave a wry smile.
What was there to see in this quiet neighborhood—a middle school, a small stationery shop, a vegetable store? Jae-an stared blankly, unmoving. As he watched the world, Jae-rim, a step back, studied his silhouette.
Jae-an was small, frail, brittle-looking. Was it exhaustion from studying for the college entrance exam? Unlikely—Jae-an, aiming to be a teacher like his father, studied well enough without struggle.
A breeze blew. Jae-an’s hair swayed precariously, and an odd fear gripped Jae-rim, as if the wind might sweep him away.
Unable to resist, he opened the balcony door and stepped out. The sliding door’s friction and his slippers on the tiles didn’t stir Jae-an, who kept staring outward, senses dulled like an old man’s.
“Hyung.”
“Huh?”
Only at his name did Jae-an turn. His nose was slightly red from the chilly autumn breeze. Jae-rim lingered on his small, pale face.
“What?”
When Jae-rim stayed silent, Jae-an asked again.
“Can you help with math?”
“I’ll check it when you’re done. If it’s hard, move on.”
“I think I could solve it with a little help.”
A faint smile bloomed on Jae-an’s weary face.
Relief surged, Jae-rim’s fingers tingling.
He brought the math workbook to the living room, and they sat side by side at the table. Jae-an’s soft voice and the scratch of his pencil on equations were soothing.
“…So, don’t just plug in the formula blindly…”
But Jae-rim’s focus drifted to Jae-an’s neat fingers and the lukewarm warmth of their touching thighs, the explanation barely registering. Finishing, Jae-an leaned back on the sofa.
“This page has similar problems. Finish them.”
“Okay.”
“Call me when you’re done. I’m lying down.”
Jae-rim glanced at Jae-an, who lay with a cushion, then returned to the workbook. Though he hadn’t fully listened, Jae-an’s neat handwriting guided him to a slow solution.
“Done.”
Turning to call, he saw Jae-an’s eyes closed, soft breaths escaping parted lips.
It was the first time since childhood, sharing a bed, that Jae-rim saw him so defenseless. Dropping the pencil, he turned to the sofa.
Fine, abundant hair, closed eyelids with long lashes, a small but sharp nose, lips tracing a soft curve—all unchanged from the boy who slept beside him years ago. Next year, he’d be an adult, but Jae-an’s face remained childlike.
Jae-rim watched, unaware of time, as afternoon shadows fell across Jae-an’s face.
Just before sunset, golden light slipped through the half-drawn curtain, illuminating Jae-an’s jaw and neck. Jae-rim’s gaze shifted to his lips.
Many his age had stubble, but Jae-an’s jaw was smooth. When cleaning in loose shirts or stretching, his armpits and sides showed no hair.
His skin was pale, his hair a natural light brown, darker now than in childhood but still vibrant, like dyed. His fair complexion made the veins beneath and his lips’ color stand out.
He didn’t seem to shave. Did hair not grow?
Curiosity narrowed Jae-rim’s pupils, fixing on Jae-an’s jaw. Hesitant fingers brushed it lightly. It was impossibly smooth.
Entranced, he stroked the soft skin, glancing to check Jae-an’s reaction.
Jae-an only breathed softly. Jae-rim’s body leaned closer, his warm, cozy scent tickling his nose.
His gaze climbed from jaw to lips.
Between parted lips, small front teeth and a shadowed red tongue held his stare. His thumb rubbed the plump lips, blood pooling, deepening their color.
Checking Jae-an’s deep sleep, Jae-rim tilted his head. His lips met the flushed ones.
“….”
A shuddering thrill made Jae-rim clench his fist. Knowing he should pull away, he gently kissed each lip before slowly withdrawing.
Thankfully, Jae-an slept on, angelic, breathing evenly. In the sunset-lit living room, Jae-rim’s heart pounded loudly.
Staring at Jae-an, he felt something off. The jaw and lips were hotter than expected.
Touching his forehead, panic spread. It was burning.
Realizing Jae-an’s unresponsiveness was due to a fever, Jae-rim jumped up.
A wet towel was placed on Jae-an’s small forehead. Jae-rim solved math problems, periodically replacing the warmed towel. Turning to check, he lifted the lukewarm towel, and Jae-an’s long lashes twitched.
“What…?”
He’d slept soundly despite the uncomfortable sofa, his pretty lips letting out a low, hoarse voice. Adjusting the towel, Jae-rim replied,
“Cooling your fever.”
“…Fever?”
“You’ve got a cold. High fever.”
“What time is it?”
“Past six-thirty.”
Jae-an stared blankly at the ceiling, then closed his eyes. Jae-rim cooked porridge and set it on the sofa table.
Waking Jae-an, who’d fallen back asleep, he watched him sluggishly hold a spoon. As Jae-rim stayed close, Jae-an, voice feverish, said,
“You’ll catch it.”
“From what?”
Jae-an let it go with a murmur. For two days, he was gravely ill, the persistent fever worrying.
Jae-rim checked his temperature, tucking a thermometer under his bare armpit, and refreshed the towel.
Jae-an kept saying he was fine, stubborn despite his fevered face. His defiance irritated Jae-rim.
Thankfully, Jae-an didn’t fully resist the care. Perhaps it had been too long since someone tended to him so earnestly.
Sadly, Jae-an recovered quickly. When Jae-rim, denying he’d catch it, felt a heavy heat and faint dizziness in the shower two days later, he touched his forehead.
“Caught it.”
But he smiled faintly, turning the shower to cold. The fever felt like proof of kissing Jae-an’s lips, and he didn’t want it to fade.
Each shower, he stood under freezing water until his head rang. He pretended to swallow Jae-an’s apologetic medicine, spitting it out later, and crossed the school’s basketball court without a coat.
Yet the fever broke in a day.

*****

Staring at his phone, Jae-rim glanced at the bustling street. A slumped figure dragged along in the distance. Sitting on a bench, legs crossed, he tilted his neck and stood.
A guy holding Jae-an waved, shouting,
“Hey, hey, over here! You got here fast.”
“….”
“You’re taller than I thought! Heard you’re a high schooler. Built like a tank, nice.”
Jae-rim ignored the slurred greeting, taking Jae-an’s limp body. Unable to stand, Jae-an’s limbs dangled.
“Like you see, he’s totally wasted.”
“Hyung doesn’t drink like this.”
“Three girls hit on him tonight, so we kept pouring celebratory shots.”
Jae-an’s friend spoke defensively, likely sensing Jae-rim’s stiff expression and voice.
“Take care of him! Thanks, kid!”
Dumping Jae-an like baggage, the friend hurried off. Jae-rim slung Jae-an’s arm over his shoulder. His cold gaze lingered on the arm and waist the friend had held.
Jae-an had been drinking with college friends.
Jae-rim waited as usual, but past 2 a.m., Jae-an hadn’t returned. He’d joined drinking sessions since starting college, but never went radio silent. Even drunk, he always answered calls.
Jae-rim called over a hundred times. A friend answered, saying Jae-an was passed out. Thanks to a tracking app secretly installed on Jae-an’s phone, Jae-rim was already en route before the friend gave the address.
In a taxi, then home, Jae-rim tossed Jae-an onto the bed, removing his socks and shirt.
His skin was hot, like when he’d been sick.
“Who got you this drunk?”
Jae-an, eyes shut, didn’t answer.
“I want to kill them all. The bastards who poured, the girls who hit on you, the fucker who touched you.”
He’d never killed, but his fingers and toes tingled, vision reddening. His heart raced unpleasantly, ears ringing, neck tense.
Right now, he could tear anything apart, consumed by the urge to destroy.
“Ugh…”
Drunk, Jae-an scratched his throat, tossing, then breathed heavily. Jae-rim, snapping out of his thoughts, sat on the bed, his vivid eyes fixed on him.
Carrying Jae-an, the heat pooling below, his breath on Jae-rim’s neck, the warm skin—all swirled chaotically in his mind. Slowly climbing onto the bed, Jae-rim braced the sheets, caging Jae-an.
Disheveled hair, crumpled shirt, twisted socks, rolled-up sleeves. And Jae-rim, aroused by him. Everything was a mess.
Without blinking, he plunged his tongue between Jae-an’s liquor-scented lips. Unlike years ago, when he’d kissed a feverish Jae-an cautiously, there was no restraint.
His tongue probed deep, like penetration, until it reached Jae-an’s tongue’s root. Jae-an’s chest stirred faintly. Jae-rim pressed their lips tight, no breath escaping, sucking the small tongue like fellatio.
Rage, excitement, joy, and pleasure churned, knotting his stomach. Uncontrollable emotions and sensations focused on his tongue.
Slipping it like a snake, Jae-rim licked and probed Jae-an’s liquor-tainted mouth. What if he woke? Would I take him in a fit of rage, or play it off as a dream? Filthy thoughts flooded.
But Jae-an didn’t stir, and Jae-rim, greedily devouring his hot, wet mouth, burned through his fierce arousal before slowly pulling back.
As always, Jae-an remained serene, while Jae-rim burned black.
Laying Jae-an down, a phone dropped to the floor caught his eye. Unlocking it, he checked contacts and messages. No new numbers or suspicious texts. He tossed it onto the nightstand.
Tilting his head back, eyes closed, Jae-rim sighed ashenly. His golden eyes gleamed yellow in the dim moonlight.