SPW 79

Florian, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, tilted his head slightly. Sarang, who had hunched over his round, cute head and not-so-cute frame, was earnestly laying something out.

Florian, who counted to one, two, three, four, five, focused on Sarang’s back rather than the objects laid out on the floor. It seemed he had just gotten out of the shower, as a refreshing shampoo scent wafted from his fine, rustling hair. His neck, tanned by the summer sun, was long, but it was thicker than it actually looked.

As befitting a player whose strength was speed, only the necessary muscles remained on his upper body, hidden by a white short-sleeved t-shirt. His thighs and calves, which were even more prominent because he was squatting, were needless to say. His legs, smoothly waxed below his shorts, were also nicely tanned.

A look of displeasure flickered in Florian’s eyes as he recalled Allen, who had been kneading another’s beloved body without permission. Was being a soccer player a job that involved so much touching? Thinking about it, since it was a physical profession, it was a matter of course. It was also natural that Sarang, who had lived almost his entire life as a soccer player, was insensitive to the touch of others.

Even though he reacts so sensitively to my touch.

“…Hmm.”

Before his thoughts could get any longer, Florian started walking. He was so incredibly agile on the pitch, yet he could be so dense in his daily life. In other words, it also meant he had excellent concentration. Because even when he was that focused, at the decisive moment, he would surely notice the presence of an opponent. Just like now.

“Rian?”

This time too, Sarang tilted his head back, and a smile automatically spread across his face as his eyes met Florian’s. For a moment, he seemed to overlap with the Kim Sarang from the dream. The Kim Sarang from the dream had never shown such a smile.

‘Are we really getting a divorce?’

The Kim Sarang who had smiled brightly by the summer palace window was the first and last time. Even that smile didn’t look as happy as this. Of course, it couldn’t have. He had just been served with divorce papers by the person he loved. Did Kim Sarang start thinking about suicide from then on?

The half-destroyed, overturned car naturally came to mind. The bright red blood that had flowed out from the broken car window had drenched the Wellington company’s emblem. It was a cruel scene. Just like the unfortunate fate of Kim Sarang.

A hallucination arose, as if Sarang’s face, smiling brightly while looking up at him, was submerged in a pool of blood. Florian, inwardly startled, shook off the memory and reached out, tapping Sarang’s cheek. It was right where his dimple was.

“You look like you’re in a good mood?”

“I’m really happy that Rian came home early.”

“I don’t think that’s all there is to it.”

Florian, who had moved to stand next to Sarang and was looking down at the floor, or more precisely, at the things neatly arranged on the floor, raised the corners of his mouth.

“Isn’t this a bit much for a new lover?”

“I’m not that popular, Rian.”

“Sometimes, no, often, I think that Sarang is seriously underestimating himself.”

“Thank you, Rian.”

“I’m not just saying that.”

Florian, who was looking down at Sarang’s clear face, which was smiling as if it didn’t matter whether he was or not, finally sat down in the spot next to him. Suddenly, from outside the wide-open window, the sound of leaves rustling blew in with a warm breeze. It was distinctly summer.

As Florian sat on the floor, Sarang, who also quickly sat down, was so close that their knees were almost touching. Unaware of this, Sarang neatly arranged the remaining items.

“Are these from your fans?”

“Yes, Rian. Fifteen letters. This is a handmade placard, this is a drawing of my face that they drew themselves, and this is a doll they made themselves, too. It’s really amazing, isn’t it?”

Florian, who smiled, pleased to see Sarang boasting to him with a flushed face and an excited voice, listened to his precise pronunciation. Sarang, whose actions, personality, and appearance were all Sarang-like, even had a Sarang-like voice.

It would be harder to hate a kid like this.

Florian, not even realizing his rather biased thought, examined the fans’ gifts that were neatly arranged. The fifteen letters were covered in hearts, the sketch of his face smiling brightly while celebrating a goal was full of sincerity, and the Border Collie doll, the size of a forearm, was quite well-made. The message, with letters individually cut and pasted onto a palm-sized frame, seemed to be a message of support.

“Sarang, what does it say?”

“Uh.”

Sarang did not readily answer Florian’s question. It’s the reaction he has when he’s embarrassed. Florian turned to his side. As expected, Sarang’s earlobes were slightly red.

“Seeing that you can’t say it, it must be a real lover.”

“Th-that’s not it. Rian.”

“Go on, show off. Quickly.”

At Florian’s gentle urging, Sarang, who had briefly covered his burning face with his large palm and then removed it, reluctantly opened his mouth.

“A…merica’s Sweetheart Lovely King, fighting!”

The earnest Sarang was a bit shy, but he was the type to fly if you set the stage for him.

“Our pride, our treasure! Forever, King Sarang!”

They were cliché words of support, and it would have been embarrassing to read them out loud, but Sarang was actually getting into it. It seemed to be because it was a gift from a fan. Because Sarang was a kid who could read the hearts in others’ small words and actions, gifts, and even a single expression.

“The universe’s best forward! Let’s only have happy soccer and build soccer!”

He would have smiled like the sunshine with a face that looked like he had the whole world after receiving his fans’ gifts.

“From the gatekeeper of the Kim Sarang praise prison, from the I should have given birth to Kim Sarang society.”

“…”

Sarang, who had gotten into it as he went on and shamelessly recited his own praises, turned red-faced with a belated wave of embarrassment and stealthily turned to look at Florian. He had expected a smile on his handsome face, but Florian’s face was expressionless. He was sitting silently like an emotionless doll, looking down at the cheering message. At a glance, it looked like he was glaring. Sarang, who could not hide his confusion, was about to speak with a worried face.

“So they weren’t lovers, but prison guards or prospective parents.”

“Rian?”

“Yes, Sarang.”

Only then did Florian, turning to Sarang with a smile on his face, look like a piece of ice that had been frozen solid and was slowly melting. Sarang’s black eyes, which did not take his eyes off Florian for a moment and observed him carefully, were dripping with worry.

“Did something bad happen?”

Sarang, who had turned to face Florian completely, looked into his cool, blue eyes that held a hint of a smile. A creation that, if God existed, he would have crafted with the most care. Looking at Florian’s elegant blond hair, transparent skin, and mysterious blue eyes, which were too beautiful to be described with words, often made him feel a sense of unreality.

This was especially true at times like this, when Florian felt as if he would disappear at any moment, like a stranger. Sarang, who had unknowingly reached out to grab Florian, hesitated. It was because Florian, who had read his presence, had slightly pulled his upper body back.

“…”

Tens of thousands of emotions passed over Sarang’s pale face in an instant. Florian, who thought, oops, extended the hand he had pulled back and gently grasped the tips of Sarang’s fingers. Even in midsummer, Sarang’s fingertips were cold.

“Sarang.”

“…I was just going to grab your collar.”

Sarang, who couldn’t continue his words, closed and opened his eyes as if to collect his emotions. Then, he obediently met Florian’s blue eyes.

“You can hold my hand if you want, or my arm, or my face, Sarang.”

“…”

“This is…”

How should he explain the reason he had been startled? If he said he was surprised because the message of support was exactly the same as in his dream, down to a single word, Sarang would nod his head with a worried face. As if to say that even though he knew it was impossible, he would believe everything because it was Florian’s word. It was also something that, if his long-time doctor had heard it, would have prompted him to schedule a new appointment.

“It’s not because of Sarang.”

Sarang nodded obediently but had a face that didn’t believe him. Florian, who was staring blankly at the face that revealed his inner thoughts so transparently, intertwined his fingers with Sarang’s cold ones, which he had only been touching at the tips. He squeezed their intertwined hands tightly. So that his own body heat, which he had in excess, could seep into Sarang.

“This is a kind of trauma.”

His bead-like, clear pupils widened.

“What…?”

Sarang, who asked blankly, was about to touch Florian with his non-intertwined hand, but hesitated and backed away, examining his spouse only with his eyes. It was a sight where one could feel Sarang’s heart sinking.

This is a big problem, Sarang. Why did you come to love me this much.

Florian, who reached out his other hand and cupped Sarang’s cheek, calmly followed the anxiously trembling black eyes and soothed them.

“I wasn’t hurt just now, Sarang.”

“Then…?”