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Simon doesn’t remember the first time he ate a tangerine but he knows there’s a photo of him in a high chair, where he couldn’t have been more than two years old, where he’s stuffing his mouth with the fruit.
It might have been the first time, but he only knows of it because of the photo.
Still, over the years, he developed quite a fondness towards the fruit.
He remembers his dad putting it into his lunchbox when he was little, and when his father was still around. Or how whenever little Simon was whining about being hungry, Micke would sit him on the kitchen countertop and peel the fruit so they could share it, while trying to interest him with the stories of how he used to play in a band in high school. Simon always listened intently, let his dad indirectly lead him into the world of music that he’s come to love so much, munching on the fruit as Micke was recalling his tales.
Then he remembers the day the talks of music around peeling tangerines stopped. The days when if he said he was hungry, his dad would simply throw the fruit at him, leaving him to deal with the peeling on his own and returning to moping over his bottle at the table. And it’s not that Simon wasn’t capable of scaling the fruit, it was more about missing the whole ritual they created with it.
Then he remembers how he was visiting his dad, after everything, after the divorce, after he promised Sara he wouldn’t get in touch with him. Still, he did, and when he came to Micke’s new place, there was a bowl of tangerines in the middle of the table. Simon didn’t dare to pick one up, didn’t dare to try to return to their ritual. Maybe he didn’t actually want it to be tained with all that went wrong between them. He wants to keep at least one happy memory of his dad.
Because after Micke was gone, there was his mama who would put the tangerines in his lunchbox. Then it was he himself doing so because mama , I’m a big boy, I can pack my own lunch. Linda backed off then, with a mockingly serious expression of defeat that made Simon chuckle. He remembers her fingers smelling like tangerines when she delicately took his face between his palms and caressed his cheeks. Yes, you are, she said with some weird melancholy in her tone to which Simon decided to pay no mind back then.
And somehow, tangerines have many times found themselves a part of Simon’s lunch. He went through a weird phase when he felt like something was missing if he hadn’t eaten at least one during the day. There’s just also something about the sole act of peeling it, getting under the skin to taste. It’s satisfying and calming, and as he’s done it so many times now, he still sometimes can’t help but wonder, if it felt calming to his dad too. If then, when his hands started to shake from too much alcohol, trying to peel the fruit became too frustrating.
It’s weird, how something so little like a tangerine can pose so many questions for him.
Still, during the breaks, study sessions, in the library, he’ll often snack on the fruit. If it’s some weird obsession of his, it really is not the worst and most unhealthy one of all the habits he could choose from.
“Do you want some?” Simon asks Wille, who’s now sat opposite him on the bed. They’re studying in Wille’s room today and Simon has really insisted on studying for the upcoming history test. But only the promise of the sooner we’re done, the sooner we can move to more pleasant activities, seemed to have won Wille over. Well, Simon has found his ways to deal with his boyfriend’s constant desire. Although it does flatter him that whenever they find themselves behind closed doors, Wille just wants to kiss him senseless. And well, vice versa, but Simon at least tries to be the responsible one in their relationship. Someone has to be.
Now Simon extends a piece of tangerine he has carefully separated towards Wille with an arched eyebrow in question. He kind of surprises himself and almost flinches a little as he realises, he hasn’t really shared a tangerine with anyone since his dad. He quickly recovers though and his boyfriend doesn’t seem to notice that it startled him.
“Uhuh,” Wille raises his gaze from his reading and nods. But instead of taking the fruit from Simon’s hand, like a normal person would, he leans in and snatches it from Simon’s fingers straight with his mouth.
Simon shakes his head but lets him, mirroring his boyfriend’s grin as he goes back to his book. Then he continues with his own stuff as well, at times pausing to pick another piece of tangerine and pop it into his mouth.
“Ugh, you have to stop doing that,” Wille groans after some time, throwing his head back.
“Doing what?” Simon frowns.
“This,” Wille points at the fruit that Simon has set carefully on a piece of tissue with the peels, as if it has personally offended him.
“I can’t… eat?” Simon questions. “You know, Wille, this is a fundamental human need-”
“No,” Wille groans again. Closing his book (and Simon feels he won’t open it again tonight), he shifts to get a bit closer to Simon. “This, just you… every time you pick up a piece eat… It draws my attention to your lips and it’s… distracting.” He sighs.
“My lips are distracting?” Simon can’t help but question, trying to hide his chuckle while chewing on the fruit.
“Obviously,” Wille rolls his eyes as if it was, indeed, obvious. “Especially since they could be occupied with something else…” he trails off, his hand suddenly finding its way to Simon’s leg to run up and down his calf and yeah, now this is distracting.
Simon’s self-control is crumbling quite quickly.
“So lame, mi amor,” he just teases, causing Wille to roll his eyes once more, although no less fondly.
“Mhm,” he just agrees, moving even closer till he can brush their noses together and soon, press their lips in a smiley kiss. Simon’s hand wanders to grab the back of his neck, keeping him near, his fingers playing with the hair on his nape. “Can we please be done for today?” Wille mumbles against his lips and how can Simon say no?
So he gives in and nods. And not even a second later, he finds himself under Wille’s weight as he pins him to the bed and begins to kiss him more fiercely.
“Mhm, wait,” Simon pulls back a little before they completely get lost in each other. He moves to salvage what’s left of his tangerine and places it safely on the bedside table. Wille looks at him with an arched eyebrow, as if trying to ask is this really what you choose to care about now? “I may be hungry later,” Simon just replies with a shrug.
“Yeah, you might be,” Wille retorts with a smirk and it kind of sounds like a promise.
Simon’s fingers brush through the grass gently. The day is warm and he lets the rays of sunshine wash over his face in a delicate touch. He’s sitting at the football field alone although since seven minutes ago, he shouldn’t be alone anymore, but his boyfriend is late.
He’s about to reach for his phone and text but just then, he can see Wille rushing through the football field to get to him.
“Hi,” Wille drops on the grass, still panting a little from his fast walk. He doesn’t waste his time to greet Simon properly with a kiss though.
“You’re late,” Simon points out although his lips are still shaped in a smile.
“I know, I’m sorry,” his boyfriend apologises. “I have a gift though,” he adds, the corners of his mouth curving up.
Simon raises his brow curiously at the statement but soon, Wille reveals what he means. He pulls two tangerines from the pockets of his jacket and places them in front of Simon with a proud smile.
“Is that why you were late?” Simon questions but he’s still smiling himself. It’s the little things that have always mattered to him. Ones that Wille notices about him and records in his brain. Like, his favourite fruit, his favourite colour. Simple things that no one has really noticed about him before. And Wille not only notices, he also remembers.
“No,” Wille snickers. “Had a call with my mom,” he admits, letting out a heavy sigh and Simon winces.
“How did it go? Does she want to steal you away from me for some more royal business this weekend?” Simon asks as he reaches for the fruit and starts to peel it with a practised ease.
“No, I promise I’m all yours,” Wille’s palm goes to rest on his thigh. “I wouldn’t let her ruin our first weekend together in like forever.”
Simon smiles at that but he can feel a bit of a sad edge slipping into it. Yeah, Wille’s been a bit busy recently, with trying to still get used to his crown prince role and reconcile his duties with his life. So Simon simply misses his boyfriend when he has to be away on some important, royal business. Still, the fact that Wille didn’t cave into whatever his mom wanted, that he put him and their relationship first… it gives Simon a lot of hope and it feels like progress.
“Plus, your mom said she’s making pabellón for dinner tomorrow, there’s no way I’m missing that,” Wille adds and Simon chuckles as he looks down at the half-peeled tangerine in his hand. He can feel Wille watching him, but neither of them says anything for a while, Simon focused on his task and Wille, on him.
“I’ve never really asked why you like those so much,” his boyfriend prompts then, gesturing to the tangerine in Simon’s hand.
“I just do,” Simon shrugs.
“Is there some story behind it?” Wille inquires gently. “It’s just, you always seem to have those stacked at home.”
And Simon thinks of telling him. About the talks at the kitchen counter, about his mom’s soft eyes and her fingers imprinted with the fragrance of tangerines, about the calming effect of decorticating the fruit, about how this smell and taste sort of feel like home but also like something he’s lost.
But it feels too heavy. Like something he can’t quite unpack now. Not with everything that’s going on, not with Wille only now beginning to stand still under the weight of the crown, not with the first since a long time weekend they’re about to spend together. It would set the tone, Wille would inquire about things and no matter how long it has been, Simon is still not ready for questions.
So he shrugs, not daring to raise his gaze at his boyfriend. Finding a new role for the peeling of the fruit as it now serves as a distraction.
“Don’t you have some sort of food that’s always in your kitchen at home?” He just asks, trying to steer away from Wille’s question.
“I don’t know, to be honest, I don’t really spend a lot of time in the palace’s kitchens,” Wille admits with a wince.
Simon laughs a little at the answer, at the reminder of how different life is for them. And no matter what, deep down it stings a little.
“That makes sense,” he just retorts and sends his boyfriend a smile.
Wille smiles back and this is what Simon focuses on. On his boyfriend finally letting loose and being happy, on the prospect of their weekend together.
Maybe one day he’ll find a way to be brave and tell him everything, but it is not today. Not yet.