NHL 22

“……”

“You don’t like it? You really don’t like the fireplace idea?”

Joeon, who had been lost in thought, raised his head and smiled faintly.

“No. It’s not that, but….”

Although he didn’t suggest it directly, Dylan was speaking on the premise that Joeon would be staying the night. There was nothing wrong with that, but the contact that had crossed the line just a moment ago was weighing on his mind, making his heart feel unsettled.

“Let’s go inside. The sun is starting to set. It’s going to get colder.”

The moment they opened the back door and stepped into the entryway, unlike the chilly outside air that had grown colder with the sunset, the warm air inside melted their bodies. The tightly contracted and shrunken leg muscles tingled as they relaxed.

“Want to sit here?”

Dylan, who had taken a seat first on the long bench in front of the entryway, brushed the ice clumped on his skate blades with a towel. It was a familiar gesture, like breathing. Joeon sat on the opposite end of the bench, putting some distance between them.

He started by untying the laces that were suffocatingly tight on the top of his foot, but Dylan, who had already changed from his skates into slippers in an instant, sat in front of Joeon’s feet and began to help him with nimble hands.

“I can do this much by myself.”

“It’s faster if I take them off, so just stay still.”

Joeon’s lips moved without a sound as he looked down at the blond hair disheveled by the winter wind. He needed to say thank you, but his voice wouldn’t come out properly.

The whisper, similar to the sound of air escaping, was buried under the clattering noise of the laces being untied and wasn’t properly conveyed. Judging by Dylan’s lack of reaction, it seemed he definitely hadn’t heard.

Joeon’s gaze dropped, slowly tracing from Dylan’s straight nose to his red lips. He still couldn’t believe it, but his own lips had certainly touched there. They had mixed their breaths and exchanged saliva. Furthermore, they had even rubbed their reflexively heated lower bodies together. That was definitely a foreplay process for intercourse.

But why?

Joeon had never felt lust for a man before. In fact, it was the same with women. This was because Joeon’s life as a child had been too arduous to hold the luxurious emotion of liking someone in his heart.

Among the connections that had passed him by until now, there must have been people with whom he had shared a sense of mutual liking. To the extent of awkwardly exchanging only very faint feelings.

However, he had never had a definite lover with whom he had given and received enough love to fill the defects in his life. He had never given it one-sidedly, nor received it. Joeon had always kept a moderate distance from people and run away.

Even from Maya and her family, who had taken care of him affectionately in place of his biological parents who, not wanting to take responsibility for him after their divorce, had sent him to study abroad.

This was because he had suspected that their affection was based on a financial reward anyway. It was after he had already witnessed the ugly nature of adults revealing their respective desires.

The suspicion was only covered over by belief after he left Maya’s house. Only when Maya, despite no longer receiving payment from Joeon’s parents, treated him like an adopted son and continued to contact him.

However, that didn’t mean the mold-like distrust spread throughout Joeon’s heart had completely disappeared. Within human relationships as thin and light as tracing paper, Joeon always isolated himself on a deserted island. People flowed to him on the tide and then quickly flowed away.

No one stayed by his side.

In a way, it was a natural result. His classmates who had studied with him began to start families one by one, and the friends who were devoted to their families gradually grew distant from Joeon.

Of course, even among friends, there were occasionally those with a strong bond like family, but it was rare for a place to be made for Joeon. There was no gap to squeeze into anywhere.

Through repeated disconnection and loss, Joeon had learned to give up. And he wasn’t particularly dissatisfied with it.

Because he sincerely believed that most people live their lives by just getting by with what they are given.

That’s why Dylan’s unpredictable approach was difficult. He kept shrinking somewhere between discomfort and fear. If he were a transparent villain like Sergio, it would have been easier to define him as such and ignore him.

Perhaps because he had received an unwelcome call after a long time, he even thought of someone he didn’t need to. As he tried to erase the unpleasant memory from his mind, Dylan, who had stopped his busy movements and was holding Joeon’s ankle, came into view.

“Joeon.”

He was still showing only the crown of his head, stroking the pattern of the colorful socks with his thumb. When the tip of his finger gently pressed the ankle bone over the sock, Joeon’s toes twitched. Dylan stopped moving and asked in a low voice.

“Did I, by any chance, make you uncomfortable?”

His voice, devoid of the artificial cheerfulness he had shown when soothing the startled Joeon, had no energy, like someone who had exhausted all their strength. Joeon, who had been lost in other thoughts, registered his words a step late.

“You haven’t said anything for a while….”

Dylan wasn’t talking about rubbing his ankle just now, but about something that had happened much earlier. Finally coming to his senses, Joeon carefully chose his words. The breath he had quietly drawn in at the unexpected question remained in his chest, painfully pressing on his ribs.

After the sound of the front door rattling in the wind had passed a couple of times, Joeon managed to give an answer. Shaking his head, he placed a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and said.

“…No.”

Even though he might be a coward, he decided not to lie. Honestly, he hadn’t felt any revulsion to Dylan’s touch, to the point where he was confused as to whether an identity he hadn’t known about himself existed.

“It wasn’t like that.”

Dylan lifted the heavy skates that had freed Joeon’s feet with one hand and raised his stiff face. Joeon got up from the bench with him. Even in slippers, Dylan was a full head taller than Joeon. His blue eyes, in which a dark green pattern resembling a lion’s mane was beautifully revealed, looked down at Joeon from a low angle. His lips, tinged with a faint, seemingly arrogant smile, opened.

“I thought so.”

The tension in his chest deflated with a whoosh at the confident voice, as if he had never been dispirited. It was so typically Dylan-like that Joeon realized he had been tricked and couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.

“I was, I mean… I was surprised.”

“I understand. Then from now on, I’ll just have to be a little more careful. Right?”

Dylan patted Joeon’s shoulder as if placating a whining nephew and led him to the locker room. As they entered Dylan’s hall of fame, steeped in history, the awkwardness that had been lingering between the two melted away like snow in the heater’s breeze.

“That’s true, but….”

Joeon trailed off and asked, staring at the back of Dylan who was approaching the lockers.

“Careful how?”

Dylan, who had thrown off his uniform and was unfastening the chest protector connected to the shoulder pads, straightened his shoulders as if showing off the volume of his bulging chest and abs, and turned around.

“Was three seconds too fast?”

“……”

Joeon’s eyes wandered here and there, at a loss for where to look. His gaze kept straying to the wrong places, making it impossible to focus on the conversation. As the silence lengthened, Dylan asked again.

“Is five seconds enough?”

It seemed that Dylan’s words “I’ll be careful” did not imply the meaning “I’ll back down.” Go fast, or go slow. Either way, the only conclusion was to move forward. Joeon, with no options, would just keep getting pushed back. And if he was cornered like that, someday….

He tried to think of a way to somehow refuse indirectly and run away, but while Joeon had no quick-wittedness at all, his opponent was an attacker with the aggression and tenacity to control a 100-mile-per-hour puck with a slapshot and score a goal.

In the end, the only words that came out of Joeon’s mouth were the highest number he could offer.

“T-ten seconds.”

Dylan, who licked his dry lips and then bit them firmly to hold back a laugh, repeated Joeon’s words as if engraving them in his mind.

“Ten seconds. Got it.”

Dylan readily agreed and took off his pants. Joeon, sitting on the bench, turned away, pretending not to see him, and diligently undid his shin guards. He had worked out so hard that cold sweat was running down his spine.

The streets, swept clean by the holidays, were desolate and quiet, as if daily life was reluctant to return. The sky, gloomy as usual, lowered the light level, creating a dreary atmosphere like a late afternoon even though it was morning.

The ends of Joeon’s muffler, who had pulled his coat lapels tight to keep the biting wind out, fluttered in the breeze. As his dark, neat sneakers passed over it, white steam billowed up from a vent connected to the subway, obstructing his view. Pushing it away with the side of his hand, Joeon reached the subway station and, right after passing through the turnstile, entered a cafe that caught his eye.

Inside the empty cafe, the part-time workers, with nothing to do, were chatting. The sound of their conversation stopped with Joeon’s arrival. However, the cashier’s voice that greeted Joeon was still full of laughter.

“What can I get for you?”

“One Americano.”

“Please wait a moment.”

On his way out with the coffee he had ordered, Joeon didn’t forget to say, “Have a great end of the year.” It was a greeting he habitually said around this time of year, but it was also because seeing the young people who worked various jobs while juggling their studies because they needed to earn money before starting their careers reminded him of his own school days, making him feel a sense of kinship and, from an adult’s perspective, a sense of pity.

Now, Joeon could make a living with just one job, but even from hearing stories from acquaintances of acquaintances of acquaintances, there were plenty of young people around who didn’t shy away from working two or three jobs. This was because it was difficult to afford the high cost of living and rent.

It wasn’t just economic poverty; 고민s about a not-yet-clearly-defined self and anxiety about an uncertain future also often became reasons that pushed them headlong into the labor market. This was from the thought that they needed to at least earn some money to prepare for the unexpected.

The things you want to do and the things you can do, the things you like and the things you are good at, are distinctly different. What could unify them was neither wealth nor power. It was only possible when talent, environment, and motivation became a trinity. Only a very small number of people, chosen by God or fate, fell into this category.

Among Joeon’s acquaintances, Dylan could be said to be almost the only one born with a ‘chosen destiny’ that was like a dream to everyone. Not to mention the enormous rewards that came with it.

Just a few days ago, at the McClain mansion, after hearing the price of the Zamboni that Dylan had casually asked about while grilling steak, Joeon had been so completely preoccupied with the enormous price that he didn’t know if he was swallowing the meat Dylan had cooked for him with his mouth or his nose.

If Dylan hadn’t stolen his lips again as he approached with wine, asking if the meal wasn’t to his taste, and stared at him curled up in front of the fireplace, Joeon probably would have spent all night thinking about the Zamboni, which cost nearly several months of his salary.

Fortunately, in the final moments before falling asleep in the unfamiliar guest room, he had thought a little about the owner of the house.

He replayed the awkward atmosphere when they stood in front of the door and said their goodnights, the disappointed look in Dylan’s eyes when Joeon subtly moved his body back, thinking his virtue might be threatened if their lips met again, and the moment when Dylan, saying it was just a goodnight kiss and not to misunderstand, soothed his disappointment with a hug. Even the lingering touch as he held Joeon, reluctant to let go, was vivid.

As soon as he boarded the subway entering the platform, his fingers, which had been fidgeting under his coat sleeve, touched his parched lips. On that thought, Joeon applied lip balm and stared blankly at the subway floor.

The train car was as empty as the street, and no one was looking at Joeon. Yet, for some reason, his face felt itchy and hot.

He pulled up his scarf to cover half his face, hiding his expression underneath. He was curious what kind of expression he was making, but he didn’t have the courage to face his own reflection in the window.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had been sexually aware of someone. It might even be the first time. Especially with a man, it was certain.

If this was what they called physical affection, which he had read about somewhere, it made sense. They say that even between friends, they are bound to become conscious of each other from the moment their hands touch.

But if they had even rubbed lips, it was undoubtedly physical affection brought on by sexual arousal.

‘I guess I’ve been single for too long. To the point where I feel strange about contact with another man.’

He wouldn’t deny having a subtle liking for Dylan, but Joeon wasn’t an unrealistic person to the point of having the absurd fantasy of wanting to be his lover. In any case, it was clear that the other party was also doing this out of curiosity.

He had seen it often in his school days too. Boys would often bully quiet and introverted peers like Joeon to boast about their masculinity or to assert their dominance.

But it was impossible for there to be any sincere interest or affection in that. They would generally turn away without a second thought after satisfying the desire they sought to fulfill. Whether the method was violence or insults.

The interest Dylan was showing Joeon now was also just like a passing wind, and once he got what he wanted from Joeon, he might disappear as if nothing had happened.

What Joeon was contemplating was whether to willingly go along with his curious experiment, or to resist fiercely, only to provoke his unnecessary competitiveness and part on unpleasant terms. Either way, it wouldn’t be a long-lasting relationship.

The reason he didn’t feel much resistance to talking about a same-sex relationship was because the relationship between Dylan and Joeon was like a single, very thin thread. If they were connected in a complex web like a spider’s web through mutual acquaintances, he would have felt suffocated just thinking about the future after breaking up, but right now, if they lost contact, it would simply end. There was no simpler or lighter relationship than this.